"Morning, Daryl!"

"How's it goin', Daryl?"

"Mr. Dixon, I just wanted to thank you…"

Holy shit, that was just about more than he could stand - Mr. Dixon, like he was some grizzled ancient, camped out over a checkerboard in front of the hardware store. These days he couldn't even stop to get some goddamn breakfast without a ton of people pecking at him, all wanting a piece of his time. If it'd been left up to him he'd've just kept going, straight out to the bike, jump on and head down the road, put some miles between him and their damn' attention. Carol seemed to treat it all like it was one big joke sometimes, acting like he was an unbroken colt skittering around at the end of a longe line, trying his best to avoid the inevitable point where he'd get used to the controlling bit in his mouth. Well, he'd be fucked if he was gonna go down easy. He might have to put up with them, but he didn't have to act like he liked it.

"Hey, Daaarryl." The woman's voice caressed his name, the vowel sliding from her throat like velvet. "Lookin' good, sugar." She tossed her shoulder-length blonde hair back as she brushed past him, close enough that he could smell the shampoo she'd used, and she straight-up giggled, like she was a schoolgirl instead of the thirty-something year old she was. Amy, Emma…Ann? He couldn't keep the names straight. This one had made sure he noticed her, though, seeming to cross his path any chance she got, and pretty much shoving the gifts the good lord gave her in his face every time. Not that he objected to the scenery, but she wasn't really offering anything he was interested in.

A hand touched his elbow lightly, and he startled for a split second. "Looks like you've made another conquest, hm?" Carol arched an eyebrow and grinned at him. "Elise? She's made it pretty clear she'd like to climb you like a ladder, given the opportunity."

Elise, that was it. "Can't hardly turn around but she's underfoot," Daryl groused. "Woman's always findin' some reason to rub up against me, make some kinda comment. Beginnin' to think she's stalkin' me or somethin'."

"Well, she'd apparently like to get to know you better," Carol said. "You can't tell me the attention of a pretty woman like that doesn't spark a man's interest."

"Yeah, I guess, if you go for that sort. She's got a nice enough set of… uh, eyes… " he trailed off, wary of the quicksand ahead of him. What's-her-name did have beautiful eyes. Dark green, the color of oak leaves in the summer. He could hardly be blamed for taking note, the way the woman was always batting her eyelashes at him.

Damn Carol anyway. Why was she always pushing him about this sort of stuff, like she wanted him to hook up with somebody? Didn't she get that the only one he'd ever had eyes for, the only woman who meant anything to him, was her? And unless he'd read her all wrong, she wasn't looking at anyone else herself, so he didn't get what she was playing at, and this cat-and-mouse shit was starting to wear on his last nerve. If it was a game she wanted, then a game she'd get, and he didn't aim to lose.

He rubbed his hand over the scruff on his chin and slid a look in Carol's direction. "Name's Elise, huh? Kinda outta my league, ain't she? Classy chick like that wouldn'ta given me the time of day before all this. Think I got a real shot with her?"

He watched as Carol's eyes opened wide and then darted away from his. Not so disinterested after all, Miz Carol? Seemed like she'd expected him to act the way he usually did and blow off the suggestion, and Daryl felt a smug little tickle of satisfaction at having surprised her for a change. Yeah, for all her teasing and insinuations, she wasn't any too happy about the actual prospect of him pursuing another woman, so what the hell was she doing, practically throwing him at this Elise? Any other man might start to think she actually wanted him to seek other pastures.

"You're a man in his prime, Daryl," Carol said tartly, "one of the few in this godforsaken place, and you'd be quite the catch for any woman. If you go after her, I doubt she'd turn you down, especially given the way she's been trailing along in your footsteps these last few days."

He bit down hard on the urge to call her on her bullshit. "Huh," he said, opting instead to play dumb, "never really thought of it that way. Me bein' a 'catch', I mean. S'pose when the pickin's are lean, even a greasy ol' hick like me might start to look pretty good."

"Don't," she said fiercely, the last trace of amusement gone from her voice. "Never sell yourself short like that, Daryl. You're a good man, loyal and hard-working, and with the kind of skills we need in this world. She'd be lucky to have you." She turned back to the stove, fiddling with the pots and pans, agitation written in every line of her body, and Daryl began to regret he'd ever followed the impulse to get even with her for messing with his head. But hell, she'd practically asked for it, hadn't she?

Women. Damned if you did and damned if you didn't, and was it any wonder he'd avoided the whole relationship thing all along?

Carol turned away from him and focused on something she could control - shifting this pot over to a hotter section of coals so it would simmer, pulling that pan off the grill and giving it a vigorous stir. Anything to keep her hands busy and her mind off the splintering ice beneath her. It had been bound to happen - finally a woman had caught Daryl's eye, and she couldn't have been more thrilled. Really. And if she'd been the one to draw his attention to that woman's potential charms, well, that was because she was his friend, and ultimately she wanted him to be happy. However that came about.

Funny how doing something for someone else's happiness could leave such a bitter taste in your mouth. Maybe the bitterness had to do with the flavor of lying to yourself.

The breeze had picked up since morning, and Daryl grabbed his jacket from where he'd thrown it earlier and followed Carol down toward the perimeter. There was no real reason she couldn't have told him whatever the problem was right where they stood - it wasn't like he needed the guided tour - but he figured she wanted a few minutes alone. It usually made both of them feel better, more steady, if they could check in with each other from time to time, away from the others; get a chance to breathe a bit of fresh air without the pressure of so many bodies and all their needs.

They arrived at the inner fence, and she pointed out the trouble - increased walker activity, threatening the stability of the reinforcements they'd put up. Meant that some would have to stay behind to work on knocking down the mass of dead, and fewer to go on the day's run. That wasn't always a bad thing - inexperienced people could foul things up by getting in the way of a practiced team, but the only way they'd learn was by doing, and he'd been hoping the Big Spot would be a good training opportunity. He'd have to be careful when he revised the list of the ones going along, make sure he got a good balance of cool-headed veterans and those who still needed a bit of seasoning before he'd feel confident they could keep it together if a situation turned bad.

"Sorry, Pookie," she said, placatingly. He scoffed at the goofy nickname, poking her with an elbow in return. He couldn't even remember where that had come from; it was just one of a list of pet names she pulled out from time to time - "sweet pea" and "pumpkin", for starters - like how you'd end up calling your dog a whole bunch of things in addition to its real name. Anybody else trying to pull shit like that with him would be lucky if they got off with just his boot up their ass, but he let Carol get away with it. It was sorta sweet. Made him feel… special, somehow.

"Why d'you do that, anyway?" The question slipped out of his mouth before he could stop it.

Carol blinked at him, caught off guard. "Do what?" she asked.

"Nah, never mind," Daryl said, shaking his head irritably. It was dumb. He'd just been griping to himself about women and how much they complicated things, and here he was asking for more of the same.

"Why do I call you things like 'pookie'? I'm not sure. I think a shrink would call it 'displacement.'" She glanced away, disconcerted. "I'm sorry. If it makes you uncomfortable I'll stop."

He shrugged silently, uneasily. "Don't matter. You can call me whatever. I know what you mean."

"No," she said, her tone dry with sarcasm. "No, I doubt you do. But that's okay. It's not really important, anyway."

She turned back to the cooking shack, and he watched her go, bewildered. What the hell just happened there?

Carol dropped the stack of pots into the sink. Another conversation with Daryl, another prime example of missed opportunities and misread cues, and now she was all out of sorts, her head beginning to throb. She'd just have to power through it, get done with the cleaning up, and then see if she couldn't take a few minutes to lie down. Often the only thing that helped her headaches was solitude, even though that meant being alone with her disquieting thoughts.

What had possessed her to point Elise out to Daryl? It wasn't like the man lacked for observational skills - if he'd been looking, he surely would have noticed the woman's interest all on his own. She'd made it painfully clear she was on the hunt for a big strong man, and Daryl certainly qualified on all counts. Carol was fairly sure Elise had already test-driven a few of the eligible men, but thus far apparently hadn't found one to her liking. It had only been a matter of time before she set her sights on Daryl. Frankly, Carol was surprised it had taken her this long.

"So what's the story with you and the redneck?" Carol had been so distracted by her thoughts she hadn't even heard Elise's approach, and the pan in her hands slipped from her grasp to fall with a clatter to the counter. Speak of the devil, and she will appear?

"I'm sorry, what?" Carol stammered. The younger woman's face was flushed a dark pink, and Carol nearly took a step backward from her evident hostility.

"You heard me. I just got warned off by that Maggie girl, and I wanted to come check out my so-called competition."

Carol eyed her cautiously, and took a moment to wipe her hands dry before answering. "I'm not sure what you're getting at. Warned off of what? What did Maggie say?"

Elise got a malicious little smile on her face, and answered, "Oh, just that Daryl was your exclusive property, and that I should watch my ass if I got it in my head to step between the two of you. She even mentioned that you carry a knife with you all the time. Now that I'm looking at you up close, though," she sneered, "I'm not too concerned. Why he would be interested in you when he could have - this?" She spread her hands, inviting Carol to appreciate her obvious assets.

"I think you've misunderstood. Daryl's a good friend," Carol said, guardedly. "He's very reserved, though, and doesn't take easily to people he doesn't know. We all look out for each other, and yes, I tend to be a bit protective of his privacy. I'm sure that's all Maggie meant."

Elise tossed her head irritably. "Well, that's sure not how she made it sound. So you're telling me I've got a clear shot at him? Not that I don't think I could take him off your hands even if there wasn't."

"I'm saying I don't have a claim on him," Carol said, rubbing her aching temples. "He's his own man. If you want to pursue him, I won't be standing in your way. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do." She left the woman standing by the unfinished sink full of dirty dishes and made her way out into the block, as quickly as she could without running, seeking the refuge of her own cell.

Coming in for dinner, Daryl was surprised not to see Carol among the crew preparing the meal. He joined the line and accepted his plate from Mrs. McLeod with a nod of thanks, and found a clear space at a table, scanning the crowd to see if Carol had already taken a seat.

"She's not here," Maggie said, coming alongside him with a pitcher of water. "Beth went to check on her earlier and she's in her cell, got the sheet down. She said she's okay, but I'm not sure. Something's goin' on with her." She set the pitcher down and took the seat next to Daryl. "I might have had something to do with that, actually."

Daryl put his fork down. "What?"

Maggie fidgeted uneasily and said, "Well, I might have suggested to that blonde woman, Elise, that she'd better watch her step if she was thinkin' of makin' a move on you. That Carol wouldn't take too kindly to it. I think she might have gone to have it out with Carol. Not sure what happened, but Carol's been in her cell ever since." Daryl blew out a disgusted sigh, and Maggie winced. "I'm sorry, I know that probably wasn't very smart, but she was makin' me sick, struttin' around and talkin' about how she was gonna rock your world. Would have killed Carol to hear that, and I just wanted to make her shut up. I'm afraid I made it worse, instead of better."

Daryl shoved his untouched plate into the center of the table. "Give that to somebody else, would you? I got someplace to be."

The gathering pain in her head had turned into a full-blown cluster headache, and Carol was grateful she had thought to drop the sheet over the cell door to keep out the stray beams of late-afternoon light. She kept her face turned to the wall and tried to sleep, but between the pain and the stir of her thoughts, drifting off was the last thing she was going to manage.

She could hear the sounds of voices below, gathering for the evening meal. She supposed she should feel a little guilty about having dumped her chores on the rest of them, but she could hardly move without sending a jagged bolt through her head, let alone deal with the clamor of all of those people in a confined space. Someone was jogging up the stairs of the cell tier, and she hoped desperately they would pass by and leave her be. In her case, misery definitely did not love company.

To her dismay, the footsteps stopped immediately outside her cell door, and she burrowed her head further into the pillow.

"Hey," Daryl's voice rasped. "Just came up to see how you were doin'." He stepped hesitantly into her cell and called softly, "Carol? You awake?"

Quite possibly the last person she wanted to see right now, and yet… Carol extended one hand from beneath the covers and waved to let him know she wasn't sleeping.

He crouched next to her bunk. "You okay? Heard you mighta had some trouble earlier."

"Head," Carol mumbled, flapping her hand at him. She wasn't truly so debilitated that she couldn't have at least formed a complete sentence, but one would likely lead to a second, and so forth, and she just couldn't bear the thought of having to confess to Daryl about her encounter with Elise.

"Be right back," he said, and ducked back out into the hall. Carol closed her eyes, knowing the respite was only temporary. In a short time he was back, and Carol felt a cool, damp rag against her forehead. She opened her eyes and found him looking at her with concern. "Ain't like you to hide out in your cell, 'less you're sick. Why didn't you tell someone?"

She took the cloth from him, just to give herself something to do with her hands. "I didn't know how bad it was going to get, and then when Beth came up… I couldn't handle anyone fussing over me."

"Know the feeling," Daryl said, dropping to the floor. "You take anything for the head?"

"Nothing to take," Carol sighed. "Aspirin doesn't do it, even if we had it to spare. It's easing some already. I'll be alright, if you want to take off, go get yourself some dinner."

He shook his head wordlessly. "I'll stay. That way, you need somethin', I'm here."

After a few minutes of silence he cleared his throat and said, "Heard you got into it with that blonde chick. That what started this?"

So much for avoiding things. "No," Carol said flatly. Not that denial was likely to satisfy him.

Daryl snorted. "Don't lie to me. You only get these headache-things when you're upset about somethin'."

"Don't, Daryl," she pleaded. "It's too humiliating."

"Why, 'cause Maggie said you'd gut 'er if she stepped on your claim?" He was enjoying this on some level, Carol realized. She stared at him for a long moment, then pulled the sheet up to cover her head.

Immediately she felt his hand at the edge of the sheet, folding it back away from her face. "I set her straight," Daryl said. "Told her I wasn't available. 'Cause I ain't."

He wasn't talking about Maggie. He meant… "Oh, god, Daryl, what did you say to her?"

"Told her we was workin' things out. That's true, ain't it?" His eyes sought hers, steady and calm, cool blue like a still, deep lake. The pressure in her head suddenly ebbed away to a dull discomfort.

"Yes, I suppose you're right," Carol said, feeling a small smile creep over her face. "I don't suppose you happened to mention to her just how long we've been 'working things out', though?" She slipped a hand out from under the sheet and found his, resting on the edge of her bunk, as though he'd been waiting for her. And maybe he had. Maybe she'd been so intent on not putting any obligation on him, she'd missed something important. "Daryl - earlier today, were you trying to make me jealous?"

He ducked his head with a sheepish grin. "Mighta been. Sort of. Worked, didn't it?" He squeezed her fingers gently. "Kinda liked seein' you get all fired up. Didn't mean to upset you, though."

"I wasn't upset with you. I was upset with… me." The admission made her chest clench with anxiety. "I thought I was being - oh, I don't know, altruistic. That you being happy was more important than you being…" Tongue-tied, Carol looked at Daryl in desperation. "I don't want to see you with someone else, but if that would make you happy, I thought I would be okay with it. And I'm not. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"Yeah," he said, "it is," and he scooted over and raised up on his knees, leaning over her to press a soft kiss against her brow. "So no more tryin' to play matchmaker, okay? I ain't on the market, 'less you tell me different."

Her hand brushed the hair from his forehead, reading the pledge in his eyes. "I promise, Pookie."