AN and Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead at all- just a big fan.

This is really the first piece of fan fiction I've ever written, so feedback and critique is welcome. I'm not so great with punctuation sometimes (I'm a huge fan of the comma splice so I made efforts to avoid that) so feel free to let me know if I'm consistently making a mistake.

Also, this is meant to be a one-shot but I suppose it could be more than that if I'm inspired. I hope that I've stayed true to the story and the characters as much as possible. I'm a fan of the way they were written originally and I hope that I didn't get too far off track. The Caryl pairing is something I'm hoping for though, so I hope I didn't come on too strong. J The story focuses on them, but I also tried to inject just enough of the other characters to make it feel canon.

I hope you enjoy.

Rare and Welcome

The days had already become bitterly cold and the camps they made were rudimentary as they searched for a more permanent solution to their nomad lifestyle. The encounters with individual walkers were growing scarcer. Rick reckoned they were all gathering into herds, moving as one toward the sounds and smells that sent them shambling toward their prey.

In fact, that's about all anyone got out of Rick lately. He only spoke of their next camp, strategy, or the state of their survival. Everyone was tense in those early days, before they found the house. It wasn't anything special or unique- just a regular farmhouse in the countryside of Georgia. But it was uninhabited and once they'd cleared out the walkers and pests, it was theirs. It was then that everyone was able to relax a little. Rick was still tight lipped about anything but their next move, but everyone else fell into an easy routine. Everyone had their jobs to do.

In the mornings, it was Daryl's duty to hunt or go on a run. He accepted these without prompt, and in truth quite liked the solitude. But leaving the group never crossed his mind. He had already begrudgingly accepted that he cared what happened to these people. He promised himself he'd keep them safe and fed. He did the best he could, but with winter in its early stages, animals were seeking refuge and huddling up, much like his own group. He made do by making trips into town and finding what he could.

With Lori's pregnancy advancing, Carol took it upon herself to not only assist her with anything she needed, but also spearhead the housework duties. She didn't want Lori straining herself with the difficult chores so she found herself bent over most of the day, cleaning, washing, and cooking. She kept her eyes open and sharp though, for the one who was usually missing and out doing his own part for the survival of the group.

Carol really admired Daryl in more ways than one. Mostly, it was his selflessness. The way he volunteered for the toughest jobs and always came back head bowed and humble, despite having saved them from danger or starvation made her feel an immense sense of pride for even having known him. She also hadn't ever discounted what lengths he went to for her and her little girl. It took her some time, but she finally realized that it was a loss for him too. Daryl cared what happened to Sophia, and he really wanted to find her and bring her back to safety and her mother.

Carol, lost in thought over her washboard, wiped a tear that slipped from her eye and exhaled sharply. She didn't cry for Sophia anymore, she cried because the fact that someone could care that much wrenched her heart and made her smile at the same time.

The air was cold and crisp, but bearable in her jacket she found in the house. It was nearly brand-new and a bold tomato red. Carol felt that it drew too much attention to her, but she liked it regardless. Everyone knew where Carol was thanks to her new coat.

Her thoughts turned back to Daryl when her ears picked up the faintest sound of a motorcycle advancing quickly down the road. He'd be here soon. She smiled again and turned her eyes to the road. It occurred to her then that she was alone out in the front yard with her washing. Everyone else was either huddled up in the house or off scouting in the nearby woods. No one was ever as concerned as Carol to welcome home their unlikely hero, Daryl Dixon.

Carol often had nightmares on nights where he was out hunting or foraging that he'd never come back. That he'd be bitten, or simply just run away. These were scarier scenarios to her than their current predicament, being on the run from herds or starving to death. So, she always made sure to welcome him back, to let him know that he was missed. At first, he would shrug her off with a simple "was nothin'" or a gruff grunt in her direction, but after days and days of trips and dozens of squirrels he accepted Carol's greeting with a nod or a smirk.

Today, he had gone into town to look for any supplies available. They were running low on just about everything and it was starting to show. Bodies grew thin as they gave up meals to Lori and Carl, the two members of their new family who needed it most. As Daryl maneuvered his brother's bike down the gravel driveway, Carol hung up Beth's shirt she just finished washing and strode over to the bike.

Daryl dismounted and pulled his leather vest tighter, it wasn't that cold outside, but definitely frigid once you have the wind whipping your face at 50 miles an hour. His lips felt like ice and he pursed them tightly, trying to force some life and warmth into them.

He sensed Carol approaching and made himself busy digging in the side compartments for the bag of few items he found in the stores. He always got this odd nervous feeling when she was around. It wasn't necessarily a bad feeling, just one that made him feel slightly uncomfortable in a way that was foreign to him. She was so friendly and caring, and frankly, he didn't know how to receive it. Shrugging her off was something he tried early on, and it didn't stop her. Now, he tried to keep it all business to avoid having to speak to her for too long. He timed it correctly, and just as she was behind him, he turned and thrust a plastic grocery bag at her. It held a few cans of food and some rudimentary medical supplies like band-aids. They wouldn't be much use against the types of injuries this group usually incurred, but he figured it wouldn't hurt to grab them.

She thanked him for the bag, their hands brushing as they exchanged it. His hands were ice cold from gripping the handlebars in the winter wind. She let an "oh" slip from her mouth, and put the bag down beside her. Saying nothing, she took hold of the hand still extended toward her and sandwiched it between her own.

Feeling that feeling of fluttering in his core again, Daryl shoved his other hand in his pocket before she could seize that one too. Her delicate hands were still warm from having them in the hot washing water. She gently rubbed his hand, creating some friction to warm his up. He looked down at their hands, lips still set in a pursed line. It felt nice, but he wished he could run far away.

Carol looked up and smiled at his face as if to ask him "there, better?" but knew that he wouldn't answer. She released his hand and he shoved that one in his jeans pocket as well. She could see how rigid he was standing there in front of her. She wanted to assure him that she wouldn't hurt him, and that she was so glad he was back. But she knew that Daryl Dixon wasn't a man for words. So she reached up with her still-warm hands and pressed them on either sides of his face.

Daryl nearly flinched as she came at him and clenched his jaw as she reached for his face. But when her hands instantly added warmth to his face, he relaxed incrementally, first in his jaw, then his shoulders, then his back. It was so nice, but he'd be damned if he'd admit that to her. Instead, his mouth hung slightly open and he locked blue eyes with her by mistake. He gently nodded, simultaneously implying a thanks and that that would be enough.

She smiled back at him, and slipped her hands away from the sides of his face, dappled with scruff. She bent to pick up the shopping bag, and with one last smile, walked back to the house.

Daryl stood rooted to the spot for a few moments, trying to process all of the feelings and thoughts going through him. He wasn't angry or frustrated or any of his usual go-to reactions. He felt simultaneously uncomfortable and comfortable. It was a bizarre combination and he wasn't sure what to make of it. He cared about Carol, but this "making him want to run" stuff had to stop. He couldn't leave himself distracted and forfeit the safety of the group. However, the warmth that Carol sent his way was precious to him, not that he would admit it. Her smile, her caring nature, and her thoughtfulness was something he never had before, or maybe even ever. He wasn't about to give that up either.