Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. Nor do I own any rights to Warm Springs, GA. I just thought it was a cool setting for this fic.

Tags: *Daryl Dixon/Carol Peletier, *Caryl, *Daryl Dixon, *Carol Peletier, *Rick Grimes, *Lori Grimes, *Carol Grimes, *T-Dog, *Hershel Greene, *Beth Greene, *Maggie Greene, *Glenn Rhee, *Season 2/3 Interlude, *Hot Springs, *AU – Canon Divergence, *Angst (just a little), *Smut, *Fluff,

Summary: The group feels as if they're going in circles after the fall of the farm, always trying to stay ahead of hordes of the dead. Seeking refuge in Warm Springs, they're allowed to take a breather, but will Daryl let his guard down enough to see what's been in front of him all this time and take a chance at happiness? Carol certainly hopes so.

Rating: M/E

A/n: The blood ponies are running amok again. Therefore, I thought I would write this little tale for my dear friend - Ladybugsmomma - for Christmas. Hope you all enjoy this little sn 2/3 interlude. And a blessed Christmas to all.

Warm Springs

By:

CharlotteAshmore

Chapter One - Frozen Souls

Carol shivered uncontrollably against Daryl's back where she rode behind him on the Triumph. She pulled her gloved hands from his coat pockets and lifted her face to the winter sun as he turned the key, the bike falling silent. Her teeth chattered as she looked back over her shoulder at the few vehicles which had followed them through the gates. Her joints were stiff from the cold, and she felt the loss of his warmth immediately as he climbed off the motorcycle and reached for his crossbow.

"Go," he commanded brusquely, jerking his chin in the direction of the Suburban. "Climb in th' front with Lori an' try t' get warm." An' fuckin' stay there, woman, was left unsaid between them, a silent communication she knew better than to disobey.

Carol did as he'd ordered, hurrying to the Suburban, her eyes following him as he headed towards Rick, Glenn and T-Dog to shut and lock the barrier behind them. Lori threw open the door as she approached, pulling the woman inside to sit with her on the bench seat. She turned the heater on full blast and wrapped her arms around her friend, her hands rubbing briskly to restore warmth to her shaking limbs.

"I swear I don't know how you can stand to ride with him, Carol," Lori lamented for what must have been the hundredth time since they'd been run off the farm, leaving death and destruction in their wake. "Especially when you know there's more than enough room in here with us."

Carol sometimes wondered herself. Daryl was her friend – though he would probably deny it should someone ask him outright – and she felt safest with him. Dixon had been a pillar of strength during the darkest time of her life, and it had forged a bond – tentative yet unbreakable – between them. The pain, both wore like a cloak, seemed to call to the other, drawing them closer. She was nothing but a burden, or so she felt, and Daryl was always one step away from leaving them all in the dust. Neither felt as if they were truly part of the group, always lingering along the fringes. Yet more and more often, she'd found him seeking her approval in even the smallest of things. She couldn't understand him, why he sought her out, why he insisted she stick close to him, why he fought so hard to protect her. But she cherished him … every look, every deed, every gruff word uttered from his chapped lips.

She warred with herself constantly, loathing the fact her daughter was barely cold, and she was taking comfort in her friendship with the hunter. She didn't deserve her small measure of joy when Sophia had none. Yet, it would be easier to cure the virus than turn off her feelings for Daryl Dixon. He wouldn't allow her to give up, pushing her daily to learn new skills with every weapon available to them, adamant she fight to survive. Carol didn't want to acknowledge the true depths of her feelings for him, afraid if she would admit her love he would be taken from her too. It was something she couldn't bear to contemplate, the thought sending a shudder to rip through her petite frame.

"Wh-Where are we? D-Did Rick say? Daryl didn't, too anxious to g-get those gates closed." Carol asked, peering through the windshield at the grand house looming before them.

"The sign said Warm Springs, Georgia," Lori replied as she continued to try to warm her friend. "Rick said we're about sixty miles south of Atlanta."

Carol watched the men – armed to the teeth – mount the steps leading onto the porch of the old plantation house, leaving Carl to protect the women and wait for the all clear. Sixty miles? Sometimes – especially recently – it appeared the group was going in circles. She'd lost count of the times they'd gotten cut off by a herd. T-Dog was trying to keep track of where they'd been, the miles they traveled, so they could stay one step ahead of the dead, but in the end, it was pointless. Now, here they were again in a location which might only shelter them for an hour, perhaps two … if they were lucky. Never would she let herself hope they might have found some place which would allow them refuge for an entire night, a night where they wouldn't have to run or suffer the frigid temperatures of mid-December.

Carl leaned his chin on the back of the seat next to his mother's shoulder. "I remember this place from History class, Mom. That's the Little White House," he said, pointing towards the massive structure before them. "It's President Roosevelt's presidential library. He used to come here to bathe in the hot springs, seeking relief for his polo."

"You mean polio?" Lori asked with an indulgent smile.

"Yeah, that's it. This place has loads of 'em, and the temperature of the water is eighty-eight degrees year-round," he said proudly, glad he'd paid attention in class. "Remember, Mrs. Lawrence was going to organize a summer trip for our class before the outbreak."

Maggie leaned over the seat, grinning widely. "Do you know what this means?" she queried, barely able to contain her excitement. "We'll be able to have a bath AND wash clothes!"

Carol giggled. "Heaven!"

Lori plucked at her plaid button-down, wrinkling her nose. "Our clothes are no better than those you'd find on a walker. I'm surprised they haven't walked right off our bodies."

Carl snorted. "You are pretty disgusting, Mom!"

Carol's smile faded. After the last place they'd had to abandon – having to leave their packs and supplies behind – clothes were in short supply, leaving only those on their backs. Several attempts at looting had provided new camping gear, sleeping bags and blankets, but clothes … not so much. "We might be able to get a bath, and everyone can wash their clothes at the same time, but that's going to leave us running around with nothing but a blanket to cover us. Do you think we could chance it?"

Maggie's brow knit worriedly. "The wall around this place seems pretty sturdy, solid enough to keep the dead out. I think it's worth the risk. And it's not like we haven't all seen each other naked before with the lack of privacy."

"I'd actually pay good money to see Dixon clean," Lori smirked.

"You mean he wasn't born with at least five layers of filth?" Maggie joked.

Carol rolled her eyes at the both of them. "You're never going to get Daryl to take a bath." She knew for a fact he would set himself to guarding them all while the group bathed, but he wouldn't trust anyone to watch his own back.

"We could have Castro make it an order," Carl chimed in, referring to his father.

"Carl, stop calling your father that. You know it makes him all pissy," Lori admonished, though she couldn't really disagree. Yet, she'd be lying if she tried to refute the claim. A chasm had formed between her and her husband, one she didn't know if she'd ever breach.

"Even then, I doubt Daryl would obey."

Lori watched Daryl step out onto the porch and whistle, signaling it was safe for them to come inside, her lips turning up into a wicked grin. "I'll bet you a week of washing dishes Dixon has a bath before nightfall."

Carol shrugged, happily pondering a week free of the odious chore. "You're on," she chortled in amusement. The only way Lori would get Daryl in one of the springs was if she tricked him, and she knew her friend wasn't brave enough to attempt it.

*.*.*

Carol stared at the opulent rooms which led off the main foyer, flitting from one to another, her eyes wide, lips parted in awe. The old plantation home turned presidential library looked as if it hadn't been touched by the spread of the virus. There was a fine coating of dust on every surface, but the rank smell of walker, of death and decay, was blessedly absent. It was the best place they'd found thus far, and she could easily let her mind wander, imagining making an effort to turn the house into their new home. She nipped her musings in the bud, refusing to let herself hope. It would be Rick's decision, and as manic as he'd been lately, she was sure he'd find something wrong with it and have them moving on.

She nearly collided with Daryl as she entered the main library. "Oh, I'm sorry," she murmured, quickly dropping her hands where they'd braced against his chest, her cheeks flooding with color.

His hands settled at her waist, steadying her before he took a step back, gnawing at the inside of his lip as he watched her through the fringe of his lashes. "S'a'right … y' ok?"

"Yeah," she replied, mustering up a smile for him.

Daryl glanced over his shoulder before returning his gaze to her. "I … uhm … dropped our stuff over there. Figured it was as good a spot as any, an' T brought in our supplies. With th' two fireplaces in this room, we should be able t' keep from freezin' t' death t'night." Carol felt her stomach flutter as his smoky blue gaze affixed firmly to hers for more than a fleeting moment. "That a'right? I mean, y' don't have t' share with me if y' don't want t' … not now we've got heat an' room t' spread out."

Carol reached out and laid a reassuring hand on his arm, pleasure coursing through her when he didn't flinch or pull away. "I want to share with you, Daryl," she said gently. "I enjoy your company, and … you make me feel safe. There's nowhere I'd rather be than with you."

The hunter ducked his head and nodded, heat climbing up his neck to settle into the tips of his ears. "I'm gonna see if I can't go out and bag some game. Be nice t' have some meat t' go with all those canned vegetables we scavenged yesterday."

"You're going out?" Rick asked, moving towards the doorway where Daryl stood with Carol. "Take someone with you. We don't know the lay of the land or how far the walls extend."

"Don't need none o' y'all stomping through th' woods scarin' off anythin' I can track. I'm goin' alone," Daryl hissed through his teeth, his eyes narrowed at their leader.

Rick raised his hands before him and took a step back. "It'd be safer. At least until we've had a chance to scout out this place a little."

Mind made up, Daryl turned away, ignoring Rick only to stop when he felt Carol's small hand tug on the sleeve of his jacket. "Be safe," she whispered, letting go.

The hunter shot one more disdainful look Rick's way before he turned and nodded at Carol.

Rick planted his hands firmly on his hips and released a long slow breath, shaking his head as he watched Daryl exit through the front door. Dixon was his second in command, a place he'd earned, never hesitating to follow Rick's orders when it came to the safety of the group. But he also wouldn't listen for shit when it came to disappearing into the woods alone.

"Leave it, Rick. Please," Carol suggested, her azure eyes pleading. "The forest is his solace … don't take that from him."

He sighed. "I know, Carol. I just worry about him being out there alone. We depend on him so much …"

She stiffened beside him. "Is that the only reason?"

"What? No … he's my friend," he assured her. "You should know better than anyone we've come a long way since he threw that stringer of squirrels at me and pulled his knife."

Carol allowed him to steer her into the room, his hand hovering near the small of her back. "Daryl needed time to find his way, Rick. All he'd ever known was Merle," she sighed. "It had been the two of them for a long time with his brother running the show. Daryl was expected to follow blindly and go along with whatever Merle wanted. It wasn't the best situation."

A deep frown knitted his brow. "Daryl tell you this?"

"Not in so many words." They stopped near the hearth set into the far wall where Glenn had just built a nice fire to chase the chill from the room. "It's just an observation, snippets of conversation I don't think he realizes he'd revealed. Just … please, Rick, be patient with him. Once you have his loyalty, it will not falter."

He crossed his arms stubbornly over his chest. "But if he goes out there and gets himself killed –"

Carol shot him a patient smile. "You just have to trust he can take care of himself. Daryl was made for this world. Moreso than any of us." She interrupted again before he could protest. "Might I make a suggestion if you're that worried about him?"

Rick nodded, wondering how she could so easily read the hunter. He was a cop, trained to search out the truth in any given situation, but where Daryl was concerned, he was lost. "What did you have in mind?"

"Perhaps it would be a good idea to send out pairs to walk the perimeter. The property can't be all that big, right? The trees at the back is likely where Daryl has gone to hunt … within shouting distance to any who might be wandering by should he find himself in trouble …"

"That's downright brilliant, Carol … sneaky, but brilliant," he grinned. "Alright, let's gather everyone together and make plans before I pair everyone off."

Carol watched him go, feeling rather pleased with herself that she'd lifted his mood. He'd had very little to smile about lately, what with the strain in his marriage and the pressure of finding a safe place for the group. And perhaps if he was open to suggestions, he'd listen to just one more.

*.*.*

"I reckon we can use this room to camp out in for the time we'll be here," Rick said as the meeting began … minus their hunter who hadn't yet returned from his foray into the woods. "We've got two fireplaces, so it shouldn't take long to warm up. We can burn the books if we run out of wood before we can collect or chop more."

"Dad, we are NOT burning books!" Carl protested quite vehemently. "Centuries of our history is in this library. If by some miracle the entire population doesn't die out, we'll need this."

Rick gaped at his son, surprised at his passion. He knew his boy had always favored history in school, but when it came to keeping them warm, it would surely be a necessary sacrifice. "Carl –"

"No, he's right," Glenn added, coming to the boy's defense. "There needs to be a record for those who come after."

T-Dog leaned an arm against the mantle and shrugged. "There has to be something in here we can burn. Maybe something like A Rich Dude's Guide to Golfing or some shit."

Carol snickered from her place next to Lori on one of the many leather sofas spread throughout the library.

Rick shook his head and relented. "Ok, we'll only burn books not pertaining to our history." He shot a look of askance towards his son, relieved to see Carl nodding in satisfaction. He turned to Maggie. "Did you find anything in the kitchen? Anything we can add to our stores?"

"I didn't even attempt to open the refrigerator, but the pantry provided a good haul of canned goods and dry products. Soon as we get settled, we can whip something up for dinner tonight."

Hershel leaned back on the sofa he shared with Beth. "I think tomorrow we should go through some of the rooms upstairs to see what we can find."

"Ok," Rick agreed, "before we pair off to check the perimeter, are there any other concerns?"

Lori arched a brow in her husband's direction, surprised he was actually willing to ask their opinions. "I think we all need a bath. I, for one, don't think we should let those hot springs go to waste. Not to mention, we all need to wash our clothes."

"Well, I ain't running around this place in my birthday suit waiting for my clothes to dry," T-Dog snorted. Beth looked alarmed, her eyes wide as she glanced at her father.

"No one is going to have to run around naked, T," Carol chuckled. "There is our trove of blankets to cover up with, and I'm sure there's more upstairs. This was a home once, preserved, I'm sure, with where Roosevelt slept when he was here."

"Yeah, there were a couple bedrooms," Glenn added.

"Good. First the perimeter, dinner, and then we'll see about getting in a wash before we bed down for the night," Rick said, pleased to see the faint smiles from the group. He didn't have to be a hard ass all the time.

*.*.*

Daryl leaned his shoulder against a beech tree and lit a cigarette, his head falling back as he inhaled the pungent smoke, delighting in the nicotine rush spiraling through his body. He stared down at the stringer of four rabbits which bounced against his right hip with every movement, idly wondering how he'd found enough focus to bag that many. His emotions were all over the place … relief they'd found a place for the night – hopefully more than one night - anger for snapping at Rick when the man hadn't meant any harm, and confusion over Carol. Always his Carol. He rubbed his chest where her hands had been braced just a few hours before, his nerves still awake and alive from her soft touch. He wanted her so badly. It was a burning ache in his body he couldn't seem to quench despite his efforts to find release.

For a shy introverted man who'd never known love before in his life, he'd fallen hard. It had taken him even longer to recognize the emotion for what it was. The time they'd spent together searching for Sophia had brought out a softer side to his personality, one to which she'd eagerly responded. Carol had a fair share of ghosts in her past, abuse both mental and physical, making it easy to recognize the signs in him. She scared the hell out of him, creeping beneath his walls without notice until it had all come crashing down on him in the form of her daughter's death. He hadn't wanted to accept it and looked for someone to blame, lashing out at her because he couldn't deal with his pain, his failure. He'd wanted nothing more than to bring that little girl home to her mama.

Daryl took another drag off his cigarette as he looked to the position of the sun, wondering how much longer he'd have out in the woods before Rick sent someone to look for him. He shouldered his crossbow and turned back in the direction of the house. The last thing he wanted was for Carol to worry.

His mind filled with visions of her sweet smile. She was so strong, and didn't even know it. She'd fought for him, brushed off his verbal abuse that night on the farm, determined to keep him chained to the group, and though she didn't realize it … to her. He should have left, he thought bitterly. He didn't deserve her kindness or care. Yet, he craved it deep within his ragged soul. He'd submitted to her will; something he'd vowed he would never allow to happen again … not after being enchained to his father for too many years to count, and then again to his brother. Daryl had never felt such a connection to another as he did with Carol.

That last night on the farm when he'd plucked her from ashes and ruin, he'd known. Deep in his heart, he'd known he would always belong to her. Dixon's mated for life, and the beast within him had roared its pleasure to have her molded to his back, her slender arms wrapped around his chest as they rode towards safety. Daryl had made it his mission to train her in defense, arming her with a knife of her own. He schooled her in weapons, making her break down their rifles and handguns and reassemble them until her fingertips were bruised. She'd never find herself defenseless again, not if he could help it. He would not allow her to fall, and he would stick by her side to make sure of it.

And she could never know how deeply his feelings ran for her. She considered him her friend … her best friend – for some unknown reason as gruff and surly as he was with her. He couldn't bear to see rejection and pity in those eyes which haunted his dreams. Even now, his body burned for her, but Dixons had never been lucky in love.

A/n: Hope you're enjoying! Will have chapter two out to you tomorrow. Let me know what you think about it so far :D Merry Christmas!