If you're like me, you're reading this because of your love for Carol. And Daryl. And Caryl.

The inspiration for this short story was borne out of ALL the feels brought on by the most recent episode of The Walking Dead, ' Consumed': Love- both the unconditional and unrequited varieties. Worry. Frustration. Angst. Not to mention a healthy dose of masochism, apparently. There's a lot of OOC, especially on Daryl's part, but that's permissible because it's all a dream anyway, right? Originally, I thought it would just be a convenient way to humor my romantic side and put together a happy, mushy Caryl scene but the more I read it, the more I wonder if there aren't other meanings to be found... All opinions welcome! Hope you enjoy : )

She dreamed wonderful things, impossible things.

Her traumatized, abused brain retreated into the farthest reaches of her existence, away from the frailty and mistreatment of her body, to a place where happy thoughts were normal- taken for granted even- and joy still existed. She couldn't help but revel in the happy place, even as a nagging thought persisted that it wasn't right.

She saw Sophia, her own darling Sophia- tall for her age, and growing into a woman so quickly, but still carrying that ragged doll around, childlike exuberance shining through. Her heart swelled with love and pride.

She couldn't help but smile at the scene unfolding before her eyes as she watched Sophia march up to the car in the driveway, the one propped up by a terrifyingly tiny and flimsy looking jack, with a dirty, tattered pair of olive green army pants and equally beat up looking boots poking out from underneath it. Sophia bent down to say something under the car and the swing of her hair covered her face, making it impossible for Carol to make out what was being said.

But it wasn't something Carol ever needed to worry about. Daryl always had time for Sophia, always had patience for her- so much patience. He always listened intently to her million questions. And his love and pride for his girl showed just as clearly. He's such a wonderful father, she couldn't stop herself from thinking. Even as she had the thought, a frown marred her face but she couldn't seem to put her finger on what was bothering her. Whatever it was made the hair stand up on the back of her neck.

Shrugging it off and rubbing that spot that prickled idly, she called out to Sophia.

"Sophia- let your father finish what he's doing. Come inside and wash up- dinner's almost ready."

At the sound of her voice, Daryl pulled himself out from under the car and hoisted himself up, wiping his hands on a greasy red rag that she knew always hung from his back pocket.

"Dinner, huh? Come on, little lady," he said as he ruffled Sophia's hair and took her hand. "She'll be waiting for us later," he said, nodding at the car. Carol cringed even as her heart sang at the affectionate gesture. She mentally amended her evening activities to ensuring Sophia took a shower before bed too. But she couldn't fault the girl. She was Daddy's little princess and the sun rose and set in his eyes. Luckily, he felt the same way about her.

He was such a wonderful father.

Daryl looked up, his eyes meeting hers, and tossed his hair out of his face, giving her an enigmatic little smile. That look never failed to turn her knees to jelly, or make the room feel stuffy- even after almost twelve years together. He let go of Sophia's hand as they approached her and snaked an arm around Carol's waist, dropping a kiss on her head as he murmured in her ear, "If I'm a good boy and eat all my dinner, what's for dessert?"

She wriggled in his grasp and swatted at him ineffectually, glancing to see if Sophia had heard him, even as she experienced a private thrill at the innuendo. It didn't matter if he came home looking and smelling like an oil slick, and God knew sometimes he did, she was secretly elated that he still seemed so turned on by her. He grinned widely, flashing white, even teeth, and ducked down for another kiss in between her half-hearted swipes, drawing a giggle from her as he moved into the house with Sophia in tow.

She stood there feeling awed and humbled by life, that she had found such a wonderful man, a wonderful life partner to travel through the trials and tribulations of this world with. She was just turning to head inside when she heard an awful yelling, followed by a sickeningly muffled impact sound. She sighed deeply, immobilized for a minute as she hoped and prayed her ears were making the awful noises up. Lori and Shane, at it again. She heard the clack of a screen door shutting and saw Lori's young son Carl walking dejectedly out into the front yard. He looked up and saw her, such a lost expression on his face that her heart broke. She tried for a comforting smile and waved; he didn't wave back.

Just at that moment, Daryl came back out the front door, wiping his hands on a clean kitchen towel. She could see he'd taken off the filthy boots and changed his shirt.

"What's wrong? Thought we were eatin," he said as he threw the towel over his shoulder and started massaging her visibly tense shoulders. Another loud bang came from the house a few doors down and just then the Sheriff's car turned onto their street. She knew Tyreese or Tara from next door had called them. Again. She reached up and put her hand over his, and looked up at him plaintively as she leaned back into him for support. His hands stilled on her shoulders. He hugged her a little tighter, rested his chin on and said to the top of her head, "They ain't all like us, baby. We're the lucky ones."

She squeezed his hand and nuzzled back into the hard strength of his body. He always seemed to know what she was thinking before she'd even thought it.

"Come on," he said as he rubbed her arms and steered her into the house. "Police got this- they'll sort it out."

She stepped into the house and was immediately reassured by the familiarity, the scents, the rightness. She could hear Sophia humming as water ran somewhere in the house and she could smell the pot roast she had in the oven; it made her mouth water. Without even being asked, Daryl opened the cupboards and started pulling out plates, glasses. Again, the hair on the back of her neck prickled as an uneasy feeling coursed through her. Maybe she was coming down with something.

Dinner came and went, not without a little food fight- started by Daryl of course, flinging peas at Sophia when she wasn't looking. Exasperated, Carol begged him to stop teaching her bad table manners- he was such a child sometimes. He gave her another one of those mind-melting smiles, the kind you could never refuse to forgive. Sophia laughed and took the opportunity to fling a pea at his head while he was distracted. The ensuing mock argument ended with him throwing her over his shoulder and hauling her out of the kitchen as Carol surveyed the damage, sighed and began cleaning up. She heard water running again- he must have started the shower for Sophia.

She was daydreaming in front of the sink about how perfect her life was, hands half in the rapidly cooling dish water, when he snuck up behind her and nuzzled her on the neck.

"Whatcha thinking bout, baby?" he growled in that low voice, the one he saved for when Sophia wasn't around, and put his hands on her waist, playing with the hem of her shirt.

She flushed a little, felt a surge of heat. His train of thought was unmistakable, especially now that she could see he'd taken his shirt off. His hands wandered over her torso, sending shivers down her spine; she let go of the plate she'd been absentmindedly staring at and turned into the circle of his arms. He wasted no time closing what little space was remaining between them, trapping her, and backing her up flush against the counter while he captured her lips in a searing kiss. Her wet, soapy hands flew up to his shoulders naturally and she couldn't help but be mesmerized by the droplets of water that were losing their fight with gravity and running down his chest in halting rivulets.

He was so beautiful it almost made her cry to look at him.

Upstairs, she heard the abrupt halt of running water. "Daryl, we can't... Sophia..." she trailed off as he brought his hand up to cradle the back of her head and deepened the kiss, presser closer, as close as he could possibly get.

There was the light sound of footsteps and a door shutting and he drew away reluctantly, giving her bottom lip a playful little tug although he made no attempt to release her from the prison of his arms.

"She won't be awake forever, babe," he drawled in her ear, reaching behind her simultaneously for a glass from the cabinet behind her. Glass in hand, he let his free hand roam a bit under her shirt, along her midriff, and gave her another quick peck. He turned the water on, filled the glass and headed back out the way he had come, motioning for her to follow. She didn't move right away. Good Lord, the man all but seduces her into a puddle and then just expects her to be able to walk?

She leaned up against the counter, letting it support her weight, and glanced out the window. She could see that little boy, Carl, in his back yard. That sobered her up quickly. She wondered if his parents were still fighting. She shivered a bit, reflecting on how amazing her own life was, but feeling sorry for him. How did two people who were so obviously wrong for each other end up together? And why did they stay? Wasn't it easier for everyone to just accept when enough was enough and move on?

Daryl came back through the kitchen door and refilled his glass. "Hey- ya comin' or what?" he asked, taking a swig from the glass.

"Yeah, coming... just finishing up the dishes. Be right there." She made a kissy face as he walked by her, which he promptly took advantage of, then left the room again. She smiled as she watched his bronzed back disappear through the door, and turned to look out the window again- Carl was gone. She dried her hands on the towel Daryl had left on the counter earlier and walked out of the room, turning off the light. She tried to ignore the irrational little prickle of dread that was fighting to be recognized.

The night passed like any other- they watched some television, cuddling on the couch, while Sophia played with her WiiU before bed. Daryl was particularly playful that night, and really, who was she to say no? There was almost a simultaneous feeling of being unworthy of the notice of a man like him, and the heady feeling of control and desire that being desired invoked. When all was said and done, hers was a pretty perfect life.

That thought kept her awake longer than it should have. She couldn't seem to shake the feeling that something was horribly wrong even as she snuggled against the man she loved in a warm, soft bed. The comfort she took in being held snugly in his strong arms, and his rhythmic breathing, eventually lulled her into sleep, but she found herself in a horrible nightmare where the dead walked, and Sophia was dead, and Daryl... where was Daryl?

As she panicked in the dream, she could feel those arms tightening around her and her semi-conscious mind screamed, "Wake up!" There was a vaguely irritating beeping noise that had started at some point and all of a sudden she was feeling pain, so much pain. Disoriented, she opened her eyes, expecting to see concern in Daryl's smoky grey ones- but instead she saw three unfamiliar faces. The pain had escalated to an excruciating level and she became aware that her clothes were filthy and smelled like death. Reality came crashing in on swift wings as the last few years of her life flooded her memory.

She felt a lone tear escape and make its way down her cheek.