AN: So, this one is super cute. Because I can. More Carol x Daryl (can you tell I hate the term 'Caryl' to describe this couple?) FLUFF. Yay! This one is set after 'moving in' but is a standalone as well.

Enjoy, and as always, thank you for reading. I love you all.

-Shazzy

Nightmares

They had taken quite easily to living together. The tent was a comfortable size and Daryl didn't complain when she moved his things to make it more comfortable for them both. She was polite and quiet and never touched his crossbow. He didn't even complain when she insisted on doing his laundry. Carol had to wonder if he'd already gotten used to the idea of having a woman around for more than just sex. Not that they were having any of that.

They slept together every night, but hadn't been intimate. It was probably a good thing, Carol reflected.

It was a particularly cold night, however, and they were curled up together, Daryl had his arm wrapped protectively across Carol's waist as she slept on her side with her back to him. She was having trouble sleeping, though.

She wasn't aware of what it was that was keeping her awake until she felt Daryl's hand twitch against her stomach. She was used to his little sleep twitches, but this was different. His fingers drummed an erratic rhythm against her flesh and his hand clenched into a fist. It wasn't until his whole arm twitched, driving his elbow unintentionally into her hip that she knew something was wrong.

She rolled over and sat up, taking his balled fist into her small hands.

"Daryl? She whispered.

Daryl groaned unintelligibly in response.

"Daryl? It's okay." She murmured, running her fingers through his hair. "I"m here."

"Mmm..." Daryl grumbled. "Merle..."

A look of pain crept across Carol's face. Daryl rarely spoke in his sleep, and usually his words were jumbled beyond recognition.

"Merle isn't here, sweetie." Carol said quietly, running her fingers against the knuckles of his hand.

"Sonofabitch..." Daryl grumbled. "Gone away... in trouble..."

"You're not in trouble." Carol explained.

"No... Merle is."

Carol frowned. She knew he was dreaming, but it sounded so painful, so horrible and he was held in the grip of the nightmare. She wouldn't wake him, that would be the worst thing. Like sleepwalking, night terrors are best to just assist, not to wake the victim up. She felt tears in her eyes, though. She hated to know he was suffering.

"Where is he?" Carol asked, fidgeting in her place. She wished he would wake up from his torment.

"Gone." Daryl said with a sad sigh. "They left 'im an' I can't find 'im anywhere."

"Where are you?" Carol asked, brushing his hair away from his forehead.

"Home." Daryl replied, twitching again. "Sonofabitch."

"Daryl?" Carol asked, finally deciding to try a different tactic. "Merle moved away, he has a wife now, he lives in a different house. This is your home, not his, and not your family's home. You came to see me, not Merle."

Daryl groaned, a whimpering sort of noise that was part confusion part disbelief and all sadness.

"The house is real pretty, though. And you brought me flowers." Carol continued, clasping her hands tightly around Daryl's fist. "You've been workin' a lot." She added, stifling a yawn. "You work in a garage, repairing trucks and stuff."

"Do I?" Daryl mumbled, his shoulders relaxing.

"You do." Carol replied. "And we got out of Georgia. We went..."

"North." Daryl replied, his voice softer, more sleepy. "To Montana. Colder. No walkers..."

"Yes." Carol said quietly, leaning over to kiss his temple before she settled back down next to him. She wrapped her arm over his chest, facing him still. "Yes, we went north."

Why can't you convince the others that that's what we need to do?

When Carol woke up the next morning, she was surprised to see a branch of late-blooming flowers beside her. She wondered just how much of their conversation Daryl remembered in his waking moments.