A/N: This is set right after S3 finale.

He'd known for a long while, known the reason his eyes always found her, the reason he'd do anything to keep her alive. He'd always known how to survive, how to track, it was just the first time in his life he'd been tracking something without realizing he was tracking it until he caught up to it and it stared him point blank in the face.

Some sort of crazy mix of Carol and feelings—neither really independent of each other, a package deal he wasn't expecting when his heart started following the tracks.

It wasn't like he didn't know how he felt, just didn't mean he was planning on acting on it. Things were fine the way they were. He could die knowing what he knew and he could live with the crushing weight of his feelings. His life had purpose now and he didn't need anything more than that.

He'd grown comfortable with his perspective of the situation—relationship—and it made sense, at least to him.

Even though he wasn't going to do anything, that didn't change the fact that every choice he made was in relationship to Carol. Like when the Woodbury people moved in and Daryl had walked into her cell with his stuff.

"Less room now," he had said and she nodded, her eyes smiling at him warmly. When she moved to the top bunk, claiming he needed the bottom bunk so he could be on his feet faster and out the door in an emergency, he wondered if they shared some sort of telepathic communication or something. Not that she was thinking about the same type of emergency he was, because it really didn't matter which bunk he was on, the whole reason he was in her cell was to protect her in case of an emergency, not go running out the door and leavin' her behind.

The new people wandering around the prison gave Daryl the excuse he needed to just do it, just move in with her without making a big deal out of it. Big deals weren't his thing. It was the little deals, the little choices that counted up and mattered most.

Then there was the time when a Woodbury girl no older than Beth had sidled up to him when he came in from watch duty, asking if she could touch his crossbow. He glared at her, wondering if she'd lost her mind. Carol had been mending clothes nearby and laughed. "Daryl be nice, she's not going to bite."

"Oh, I might," the girl said, flashing a wide smile. Daryl didn't miss the look of shock in Carol's eyes, because that's where his eyes went immediately after the girl said that.

Daryl silently answered the girl's question by turning his body away from her, taking his crossbow out of reach. "Carol," he called out, real loud and decisive. "I'm gonna go clean up, you need somethin' from our room?"

Carol blinked. Twice. Then she stuck herself with the needle as it went through the cloth. "Ahhhhhh!" She winced and Daryl moved to her side immediately, the Woodbury girl gawking like a damn lookie loo.

"Shit woman, be careful," he said, grabbing her hand to check her finger. There wasn't any blood, but he held onto her hand anyway, for good measure, or whatever the fuck that girl needed to see to get the message and scram.

Carol's face brightened in understanding and she began playing along, letting him check each finger and even leaning into him a bit. "It's just a prick, I'll be fine," she said, her eyes twinkling up at him. She was damn good at putting on a show, but he'd seen that twinkle before and knew it was real. And damn if it didn't fuck with his head.

By the time he had finally turned around, the girl was gone. Good riddance.

Later that night, Carol had brought it up while she was straightening out the sheets on the top bunk. "You know, you could have just told her you're not interested or that she's too young."

"Who? That girl?" Daryl looked up from where he sat on the floor, putting new laces in his boots. The old ones were frayed and barely long enough to tie anymore so he had taken some off the boots of a fallen walker. No point in good laces going to waste.

Carol stopped and gave him that look, the one she used when she thought he could be domesticated. As if.

"What?" Daryl countered. "She'll leave you alone now so what's the difference?"

"Me?" Carol looked bewildered. "Daryl, you didn't do that for me, you did that for you."

He saw the confusion flash in her eyes before responding with a shrug. "Same thing," he said, not sure what the difference was.

Carol opened her mouth to respond, but then closed it and turned away. Daryl waited, knowing she had something to say. When she turned back to face him, her mouth opened again, but still no words came out.

"You okay?" he asked, rising to his feet. He'd seen her speechless before, but he couldn't quite read which way she was going to tip this time.

And then she just burst out laughing. Relieved, he laughed with her, just because he wanted to, not because he knew what she was laughing about. "Yeah, I'm okay. I'm okay," she said when her laughter faded off. The twinkle in her eyes didn't fade though, which was something he was glad for.

He had been making choices in relationship to Carol for a long time, but they were starting to add up and she was starting to notice. He wasn't sure how she'd take it, but it didn't matter, it's not like he could stop. She was like a trail, he didn't have a choice where it led him, just whether or not to keep following it. Each choice led him to the next, confirming what he already knew—he was a tracker, a damn good one at that, and there was no going back, because after years of being lost, he'd finally found his trail.