Author's Note: So, I had another idea :) And I PROMISED myself, (and my lovely friend, C *waves*) that I would not start another story in this fandom until I got the first one kicked waaaaay down the road. But that can is rolling along nicely, and this idea kept scratching my brain and if you don't deal with the itch, then you go crazy.

This is ZA Daryl and Carol, again starting pre-show. This is more traditional though to their relationship that we saw onscreen. So not so much 'overt AU,' but more my variation on missing scenes. Because they clearly 'knew' each other by the time the show started, and I figure for the battered housewife to not be afraid of the crazy redneck screaming at Officer Friendly for leaving his brother handcuffed in the city, that some things had already happened to make her trust him. This would be one of those things.

At some point here (post season 1 events) they will officially get together, but please know that this will be VERY slowly updated. Because I'd like to finish 'This Is Now' before I let my brain totally run off in another direction. More on that at the end.

Also FYI, new readers, I have stopped watching the show so that I can write. So if you leave a note (and I do love a note!) please, no spoilers for recent events :)

Now we open on my take, for Caryl's first official meeting.

"The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed."

- C.G. Jung

*/*/*

Without heroes, we are all plain people and don't know how far we can go.

- Bernard Malamud

East Meets West

It was the sound of a branch breakin' that caught Daryl's ear.

After nine hours out in the heat, tracking critters through the woods, he knew it coulda been nothin' more than a doe running through the leaves. But if these past few weeks had taught him anything, it was that things were hardly ever that simple anymore. And so he brought his bow up, and froze there in the middle of the fork in the trees. His ears were pricked, as he tipped his head slowly to the left.

The crack had come from the east, of that much he was sure.

And then he heard another noise . . . it sounded like a yelp. And then what was clearly a muffled scream.

He took off running.

The sound of the pine needles crunchin' beneath his feet, and his blood rushin' through his ears, were all he could hear until he broke through the brush. And that's when he saw it.

A walker.

A big mother. At least six foot something, and dressed in a dark business suit, now half in tatters . . . he was just about to drop on that new woman from the camp.

Carol.

Her name flew into Daryl's head, just as the bolt flew across the air. And it hit its mark.

Because that fucker went down, hard.

Hard enough that he actually . . . VERY unintentionally on Daryl's part . . . ended up landin' on top of the woman Daryl was tryin' to keep from being chomped on. And she let out another yelp when that rotten corpse knocked her flat out on her back. His eyes popped.

Ah shit!

And so with her whimpering now while she scrambled to get out from under that bloated body which had to have tipped well over a deuce and a half, Daryl closed the last twenty feet still separatin' them.

While he was runnin' up, he shoved his bow back to his shoulder . . . and then his boot was coming out.

And he kicked that son of a bitch square in the ribs.

The body rolled over and hit the ground with a faint thud and burp of some nasty ass gasses. That's when Daryl's eyes started frantically tracking over the woman's body, looking for bites in her flesh or tears in her clothes.

Nothin' was jumping out at him.

There was definitely a splatter of gore on her shirt, and she was clearly terrified, but otherwise she didn't seem like that run-in had left her any worse for wear.

He felt a flash of rage spark up then.

Because it was just DAMN lucky she hadn't her guts ripped out! A person like her, no weapons, no skills . . . and a little girl back in the camp(!) . . . she didn't have no fuckin' business AT ALL, bein' out in the woods here by herself!

So he lit in.

"What the HELL are you doin' out here, woman?!" He hissed, "you TRYIN' to get bit?!"

Her eyes snapped up to his, and for a second she just stared at him in shock. He could see that she was still terrified, and half in a daze about what'd happened.

There was also a whole flood of tears running down her face.

But he tried to ignore those. Because he was pissed. And he was gonna STAY pissed until he got some God damn answers about how she could be so fucking STUPID!

Finally she blinked and sniffled.

"No," she croaked out, "of course I wasn't trying to get bit! I was just, um," she brought her hands up then, and started scrubbing at her tears, furiously trying to wipe them away, "I just, I was . . ."

And then she stopped, with her palms pressed in against her face, covering over her cheeks and jaw. The terror had started to fall away from her eyes by then, but now Daryl was readin' a new emotion in there.

Embarrassment.

"I had to go to the bathroom," she whispered.

And Daryl's teeth ground together.

"Well, that's what the BUDDY system's for," he bit back, refusing to soften his tone. "And you're not gonna tell me," he continued with a smack of his fist against the tree beside him, "that those other ladies didn't tell you, it ain't safe to be goin' off around here by yourself and dropping your pants!"

Yeah, maybe he was ridin' her hard on this thing given how she'd almost just died and all . . . but hell, everybody spent all their days now almost dyin'.

So that didn't make her special.

No, what made her special, was bein' NEW! And if she was a fuckin' idiot, he needed to know NOW, before she did something else stupid, that got her infected and she brought that shit back into the camp!

And he could see her now suckin' in a ragged pant, and shaking her head.

"No, I . . ." she swallowed, "I just . . ."

Then she stopped . . . and she let out another harsh breath. Then her hands fell down to start twisting in her lap.

"I just wanted to go to the bathroom by myself," she finally finished on a whisper as her watery eyes locked onto his . . . he could see that pink comin' back to her cheeks again, "okay? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wander so far, but I had a stomachache. And I know it was stupid to go off alone, but," her eyes fell down to her lap, as her voice fell, "it's just been hard getting used to not having any privacy."

Daryl's jaw started to unclench at that. Then he looked off to the left, and through the brush that he'd come running through a minute before.

His attention bounced back to the woman on the ground.

"Yeah, well," he muttered, "better no privacy than dead with your panties around your ankles."

There was a lot less edge, (and volume), in his tone that time. Because all right, maybe he was startin' to feel just a LITTLE bit sorry for her. Yeah, she'd done somethin' stupid, but . . . he huffed out a breath . . . it probably was harder on a lady gettin' used to living like this.

Like animals.

And he saw her biting her lip, before she breathed out a soft, "yeah, I learned my lesson on that one."

Then she shook her head, and started trying to push herself up off the ground . . . 'cept she wasn't havin' much luck with that. Not with walker guts all around her on one side and the walker itself on the other.

There was no clear place to put her hands to brace herself.

And after about two seconds of starin' at her fumbling to shimmy herself outta that mess, Daryl realized there really wasn't any upside to bein' a COMPLETE asshole to a lady whose only crime had been wantin' to take a shit without an audience. So he let out a sigh.

Then he put his hand out.

When her eyes darted up to his, he saw surprise there. The nerve in his left temple twitched.

"Well, come on," he grumbled, "ain't got all day."

She blinked and swallowed again . . . but she didn't reach for his hand. Instead she just continued to look up at him with that same look of surprise.

Though now there was some hurt in there too.

"Why are you still angry with me?" She finally whispered. "Why isn't me just being sorry enough?" Then her voice faded as her eyes started to water again, "why isn't that ever enough?"

Feeling a stab of something right in his gut, Daryl's fingers curled back into a loose fist. And for a moment he just looked down at this woman who was throwing him further and further off his day, with each new sentence out of her mouth.

Then suddenly his eyes widened. Because he'd just taken note of something he hadn't seen before.

Bruises.

Faint ones on her jaw . . . and finger marks on her shoulders.

And a cut, and some swellin', around the corner of her lip.

Those weren't the kinds of things he'd usually miss, but up until today he hadn't seen her up close before. And today, up until NOW, he'd been too busy being pissed off at her for wandering out in the woods, to really look anywhere on her face besides at her eyes.

Now that he had though, he was startin' to feel like a real dick.

Because even though he'd taken note that her husband . . . Ed, Daryl suddenly remembered his name . . . was a lazy, loud mouthed, piece of shit, loser type . . . that was all he'd taken note of.

He hadn't picked up that he liked to smack around his woman too.

In his defense though, on not pickin' up on that like he should've, those people had just got there. Barely forty-eight hours now since the three of 'em . . . there was the little one too, a daughter . . . had arrived at camp. And while they were doin' whatever they did to settle in, he'd been off hunting most all those wakin' hours. So he hadn't really seen any of 'em more than just in passin'. He got a quick glance at the woman that first night at dinner. And then a slightly better look at her through the scope when he'd been on guard duty the night before. She was thin, and she was pretty.

And she had a sweet smile when she talked to her girl.

That was about all the impression he'd made of her. Hell he'd only learned their names 'cuz he'd heard the other ladies talking when they were walking around collectin' laundry. It was Carol, and Ed . . . and Sophia. That was the little one. The one back in the camp now with that daddy of hers who liked to smack her mama around.

And maybe her too.

He bit his lip.

"I didn't mean to still be usin' a harsh tone there," he finally murmured back, trying to keep his voice soft as possible, "it's just how I talk. You don't gotta take it personal," he gave her a look, "cuz it ain't."

It was the best he could manage for an apology, because sayin' sorry wasn't really his thing.

Still though, she seemed to take it in. Because she blinked and looked down, and when she looked back up, he saw that her eyes were mostly dry again.

Then she gave him a slow nod.

"Okay," she sniffed, "I'll remember that."

"All right then," he cleared his throat in an effort to just move on now, "so you ready to get up?"

'Cuz it'd been a good four to five minutes now she'd been sitting on the ground with a walker rottin' away three inches to the left.

She had a good smell tolerance, he'd give her that.

That's when he saw her nose wrinkle . . . almost like she'd heard that last thought . . . right before she put her hand out.

"Yes," she gave a sharp nod, "please."

So he closed his fingers around hers . . . and yanked her up and away from that nasty piece down there on the ground. Unfortunately he was standing a little too close though when he made that move, because she ended up kind of bouncing against his shoulder when she slipped past him. When that happened though, he got a whiff of something light and flowery.

It was her hair.

"You still got shampoo?" He huffed in surprise. Because that was the kind of thing most people, (when fleein' for their lives), had not thought to bring with them.

To her credit, she seemed to get that. Because her mouth twisted in a faint, wry, smile.

"It was just a little sample one," she whispered back, while doin' a self-conscious brush of her fingers over those short, silver, spikes, "and I hardly need much, so I've rationing out just a drop every few days. I think it might last another week or so."

"Hmph," he took a step back and nodded, "well just don't let anybody swipe it from ya. 'Cuz best we got around here the last few days is just some bar soap and wet wipes. And the other ladies ain't been too happy 'bout that."

Carol's eyes widened.

"Oh," she bit her lip, "well then maybe I should be nice and share."

And his eyebrow quirked up.

"Or maybe you should just trade," he countered softly, "'cuz this is the new world now. You got something people want, you should get something in return. You don't gotta be nice for nothing no more."

Her lips pressed together.

"It doesn't cost anything to be nice," she murmured back, almost like she was afraid to contradict him. And you didn't have to be Kreskin to wonder why that was. So he just let out a heavy sigh.

"These days," he slipped his bow down from his shoulder as he shot her a look, "it costs everything to be nice."

Then he spun around and let another bolt fly . . . it dropped the walker coming up on them through the brush, twenty paces out.

From behind him, he heard Carol gasp.

"Oh my God," she panted out, "I didn't even hear him coming."

"Yeah," he shot her a look, "and that's why you ain't gonna be wanderin' around the woods by yourself no more, right?"

Her fist came up to press against her chest.

"Never again," she promised. So he gave her a quick nod for the plan to make better choices in the future. And though Daryl knew it was time they got a move on . . . two walkers in less than ten minutes made him a little antsy that maybe there was a crowd in the area . . . he couldn't help but notice Carol had started rubbing her stomach again.

"You still got a bellyache?" He asked with a side eye.

She nodded.

"Yeah, but," her hand stilled, almost like she was embarrassed that she was talking about it, "I'm sure it's nothing. Just getting used to the new diet, probably." Her lips twisted apologetically, "never had game meat before."

"Hmph," he grunted, just before he put his finger up, "wait here one second."

And then with her sputtering, "Wait, what? Where are you going?" from behind him, Daryl stepped around the walker, and continued on about fifteen or so paces until he reached a small stream cutting through the woods. That's where he stopped. Because he needed to get something that he'd seen earlier, but hadn't thought about much about then.

The little yellow flowers.

First though he rinsed his hands off in the rushing water, before he reached back to pluck out about a half dozen of the little plants by their stems, so he could get the roots out too.

Then he held them in a loose fist as he walked back over to where he'd left the pretty lady with the silver hair.

The whole detour had taken about two minutes.

"Here," he murmured, while holding them out in front of her, "it's fennel. Help settle your stomach."

And he saw her eyes widen right before she slowly reached out for the small bundle of flowers.

"Oh," she breathed out softly, "thank you. That's very nice. And I mean no offense of course, but um," her nose wrinkled as she looked up at him with an apologetic face, "are you sure it's fennel and not something else?"

Feeling a faint quirk of amusement . . . something that was mighty rare those days . . . he raised his arms halfway up his body, while doin' a slow three sixty turn in front of her. He made sure she could see the knives and squirrels hanging from his belt on the one side, and the satchel full of wild berries and mushrooms hanging down from the other.

Then of course there was the quiver and bow up over his shoulder.

"I'm not sure," he muttered drily, "but does it seem like I might be a person who knows what wild fennel looks like?"

At that, he saw her cheeks flush a light pink, right before her lips started to twitch.

"Yes," she gave him a little smile, "I guess if anyone would know, it would be you." Then she held the flowers up between them.

"So do I just chew it?" She asked him with a curious tip of her head. He shrugged at that.

"You can, or when we get back you can boil some water and make a tea. If you dry out the rest in the sun tomorrow," he jerked his chin, "you can hold onto it for next time you ain't feelin' well. It'd only be good for tea then though. But if you need more just," he rolled his eyes, "say something." He turned and waved his hand, "I'm out here all the time, so ain't no bother."

For a moment then she just looked over at him with an expression on her face that he couldn't quite read. And he kinda prided himself on bein' able to read most everyone, all the time.

But this face here was a mystery.

And yeah, he coulda come straight out and just asked her what she was thinking, but that would've required a bit more conversation than he was really lookin' to engage in that day.

Or ever.

So it was fortunate that she finally tipped her head forward, to give him another little nod.

"All right," she murmured, "I'll remember."

Her attention then dropped down as she pulled out one of the longer stems, before she moved to tuck the rest of the flowers into her pants pocket. And seein' then that she was ready to go . . . she had her little net bathroom bag with the toilet paper and hand sanitizer already up on her shoulder . . . he turned around to start leading her out of the woods. They needed to get a move on.

The shadows were gettin' longer.

Plus it was a good fifteen minute walk back to the camp, and he knew they needed to make that time before anybody realized Carol was missing. 'Cuz the last thing they needed was a search party comin' out looking for her, and people finding them both together. It wouldn't look good for somebody in her situation. Because a husband like hers would be lookin' for any excuse.

And Daryl sure as hell wasn't gonna give him one.

But it was after they'd been walkin' along maybe five minutes or so, in total silence, that he shot her a look out of the corner of his eye.

"So you're Carol?" He asked softly.

Yeah, he kinda already knew that. But he'd just realized he should probably actually confirm the name before he went off and used it. Just in case he'd heard wrong and it was like "Sheryl" or something.

Then he'd look like an idiot.

But he could see her giving him a tight nod as she swallowed down the bite of fennel in her mouth . . . the piece in her hand was about half gone.

"Yeah," she cleared her throat, "that's right. And you're um," her brow wrinkled, "you're Daryl, is that right?"

"Yeah," he let out a faint grunt as he kicked a rock out of the path, "that's me." His lips pursed.

"I'm Daryl."

A/N 2: Thus, The Caryl, was born! :)

I'm not generally much for the 'damsel in distress' tropage, but my brain does just keep going there with these two. But I think given what a mouse Carol was to start, it's almost impossible to write a 'meet/cute' (such as anything is cute in the ZA) where SHE could save his ass instead of the other way around. If I think of one, I'll be sure to share it though :) But the saving of one's ass by the other, is one quick way to build in an initial trust so I felt that worked for canon. And that's just again given how she clearly wasn't afraid of him getting loud and angry and confrontational, when somebody with her home life should have been wary of that kind of behavior in a man.

There were a few intentional echoes here from my meet for them in this story, and my meet for them in This Is Now. Anyone who knows me from Criminal Minds, knows I like the 'string theory' approach to writing :) One thing goes different, but other elements continue to ripple around.

Also I do (unfortunately for my brain) have a series of scenes in my head following along with these two in the days before and after Rick shows up. But again, I'm REALLY planning on not actively pushing this right now. So let's consider this a standalone 'meet and greet' until my psyche insists on coming back here again.

And FYI, "The Cedar Forest" is a realm of the gods. Think Valhalla, but for the ancient Mesopotamians. It really did seem o fit perfectly for this crew.

So hope you liked it! Thanks everybody! :)