So, this is my very first Walking Dead story but I hope I do these amazing characters justice and that ya'll get some enjoyment out of it.

I own nothing. I just use someone else's creations for my own imaginative stories. I get no personal gain from any of this except for the enjoyment of writing.

Good Lord, how much more can this woman possibly cry? Daryl Dixon rolled over onto his side and looked up at the figure lying on the bed in the rear of the RV. If it weren't deathly silent outside, minus the crickets and frogs making their night noises, no one would have noticed the little sobbing sounds coming from the darkness of the Winnebago. But his eyes and ears had the fine tuned abilities required of a good hunter and he could see her dark form shaking as she struggled to keep the crying as quiet as possible.

He couldn't take it any longer. He didn't know why those sad sounds she made every night tore at him like they did but he found himself unable to think of anything but finding that little girl. Sighing heavily, he stood up and grabbed his crossbow from the floor next to his bedroll and slung it over his shoulder.

"Daryl?" the smallest of whispers reached his ears from behind him. He only grunted in response.

He heard the sound of shifting material as Carol rolled over onto her back, he could feel her eyes watching him as he examined the arrows he was taking along.

"What are you doing?" she asked softly.

"Whadd'ya think I'm doin'?" he replied, the fact that he wasn't getting a lot of sleep lately was very clear in the harshness of his tone. "I'm gonna go find your little girl."

He didn't feel like explaining anything more to her. He didn't want her to know how much her crying tugged at his usually hardened heart. He didn't want her to know that he was doing this more for her sake than her daughter's.

The sticky heat of the day was gone and Daryl took a deep breath as he stood at the edge of the camp. The sun was just beginning to rise and light was peeking through the trees, making the gone-to-shit world look almost peaceful again. But he shook his head and laughed at his own thought. Peaceful my ass. You think Sophia is at peace at all out there? Get your mind off the impossible and get your shit together. He gave a sharp nod and readjusted the crossbow before making his way silently out of camp.

Carol's head was throbbing when she finally decided to stop faking her sleep and get up. She could smell SPAM cooking and she felt bile rise in her throat. She hadn't eaten in quite a while and she was to that point of hunger where one knows they NEED to eat, but the thought of food made you sick.

Swallowing the sick feeling, she sat up on the edge of the bed. She noticed Daryl's bedroll was still there in the walkway to the back of the RV and she smiled slightly when she remembered he was out there looking for her baby.

"God bless you, Daryl Dixon," she whispered out loud to herself. She stood, put her shoes on and then neatly rolled his bedding up, setting it on the foot of the bed. Then she turned, took a steadying breath and walked out of the RV to face the cruel world.

"Morning, Carol," she heard Dale greet her from above in his usually spot on the RV's roof. She looked up and met his smile with one of her own.

"Morning, Dale," she replied, "What time is it?"

"About eleven," Dale glanced at his watch.

Damn. She always managed to sleep much later than she planned and no one ever woke her up. But why would they? She wasn't really in a very good condition to be doing much. Sure, she kept busy with laundry, cooking and the like but she felt that those were chores anyone could do. Honestly, she just didn't feel needed or at all important to the survival of this group.

"Carol, you seen Daryl this morning?" Andrea's voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Not since sunrise," she admitted, that worried feeling grabbed hold of her guts and twisted them even though she knew Daryl could take care of himself. "He woke up early and said he was going out to look for Sophia. He's not back yet?"

Andrea shook her head and made an annoyed sound as she looked over the pasture towards the woods.

"One of these days he's gonna bite off more than he can chew out there by himself," she mumbled. Carol felt guilt sting through her and she hung her head and backed away, heading towards the fire where Lori had the SPAM laid out on a chipped plate.

"Hey, Carol," Lori smiled up at her, but Carol could see the smell of the cooking canned meat wasn't doing her any favors either.

"Hey, Lori," Carol said softly, automatically putting the meat on individual small plates and lids to pass out among the group. Lori laid a hand on her arm and stared at her intently. "Daryl's out looking again this morning…you know he goes out at least once every day? He claims he's going hunting but he usually doesn't come back with much…because he's doing a different kind of hunting."

Carol nodded. Yes, she knew. She knew and she felt a warmth spread through her at the thought. He was the only one who was taking a highly active role in finding Sophia and she felt her heart making room for the gruff, angry hillbilly. She found herself wanting to know his story, his thoughts, his motives…all of who he was.

"Daryl's a very good man," she replied to Lori, looking off at the distant woods, her eyes searching for a sign of movement signaling his return.

"Yes," Lori's voice held something different in it and she looked at Carol with an odd expression that she couldn't pin point. "Yes, he is."

"Who would've thought, right?" T-Dog said suddenly, making Carol jump a little. "I mean, look at who he's related to."

Everybody shook their heads in disgust. Merle Dixon had NEVER been a favorite among the Atlanta survivors. He had been brash and rude and positively disgusting and he was always yelling at something or other. Thinking back, Carol hardly remembered when she realized there WAS another Dixon, Daryl's silent solitary attitude had been far overshadowed by Merle's obnoxious personality. She remembered that she only realized he existed when he came limping into camp one afternoon with a buck on his back, crossbow hanging over his chest, arrow between his teeth. He had tracked that deer for days and had gotten the limp when the deer kicked him in the leg while struggling as he finished it off with a knife to the throat after it was on the ground from his arrow. They had had a wonderful meal that night and Daryl was proclaimed a brilliant and highly talented hunter. She remembered Merle's sneer in the glow of the fire as he watched his little brother's every move and Daryl's submissive countenance as he shifted under the weight of his brother's gaze.

Carol's heart squeezed at the memories. How could she not have noticed him before? Why had she never considered him at all valuable? Even if he never really talked a whole lot, he provided a good part of their food and he was brilliant with any weapon he had in his hands and she knew he had used all his skills to protect the group…well, she knew NOW anyway and from this point on she was not going to let his contribution go unnoticed.

I think it's high time people realized that he's every bit as human as any of us and deserves a little respect. I know how it feels to think that nothing you do matters to anyone else. That was the thought that popped into her mind when she finally saw him emerge from around the RV, without Sophia and looking like he wanted to kill a Walker with his bare hands. She made a point to avoid him for a while until he felt ready to tell her he had been unsuccessful once again. Carol realized how hard it was for Daryl Dixon to admit defeat.

This is just the intro and the character setup, there will be longer, better chapters to come…in about a month because I'm going to New York City until June 2nd. Please review and let me know what you think in the meantime! Also, feel free to make any plot suggestions and I'll see how I might fit them into the plot I have in my head.