Chapter 7

"Sophia!" Carol exclaimed from the doorway as she glanced at the bed and then at her daughter who was standing by the window. "Honey, you shouldn't be up."

"I feel better, Mama," Sophia insisted.

"That might be, but you should rest. You could break your stitches, or…"

"She's alright," Hershel assured Carol, coming up behind her. "I told her getting out of bed for a little bit might do her some good. I should have told you first, but don't worry. Sophia's healing just fine, and she's getting stronger every day." Carol breathed a sigh of relief at that, and she tried to calm her racing heart. No matter how much Sophia grew or how old she got, she was always going to be that helpless little baby she'd brought home from the hospital.

"She's really alright?" Carol asked softly, placing her hand on her daughter's shoulder.

"No infection, the stitches are holding. She's getting stronger every day. Another week or two, she'll be good as new." Sophia grinned up at her mother when she heard the older man's words. Carol blinked back a few tears and grinned down at her daughter. If the girl was hurting in any way, she wasn't letting on. That was one thing about Sophia. She'd never shown her pain that much, if she'd felt it. When she was five, she'd sprained her ankle in such a way she'd had to wear it wrapped for almost a week. Still, she'd insisted on running and playing and riding her bike like nothing had happened. She was a fighter from the beginning, and she'd had to be strong living in that house.

"Well, I'll let you rest then. Want me to bring you anything?"

"Beth let me borrow a book," Sophia said with a shake of her head. She lifted it up off the nightstand and handed it to her mother. Carol smiled down at the book. The Adventures of Tom Sawyer.

"Ah, this was one of my favorites," she said with a little smile.

"I haven't started reading it yet," Sophia replied, moving back to get in the bed. Carol pulled the blankets up to her middle.

"Well, how about we read it together? I haven't read to you since you were little enough to sit in my lap."

"Ok," Sophia said with a smile. Carol sat down at Sophia's side and opened the old book. It was an old library copy, and it had that old, book smell that Carol loved so much. And she began to read and continued until Sophia began to tire, and when the girl was sleeping, she left the book open at her bedside and silently slipped out to find Hershel in hall bathroom cleaning the few medical instruments he had.

"She sleeping again?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"That's normal. It's better if she rests as much as she can, but getting up and moving around is good for her, keeps her muscles strong, keeps her active."

"I just wanted to ask you," Carol began, "your medicines, everything you've used to help Sophia…it's a lot for one person. Why?"

"It is a lot," Hershel agreed with a nod.

"But you helped her, no questions asked," Carol murmured.

"Because I could help her. Believe me, it wasn't long ago when I was…very confused about the world. I thought those things out there just needed help, just needed medicine. My wife—Beth's mama—fell sick, and I tried like hell to save her life. And she slipped away, woke up and came after me. I kept her in there, did everything I could to try to help her, but she just…wasn't my wife anymore. One morning, she got out, and Beth...she nearly got Beth." Carol swallowed the lump in her throat, and she shivered. "The point is, I wasted precious medicine and prayer and time on something that…that was just a dream. My wife was gone the minute she was bit." He shook his head. "I put her down myself, out in the pasture, and I promised myself that I would focus whatever time I had left in keeping my family safe. Then your little girl comes along, shot, and I knew she was brought here for a reason."

"Daryl brought her here."

"Well, yes, that too," Hershel chuckled. "She's important. The world isn't over. It can't be. And if we can even think of making a life on this planet, we're going to need her. We're going to need Carl. We're going to need Beth. They're the future. They're our legacy from what the world used to be." Carol felt the lump grow in her throat, and smiled through the tears that sparkled in her eyes.

The heavy sound of boots on the stairs distracted her then, and she turned to see Daryl standing there watching her with a pack slung over his shoulder.

"How's she doin'?" he asked. Carol glanced toward the door and nodded with a smile on her face.

"She's better. She's resting."

"Good," he said with a little nod. He bit at his bottom lip for a second before he took a step up. "You ready?"

"Ready?"

"To go shootin'?"

"Now?" Carol asked.

"Sure. Good a time as any," he said with a shrug. Carol glanced at Hershel who had turned his attention back to cleaning his instruments, and she gave Daryl a little nod.

"Ok. Sounds good."

"A'right. I'll go get the helmet, and…"

"Wait. Helmet?"

"Yeah. We're takin' the bike." With that, he turned, and Carol felt an exhilarating flutter in her stomach at the idea of getting on the back of the motorcycle with Daryl. But she didn't have time to protest, as he was already on the way out the front door.

...

Carol stood by as Daryl stuffed a box of ammo into one of the side bags on the motorcycle. She watched the way he quickly checked the chambers on both guns before loading each of them up and stuffing them in the bag along with the ammo. He was good, and she knew she'd made the right choice in a teacher. Besides, this was going to give them more time to get to know one another, and of everyone in the group, he was the one she looked to, and she really wanted to know him better.

"You ready?" Daryl asked, passing the helmet over to Carol. She anxiously gripped the helmet and nodded, and he smirked.

"You ain't never rode before?"

"No. Never," she admitted.

"First time for everything," he said with a nod. "Guess you're gonna learn more'n guns today." She felt a shiver go up her spine in that moment when his steely blue gaze floated across hers and locked on it for a moment. She felt her heart skip a beat in her chest. "You ok?"

"Fine. Good," she promised. "I'm ready." Just as he was moving to sit down, someone whistled sharply, and Carol looked over to see Shane and Rick heading that way. Carol tensed, and Daryl glanced at her in that moment. She didn't notice him noticing her, as her gaze was fixed right on Shane's face.

"Daryl?" Shane asked.

"Got a problem?"

"Maybe, maybe not," Shane said. "How much ammo you taking?"

"Enough," Daryl replied gruffly. "Last I checked, ammo belongs to the group, not to you. I talked to Dale."

"Yeah, Dale," Shane snorted. "Figures. Look, I ain't sure this is the best time for this, man. We gotta save what ammo we got, you know?" He glanced at Carol, and she narrowed her eyes at him, cocking her head to the side a little.

"He's teaching me to shoot, not popping off rounds for the hell of it," she spoke up, getting an eyebrow raise out of Rick.

"Look, I ain't saying…"

"What do you want, Shane? Skilled shooters or dead weight you have to pick up the slack for?" Her tone was cutting, and she knew he knew exactly what she was talking about in that moment. Everything from his expression to his posture changed, and he ran his hand over the back of his head briefly.

"You just be careful out there," Shane replied quietly, turning on his heels and heading off in that half-cocked manner. Rick glanced over his shoulder at Shane and then back at Carol, and he turned his attention back to Daryl.

"You should take her out a ways. A few miles, at least. There's gotta be a few empty pastures you can take her shooting. Take her off where you can draw the sound away from here. Don't want a whole herd of those things coming at us."

"I got it," Daryl said with a nod, adjusting the strap of his crossbow over his shoulder.

"Ain't that I don't think you can teach her, but Shane's a certified instructor. Was."

"I trust Daryl," Carol replied. Daryl glanced at her for a moment before looking back at Rick.

"Alright," Rick said with a nod. "Try to be back before dark. Don't wanna send a search party after you." As he walked away, Carol heard Daryl snort, but if he was thinking of anything to say in rebuttal, he kept it to himself.

"You ready?" he asked.

"I think so," Carol replied, nervously eyeing him and then the bike. Daryl smirked and lowered himself onto the bike before nodding toward the helmet. "What about you?"

"M'good. Ain't gonna have you behind me without one of them on."

"Well, what's gonna protect me when you wreck, split your head open and I'm left stranded with broken legs and walkers coming after me?" Daryl eyed her, not sure how to take the dark comment, and when she grinned, he smirked and shook his head.

"Hop on," he said. She popped the helmet on and tightened the strap, and then she was sliding onto the bike behind him. He felt her hands at his sides, and he almost jumped out of his skin. He hadn't expected her touch to feel so damned good. She was warm behind him, and she was pressed against him so close, and he could feel the heat from between her legs against his ass as he started the engine and the bike rumbled to life. Christ, this was going to be a long few miles. "You hold on."

Her arms moved around his waist, and he felt her hands against his stomach, and he hoped she couldn't feel the way his breathing stuttered for just a moment. If she had noticed, she didn't let on, and he was grateful. He cast a glance back at the house briefly to see Rick watching with a pissed-off Shane at his side. He thought about asking Carol what that was all about, but he decided against it, and he took off down the gravel road toward the highway.

...

She was a natural. He'd taken her out a few miles to the pasture of a farm with the name Davis on the mailbox. Sure, her aim was off at first, but that was expected. But the second that gun was in her hand, and with a little direction from him, she was holding it like her hand was made for that gun.

"You think you're gettin' the hang of it?" he asked, stepping up behind her with his gun at his side. He hadn't used it yet. He was saving the bullets in case they ran into trouble or she decided she needed more practice.

"I think so," she said, shielding her eyes from the sun. "But sometimes, I feel like I'm going to fall over or fall backward or something."

"Gotta get your footing right," he said with a nod. He stepped toward her but stopped.

"What?"

"Uh…I kinda gotta…well, here. Just stand like I'm standin'." His feet were firm on the ground, spaced appropriately apart to give him a good balance. He aimed his gun, moving his body accordingly to keep the gun straight.

"Like this?" she asked, mimicking his posture. He grinned a little. "What?"

"Nothin'. You just look like a badass."

"Oh, sure," she smirked. "That's me, alright."

"Hey, you gotta give yourself credit. You made it this far, ain't ya?"

"With help," Carol said quietly. "I don't want to have to depend on someone to protect me. I depended on Ed, and look how far that got us." She shook her head. "I don't want to be a burden."

"You ain't," Daryl replied.

"I am," she replied. "I cook, I do the laundry, and I take care of my girl, but I can't protect anybody. I couldn't even protect her." Daryl felt the weight of her words, and he nodded. "I don't want to be a burden anymore."

"Alright," he said quietly.

"Now, this is right?" she asked, indicating her posture. Daryl chewed his lip and moved around behind her, watching the way she stood firmly on the ground, back straight, a little stiff, and he couldn't help but take a peek at her ass and the way her khaki cargo pants clung to her body like they were made just for her.

"Looks good," he said without thinking. She looked over her shoulder, a pink tinge to her cheeks. "Uh, but you're a little stiff. Gotta relax. Gotta let your body move. Stand there stiff as a board, and you're gonna fall over." Spread your legs. Carol smirked, and Daryl ignored her. "Face forward." She did as she was told. "You can bend your knees a little. Don't lock 'em up. Good. That's good." He cleared his throat and stepped closer to her. "M'gonna put my arms around ya now. That ok?"

"Thought you'd never ask," she teased.

"Stop," he muttered. Carol chuckled then, but her laughter was short lived when she felt his calloused hands on her forearms, moving up to her wrists. His fingers brushed over her wrists, and she could feel the heat of his breath against her shoulder as he pressed into her. She trembled but tried to keep her focus, eyeing up a tin can Daryl had set up on a fence post for target practice. "You feel that?"

"Feel…what exactly?" she asked, as her heart raced in her chest. She heard his breath catch for a moment, and she smiled.

"The way you're standin', how relaxed ya are? Don't tense up." Easier said than done, she thought, as she felt the scrape of his stubble against her shoulder. She nodded. "Now breathe and squeeze the trigger." Carol took in a deep breath and let it out slowly before squeezing the trigger. The satisfying ting of the bullet obliterating the tin can and sending it flying off the fence post run in her ears, and she let out a little laugh when Daryl let go of her. "Good. You got this." Carol let out a breath of relief as a triumphant smile crossed her face.

"Yeah," she murmured. "I do."