Chapter 4: Worry

A/N: Here is a super extra long chapter (and it's even got some fluff!) just for you because I got some wonderful reviews! I'm not exactly sure when I'll end this story, but I'd say it will be around ten chapters? So I'm halfway there now! Review and enjoy!

Daryl snatched Carol's hand up and started pulling her towards the house, glancing over his shoulder to see the walkers flowing onto the farm field.

A shot rang out, and Daryl snapped his vision over to Shane, who had sniped one out. It was an impressive shot, but Daryl wanted to murder him. The walkers had smelled the living, they hadn't known they were there! Shane had just sent out a beacon to the herd.

"Shane! Dammit!" Rick tackled Shane, wrestling the gun off him. Another shot went off into the air.

Daryl looked at the herd on the edges of the property once more. They had started to run towards them. Carol's grip on his hand tightened to the point where he couldn't feel his fingers, but he didn't let go. Daryl wanted her close, he didn't know what she'd do if walkers came near her.

They reached the house, where Lori was slamming her fist against the door, waiting for someone to unlock it. Maggie's face appeared quickly, frightened.

"Walkers, walkers are coming!" Lori cried, "We need in the house."

Maggie swung the door open. "Where's Glenn? Where is Glenn!" Her voice reached almost a scream, and Daryl suddenly realized that she cared more for the asian than she would like to admit. Her skin was white as snow, and Daryl scanned the area, seeing Glenn back at the camp, walkers getting too close for comfort. Glenn was grabbing things, moving hastily and glancing from the house to the walkers every chance he got.

"Dammit," Daryl snarled, "Watch her." He thrust Carol towards Maggie, and took off running towards the camp. He had his knife out and ready to use. He heard Carol yell after him, but he didn't look back.

He reached Glenn just before the walkers. "Move your ass!" He yelled, grabbing the man by the arm. Glenn pushed a bag into his hands, surprising Daryl. He snatched another off the ground.

"Run!" Glenn started running, Daryl following hastily. He could hear the walkers moaning, barely footsteps behind them.

"Maggie! Open the door! Open the door and get ready to shut it!" Glenn was screaming, staring at the farmhouse door. It swung wide, Maggie standing with a baseball bat, tears streaking down her face. They roared into the farmhouse and Maggie slammed the door in the face of walkers, bolting it tight.

Herschel was nowhere to be seen, and Maggie collapsed against the door in sobs. Daryl turned angrily to Glenn, who was sprawled out where he had tumbled upon entrance. He scrambled to his feet, looking towards Daryl's scowl and Maggie's form. It was clear he wanted to go to her, pull her away from the door.

"What the hell was so damn important you nearly got yourself killed?" Daryl asked furiously.

"Food." Glenn answered, "We needed all the food, cause these walkers aren't gonna leave. We won't be able to get to the fields."

Daryl looked down at his bag, where all the squirrel he had caught was sitting. There was also some vegetables, and a few apples. The damn asian was right, these walkers weren't going to give up until they found some better prey. Glenn pushed past him, knowing he was satisfied with his reason, and kneeled beside Maggie. She immediately threw herself into his arms, and he had the most curious mixture of emotions on his face: happiness, shock, fear, embarrassment, sadness.

Daryl spun on his heel, letting the bag of food drop on the floor. Carol was nowhere in sight. "Fuck! Where the hell is she?" He growled, turning to Maggie. She looked up at him, her eyes red.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." She whispered, "I tried to stop her, I did. She was afraid for the horses."

Daryl wanted to shoot her, and she saw the murderous intentions in his eyes. "How'd she get out?"

"The back door. It's shut and locked now." Maggie told him.

He marched up to her and squatted down beside the couple, Glenn shielding Maggie from Daryl's wrath. Daryl was seething.

"If she's hurt, or bit, or dead," Daryl snarled, "you'd best pray the walkers get me." He stood up, grabbing a gun from the table where Rick and Shane stood. He stared at them hard.

"You aren't gonna object to me havin a gun?" Daryl said, his voice deadly.

Shane rolled his eyes, "Fuck you, Daryl."

Daryl pulled the safety and aimed the muzzle straight at Shane. Everyone went still. "Hmm, might not jam. What d'ya think, Shane? Should we test it?"

Shane stared at him, sweat beading on his forehead. "You're an evil sonofabitch."

Daryl shrugged, "Yeah, I'm real heartless, goin out there to try and save a woman you all let walk off. She lost her daughter, and you all think, damn, why not let her go off unarmed into the walker herd! Bunch of fucking retards."

"Daryl, the chances of her being alive right now are... not very good." Rick said softly, trailing off. Daryl eyed him, but didn't say a word. He was running out of time. He walked away, leaving everyone staring after him. The back door was locked up, and Daryl didn't see any walkers around that side of the house just yet. He could get out, but he'd probably have trouble getting back in.

Why the hell had Herschel built his stables so far away? Daryl marched his way upstairs, reaching a bedroom that had a big window over a section of the roof. He unlocked it and opened it all the way. Always good to have a second entrance ready, just in case the back door was surrounded.

He returned downstairs and unlocked the door, the click of the bolt deafening in the quiet room.

"What are you doing?" Carl's young voice asked him. Daryl saw him standing in the doorway, staring at the gun in Daryl's hand.

"I'm goin' to get Carol." Daryl muttered, "Carl, could you lock this as soon as I leave?"

He nodded and came closer. "Daryl, you're gonna bring her back safe, right?"

Daryl stared down at the boy, recalling the kind words he had said at the funeral. The boy was old before his time, old and wise and so, so sad. Daryl brought his hand up and ruffled his hair, the way he had seen Carol do a million times.

"I'm gonna do my best." He told him sincerely. "Now remember, lock this door up."

Carl smiled at him shakily, tears blooming in his eyes. "Good luck."

Daryl slipped out the door, onto the porch. He uncocked his gun and put it into the back of his pants, pulling his crossbow into his hands. The gun was good for many targets, but the crossbow was silent, and Daryl was better with it. He scanned the area, seeing no walkers yet, but hearing the porch creaking. They would find their way around the house quickly enough, and Daryl had no time.

He took off swiftly towards the horse barn, keeping as low as he could. He glanced back a few times, and so far he hadn't gotten any attention. He reached the barn and pushed on the door. It was blocked.

"Carol." He called, soft as he could. He was pressed against the door, trying not to make any movements. The walkers were on the porch. "Carol, open the door."

Daryl didn't move, resting against the door. Nothing happened, and he needed the door to open, or he was trapped outside with no cover. Abruptly, he heard a creak, and the doors flew open, letting him stumble inside. It was surprisingly dark in the stable, and as soon as the door was shut again it got even darker.

Carol turned to him, staring at him as though he was a ghost. "Why are you here, Daryl? Why? You're going to get yourself killed!"

Daryl snatched her arm, checking her for bites. "I'm savin' your sorry ass." He muttered as he worked.

She pulled her arm away, "I haven't been bitten." Her voice was bitter, and Daryl knew he had touched a nerve,

"Naw, you ain't bit, but you're lookin' for a way out all the same." She wanted to do bitter? Daryl could do that.

Carol's mouth dropped, "What exactly are you implying, Daryl Dixon?"

"You're tryin' to get yourself killed!" He hissed at her, accusing and a bit hurt at her actions.

Carol's eyes softened, despite his anger, and she marched forward and hugged him. Daryl froze, unsure what to do with the woman now within his grasp. She was crying again, he realized, and her arms were locked around his torso.

"Oh, Daryl. You big idiot." Her voice was soft, "I wasn't trying to kill myself. I was trying to save the horses. I don't want to die."

He glanced around, seeing all the empty stalls. She must have let them go. "You don't?" He murmured.

She shook her head, nestled in his neck. "No, I mean, sometimes, when I think of her, I wish it had been me. But I'm not ready to die yet. Somebody has to take care of you."

Daryl put his hands on her shoulders, pulling her away. "You think this is takin' care of me? I almost had a heart attack. Nearly killed Maggie, and even aimed a gun at Shane. He asked for it though." Daryl added the last sentence as an afterthought, still angry at the cop.

Carol frowned, "I'm sorry for making you worry. I didn't think you'd come after me. The stable is sturdy anyway, I was just going to wait it out here. I brought a couple of cans of food from Herschel's cupboard."

Daryl stared at her. It had never occurred to him that she had had a plan coming in here. He had only thought of the worse possible scenario.

He shook his head, "Only you would care enough to save the damn horses." Fool woman, risking her life for a couple of animals. Would she sacrifice so easily for anyone? "I thought you were dead, and you're off bein' animal rescue. God damn."

Carol huffed out a breath, "I'm not dead, and I'm not planning to die, Daryl." Her voice was soft, "You don't have to worry about me."

"But I do!" He snarled, glaring at her. "It's all I do, worry and wish I had been good enough to save Sophia. I'm like a damn woman, worrying and hovering over you. Fuck!"

He set his crossbow on the ground, pacing back and forth. He hadn't meant to say anything about it, but his temper had gotten the best of him, as usual. Carol interrupted his pacing, watching him with midnight eyes that saw way too much. She set her hand on his chest, over his racing heart.

"Daryl, Sophia's death was not your fault." She said, her voice more determined than it had been in weeks. "I do not blame you for anything. And while I admit I'm glad you worry about me, you don't need to."

Daryl rolled his eyes, "Why in the hell would me worryin' 'bout you make you happy?"

She gave him a half smile. "Cause I worry about you all the time, seems fair you do the same for me."

"Worry about me?" He scoffed, "I can take care of myself."

"Don't I know it. You may be the toughest, angriest, stubbornest, most wonderful man on the planet." She murmured, her words almost too soft to hear. She had intended it that way, Daryl realized. She didn't mean for him to hear her, probably because she knew her words would make him angry. He hated any type of compliment, and even though her words pleased him, he'd rather not think about them too much.

"What are you mutterin' 'bout?" He scowled, pretending he hadn't heard her.

She shrugged, "Nothing. Come on, they're gonna start surrounding the stables soon, we should go up the loft a bit. There's only some riding equipment up there and a few bags of oats."

Daryl shrugged and picked up his crossbow, letting her lead the way up the ladder. He watched her climb onto the platform, letting his eyes linger a little too long on her form. He shook himself, willing himself to forget the fact that he had just stared at Carol's ass.

The platform of the loft was dusty and had equipment scattered around. It smelled strongly of saddle polish, which Daryl figured would work in their favor if the walkers came to the stable. As long as they stayed quiet, they might get left alone.

"Walkers probably won't smell us. We keep quiet we'll be okay." He told Carol, laying his crossbow and gun near the wall. He always kept his knife on him, but he didn't exactly want to rest with a gun stabbing into his back.

Carol was pulling the bags of oats around, and grabbing a few old horse blankets. "Makeshift bed. Might as well rest up." She pulled a few cans of food from a little bag she must have set up here.

"You go 'head, I'll watch." Daryl muttered.

Carol leaned over and pulled on the toe of his boot. "We'll hear them if they get in, just come lay down."

She left him alone, laying down and pulling a blanket over herself. Daryl wondered how she always managed to say and do things that infuriated him, and yet she did them in a way that gave him enough space to calm down. She was always pushing, but she gave him room to think, and usually her soft voice made him hesitant to yell at her. She never raised her voice, and Daryl felt like a tyrant whenever he yelled at her. Like Ed.

He grimaced in the darkness of the barn, despising himself for that thought. Daryl hated Ed, had done so since the day when Shane had punched his lights out in the old camp. He didn't like men that hurt women, which was surprising, since he was Merle's brother, and Merle had landed himself in prison on more than one occasion for battery.

Daryl was like Ed in more ways than he could count, and every similarity he found made him angrier at himself.

"Daryl." Carol's sleepy voice startled him.

"What?" He snapped.

She sighed, "You're not exactly keeping watch if you're glaring holes in the stable walls."

He tugged off his boots, laying himself down on the blankets, as far from Carol as he could get. He could still feel her body heat.

"You wanna talk about it?" She asked, facing away from him.

"No." He said shortly, "When we wake you gotta eat something, you're too skinny."

She laughed softly, the first time he had heard her do so in what seemed like forever. Maybe the first time he had ever heard her laugh. It was a beautiful laugh, and too short lived. Daryl wondered if he'd ever hear her laugh so hard she cried, or do the silent laugh where she gasped for air. He wondered if she'd ever had those experiences.

"Now that's something I've never heard before," she mused, "don't think I've ever been called skinny before. Takes the end of the damn world before I'm the perfect size."

Daryl grimaced, "Did Ed tell you that? That you weren't perfect?"

Carol went still, and her voice was sad. "Of course."

"Well, he was a dumbass." Daryl said brusquely. "And he was wrong. Now go to sleep."

He rolled away from her, his heart thumping madly against his ribcage. Jesus, did he just tell her she was perfect, in an inadvertent, ass backwards sort of way? Daryl swallowed hard, wishing he could take all his words back. It wasn't that he didn't think Carol was perfect -he did!- he just didn't exactly want her to know he thought that. But she was perfect: she was beautiful, smart, and kind.

Her hand touched his back, and he nearly jumped out of his skin in surprise. He hadn't even heard her move, and now her hand brushed across his back gently. Daryl was surprised he missed her touch as soon as she removed it. Generally, he didn't like anyone near his back.

"Can I ask you a question?" She whispered, her voice sounding almost frightened.

"Yep." He answered.

"It's going to make you mad." she sighed, "Your brother, Merle. You are so... different from him. He was like... well, like Ed. And you aren't." Her voice was hesitant, and Daryl knew it was because everyone who brought up Merle usually got their faces smashed in, or at least a stinging insult thrown at them.

Daryl didn't speak for a long moment, "Merle and Ed probably woulda gotten along too well. Merle was... troubled."

"No," Carol said, "sometimes I think you're troubled, when we talk about our families, or what we miss from our old lives. Merle was more than troubled."

Daryl scowled, "Yeah, he was an asshole, you happy now?"

It was silent in the stables, for an eternal moment, and Daryl felt bad he had gotten so short with her. Her hand returned to his back though, brushing gently.

"No," she finally murmured, "it doesn't make me happy that he was an asshole. It doesn't make me happy that you lost him. Despite the fact that he probably hurt you, you miss him, more than you should."

"You don't know what you're talkin' 'bout." Daryl drawled softly, amazed at how easily she had seen through him.

"Yes, I do. I know exactly what I'm talking about." She told him, and Daryl recalled how easily they had compared Ed and Merle. "But sometimes you have to do what you want, not what they want. And sometimes you have to move on and figure out yourself."

Daryl scoffed, tempted to turn to face her, but he didn't want her to stop rubbing his back. "Yeah, how's all your yuppy soul searchin' goin' so far?"

He heard her move this time, and he tensed all over when her hand slid over his side and came to rest on his stomach. She pressed her front to his back and held him to her, face resting on his shoulder blades.

"It's good, Daryl." She muttered, "It's going really good."