Title: Passing
Spoilers for Season 2 if you've not finished watching yet.
Summary: Daryl and Carol share a moment after Dale's death
Notes: Written especially for Karla. xxx

His death had been like a bomb dropped at the farm, leaving nothing but devastation.

It was dark, late into the night, but they'd carried his body back to their camp because they couldn't leave him in the middle of the field.

They'd placed a sheet over him, put him in the RV and they'd sat around he fire, numbly. Silence stretched out. Nothing to say. Not for hours, they just stayed huddled together.

As dawn broke, most of them were still awake, not able to sleep but Andrea had managed to drift off, as well as Lori and Carl. The rest remained unable to close their eyes, all knowing what thoughts would be running through their minds that night.

"We should dig a grave," Rick suggested as the sun started to rise.

No words were spoken about who was to do it, they just got up and grabbed shovels. They made him a grave next to the others they'd last since they'd been here. Hershel's family and Sophia.

T Dog, Rick, Shane and Glenn all worked on digging the grave for the old man. Daryl had disappeared into the RV himself and had been in there a while.

After a while, Carol followed him in, curious.

Shane stared after the pair. "There a reason Daryl ain't out here helping us?"

"There's been enough tension in this group. It stops now, Shane." Rick warned, carrying on. As far as he was concerned, if Daryl didn't want to dig Dale's grave, that was fine by him. He'd killed the man, that was enough.

Shane said nothing else.

Daryl looked round as he heard footsteps mounting the stairs to the RV. He noticed Carol and turned back round to what he'd been doing.

"Might wanna stay over there," he mumbled.

At first she wasn't sure what he was doing, but then she realised. The state Dale had been left in, his insides hanging out was no way to be buried. Daryl was getting him ready to be buried.

Carol felt a swell of pride at the man. The others were doing dirty work but here he was, doing something much worse, without being asked or complaining about it. Stood by the door, she heard Shane griping and was sure she heard Daryl name mentioned. She closed the door, Daryl didn't need to hear anything that man had to say.

She'd kept a few items here while Sophia had been missing, it becoming her temporary home and she dug around in her purse, pulling out a needle and thread. She hesitantly walked over towards him, not wanting to see the gruesome sight before her. To her surprise, it wasn't as bad as what she'd last seen. Still ghastly of course, but better than when she'd last seen.

"Best sew him up," Carol said, standing behind him, the narrow walkway not giving them much room. He reached up, his hands a mess of blood and she noticed the tiny tremor in them. He awkwardly tried to take the threaded needle before she put her arm gently on his shoulder. "Why don't I do it?"

"Ain't a job for a lady," Daryl replied without thinking. Noting her reaction, one of surprise that he'd call her a lady, he hid his features behind a mask, carefully sealing of any type of reaction.

"I've done worse things than this before. And for people who didn't deserve it too." He knew she was talking about Ed.

"There's sum gloves in the first aid kit," he said, pointing to the box just behind her. She took a pair out and put the latex gloves on, wondering why Daryl hadn't put any on himself.

He got up and moved to the back of the TV & letting her kneel next to the body. It was awkward, the hallway narrow enough that she had to reach over him at an angle. The stitches were just to bind it, to stop anything coming out again. They didn't need to perfect. She worked fast, needlework familiar to her.

Daryl was surprised when she stood up having completed her task. "He's ready now," Carol said.

Daryl nodded. He pulled the sheet back over Dale's exposed torso. She pulled her gloves off, discarding them with the other rubbish. She smiled slightly at him and he looked away. "Best wash up," he said, making his way towards her. He carefully stepped over Dale's body.

He got to the door, hadn't noticed that she'd closed it. "Could you...?" he asked, indicating to the door.

"Oh, of course," she said, stepping towards it and somehow, as she stepped forward she slipped forward. Daryl did his best to steady her, trying not to touch her with his hands so she grabbed hold on his arm. Although she felt her feet slip out from under her momentarily, she quickly regained her balance, Daryl never wavered slightly at the force of her weight on him. She quickly let go, embarrassed at her own clumsiness.
"Thanks," she said, looking away.

He shrugged, which she missed. He reached for the door, just as she did and he flinched away quickly as their hands brushed against one another. She felt another wave of heat wash over her, skin reddening slightly. And then something else. Something brave and not afraid of anything in this frightening new world. And something that certainly wasn't afraid of sharing her affection.
In the briefest second she grasped his face in her hands and kissed him, gently and tenderly on the lips.

She pulled away slightly, hands still lingering on his face and he held her gaze for a moment.

"I'm sorry," she said, opening the door and stepping out. She almost ran straight into Rick who was on his way in. She quickly hurried past him and headed towards the rest of the group at the burning out camp fire.

"She okay? She looked a bit..." he was distracted by the blood on Daryl's hands. It took him a moment to realise what Daryl had done when he noticed that there was something different about Dale's corpse.

Rick swallowed hard. He could never have asked one person to do two such grizzly jobs, yet Daryl had done both without being asked, without complaining. "We're ready," was all he could say, patting his arm gently. "Why don't you get cleaned up and then we can get Dale buried."

Daryl simply nodded and headed outside the RV too.

When the buried Dale, Rick made a speech.

Daryl didn't hear much of it.
He spent most of his time watching Carol, stood to the side of her, trying to work out the woman.
Trying to work out why she said she was sorry.
Was she sorry that she kissed him?
Or sorry that she stopped?