AN: Thank you for your reviews! I'm glad you are liking our characters. I've made a few minor corrections after my husband pointed out to me that they have a Suburban, not a Bronco. Silly me! This chapter was a bit awkward and difficult to get out. I started and stopped and deleted and rewrote it, so please let me know what you think. I do hope to take this through S4 and have written some drafts of the later chapters. I hope you will stay with me!

Chapter 7: Doubt

The clouds gathered low in the sky in leaden clusters, echoing the gloom that had settled into those who returned from the run. Rick tried to hide his worry by telling everyone that they would still proceed with target practice that afternoon. However, the tension still remained in his eyes and his voice was clipped as he spoke. No one protested.

Carol hadn't understood the reason for the solemnity as it seemed that the run had been a success. As far as she knew, the run had gone fine logistically as they had all returned safely. Among other supplies, they had come back with a few guns and some ammunition.

Then Glenn explained how much of an arduous undertaking it had been for what they were able to acquire. Rick had been hoping to find more ammunition. They needed more. This was made evident on the way back to camp, when they had run into another herd of about sixty walkers and needed to take a detour.

"It was like when cattle is put out to pasture," Maggie reported. "They were all blockin' the road."

"They are definitely migrating," Glenn piped in. "Traveling in packs."

"They're huntin'," Daryl agreed.

The group got quiet as they all contemplated what that might mean for them.

Trying to lighten the mood, Rick turned to Carl. "Did you listen to your mother?"

Carl smiled awkwardly. "Yeah. Kinda."

Daryl snorted. Sounds about right. The kid had been trying to be on his best behavior since Rick started giving him more responsibility. But Carl was not above testing his limits.

Rick gave Carl a playfully stern look and tried to hide his smile. "You kinda did? Or you kinda didn't?"

Carl blushed and looked at his mother uncertainly.

"He kinda did this time," she said as she smiled approvingly and placed a kiss on the top of his head.

Feeling proud of his son, Rick almost smiled at Lori, but something interfered with his ability to make the connection. His eyes grew distant and he returned his attention to the group. Lori felt slighted, casting her eyes down in defeat.

It was T-Dog that broke the news as he was informing Rick about how his patrol had gone.

"Another walker stumbled into camp while you were gone. Down by the creek. Carol took it."

All eyes looked in Carol's direction. Her face turned red, and she folded into herself slightly.

"Oh my god, Carol," said Lori, giving her a concerned look.

"I'm fine," Carol insisted indignantly when she realized they had their misgivings. "I know you're all surprised. But I'm fine."

Daryl had felt a surge of pride with Carol's assertion. He gave her a half-smile and a respectful nod of recognition. But then he remembered he was cross with her, she was the source of his frustration, so he quickly looked away and tried not to notice that sparkle in her eyes reflecting his esteem. He needed to avoid her for a while. Thinking about her had been a liability today; it was what nearly got him killed. Maybe it was all that extra time he had been spending with her teaching her how to fight. But he couldn't exactly stop doing that. His head started to throb as he thought about his dilemma. He had to get away as soon as possible.

Maggie put her hand on Carol's shoulder in support and gave her a smile. Rick looked at Carol doubtfully, but then gave her a terse nod of acceptance. His eyes filled with trepidation as he glanced at Lori.

"We can't stay here too much longer," Rick declared, addressing the group. "The rain will be here soon. The ice. It will make travelling more dangerous. Especially by motorcycle."

Rick looked at Daryl uneasily.

"Pftt. I've ridden through worse," Daryl asserted, folding his arms across his chest, not sure what Rick was implying.

"I don't doubt that," Rick explained. "But we need to look out for each other. The ice and rain aren't the only threats anymore. We need to find shelter for the winter and keep an eye out for those herds. Start tracking them. There may be more like them. We need to be prepared. All of us."

Carol's confidence had improved greatly, so when Rick suggested that she pick up a gun and finally learn to use it, she didn't shy away from it. After the truck was unloaded, Carol went with Rick, Carl, and Beth out to the field for target practice.

Rick paused as he handed her a shotgun. "Are you sure you're up for this, Carol?"

She didn't like the tone of his voice, his hesitation, but she nodded and smiled sweetly. "I'm sure," she said, accepting the gun.

She was ready to learn. Carol hadn't really been present the last time he'd held target practice. She had been too preoccupied with Sophia's disappearance to follow anything Rick or Shane had said. But she had also been so convinced that she wouldn't be of much use, she didn't even bother to try. Ed had always told her she was lousy at everything she did, and of course, he had said it so often, she believed him.

But lately, Carol was starting to realize that she wasn't incapable; she was simply inexperienced. And she was hungry for knowledge to help her rectify this. She listened eagerly as Rick instructed her at length on the finer points of gun safety and then showed her how to load and aim the shotgun. But while Carol wanted to learn how to shoot, she didn't much care for Rick's pedantic style of instruction. At times, he seemed almost condescending to Carol and talked to her like she was a child. She found herself wishing Daryl were present. He always treated her like an equal, even though she was pretty new to fighting. It was quite remarkable how he challenged her instead of assuming she was inept. Carol supposed that since Rick had taken it upon himself to be their leader, perhaps he felt the need to adopt a fatherly approach out of a sense of responsibility. For whatever reason, it seemed to zap the confidence from her as the afternoon wore on.

The first time she shot at the tin can, she missed it completely. She thought she had followed Rick's instructions exactly. She squared herself off to the target, refocused her aim, and pulled the trigger once more, but failed to hit the target again. The harder she tried to concentrate, the worse her aim had been. Frustrated with herself, she was close to giving up. But she didn't. She knew Daryl would be angry with her if she did.

Instead, her mind wandered. She wondered what was going on with Daryl. Upon his return, he had seemed more aloof than usual. Carol thought he might have said something to her about the walker that she'd killed. He had given her the impression that he'd approved, but then Daryl had barely spoken to her after they unloaded the Suburban. With a sober expression, he had thrust a down sleeping bag into her arms and curtly told her, "Stay warm." Then, he had disappeared into the woods with his crossbow slung across his shoulder.

Returning her attention to the task at hand, Carol wished she felt as comfortable shooting the gun as she did holding the knife. The gun was loud and unwieldy. She was feeling incompetent, and the recoil didn't help. The jolt was a constant reminder that she was failing a big test. She could feel Rick's disapproving eyes on her. She knew he didn't believe she could handle it and she was proving him right. She was annoyed.

To her relief, the weather quickly changed. The wind began to increase as the sky darkened, threatening to storm. The smell of ozone hung densely in the air as the electrostatic tension accumulated around them.

"Looks like rain," said Rick, announcing the obvious. "This wind isn't helping any. We should head back."

Carol sighed as she handed the gun back to Rick.

"Keep trying. You'll hit the target eventually," he encouraged her with a sympathetic smile.

The wind was blowing fiercely when they returned to the storage units. The group that stayed behind had been busy preparing the camp for the incoming rain. Glenn and Maggie had put up giant tarps between the rooftops of the storage buildings. They built a fire circle on the cement underneath the tarps and were boiling water to reconstitute those freeze-dried meals they had picked up on the run. But they hadn't needed to because Daryl triumphantly appeared dragging the field-dressed carcass of a yearling buck.

They had just finished the venison that Carol had cooked when the thunder boomed overhead. When the storm finally broke, it was bucketing. Everyone retreated to the refuge of their units. No one was left on watch because visibility was so low. And it was freezing cold.

As the thunder rumbled and roared overhead, Carol shimmied herself into the sleeping bag Daryl had brought her, feeling eternally grateful for his thoughtfulness as she pulled the hood over her head.

T-Dog laughed when he saw her. "Now that's just adorable. You look like a mummy."

She giggled. "At least I'm a warm mummy."

"Cozy, huh? Well, aren't you a special one," he teased. "He bring enough to share?"

Carol gave T-Dog a confused look. "You didn't get anything from the run? I'm sure Rick will-"

"That ain't who I was talkin' 'bout," T-Dog interrupted her.

"Daryl?"

He gave her a confirmative nod. "Very thoughtful of our lonely hunter."

She nodded her head, looking down at the sleeping bag in appreciation as she snuggled deeper into its warmth. "Yes," she agreed. "Daryl is very thoughtful."

"Mmm hmm. He's so damn considerate of all of us," T-Dog stated sarcastically.

"He's trying. And, well, um, he kind of knew I get cold at night."

He raised his brow. "Oh?"

"Uh, we- we've talked about it," Carol clarified nervously. She wasn't sure she should share the details of their awkward conversation and how uncomfortable it had made Daryl.

"You've talked about it. I see," T responded. His face held only a hint of a smile. "So he just happened to be thinking about you while he was out."

Carol nodded, unaware of what T-Dog was insinuating.

He shook his head at her cluelessness. "Shit, what's a brother gotta do to get some kindness up around here?"

"You know, if there's something you need you can just make a list," Carol kindly reminded him.

Another thunderclap echoed loudly, rattling the doors of the units, effectively breaking off the conversation. Carol didn't think she could sleep with all the noise. A line of worry appeared in her brow as she recalled how afraid Sophia had been of thunderstorms as a young child. Her sorrow and guilt churned in her stomach as the storm raged. She could taste the bile as it bubbled up into her throat. Sinking down into the sleeping bag, she closed her eyes, but all she could see was that tin can sitting on the fence, taunting her.

"That's some storm out there," T-Dog commented on the clamoring, pulling her from her thoughts.

Carol looked over at him and nodded in agreement. She was glad for the company.

"When we were kids, my sisters used to be so afraid of thunderstorms they would hide under the sheets," he said, initially amused by the memory, but his eyes grew sad and distant as it sat in his mind.

"Sophia, too," Carol replied, smiling sympathetically at their similar recollection. It helped to be reminded that she wasn't alone in her grief; others were making peace with their losses, too.

He shook his head after a brief moment of silence as if to shake out the grief that had collected there. Turning to Carol, he tilted his head and smiled. "How does that help, exactly? I've always wondered that. I mean, it's not like it really makes it any less noisy."

"No, it doesn't. God," Carol chuckled before continuing, "what I wouldn't do for a pair of ear plugs right now!"

"Oh, those are definitely goin' on the list if I have to suffer another night listenin' to Hershel snore. I swear that man saws logs with a chainsaw when he sleeps!"

Neither could control the laughter that burst forth from their lips. And it really was the best medicine Carol knew.

"Since it appears we're not going to get any sleep for now, do you want to play that game of Rummy?" she asked him, sitting up and pulling out the deck of cards.

"As long as you don't cheat," he snickered.

Daryl was feeling cold and miserable, trapped inside the small concrete room, while the sound of the rainfall beat heavily against the roof. He tried to sleep, but every time he nodded off, the din of the thunder and the clattering door awoke him. Feeling resigned, he sat up and turned on the lantern. First, he sharpened all his knives. After he was done sharpening his knives, he cleaned his crossbow. When it was well oiled, he looked through his bag for something else to do. He inspected all the arrows in his quiver. Most of them were brand new. There was nothing wrong with any of them. Restless, his eyes darted around the room. It seemed to Daryl that the walls had moved a little closer together. He started pacing. He didn't know what to do with himself.

Unable to tolerate another moment inside, he opened the door and went out to inspect the tarps. They were still in place and allowing the water to fall off on one side. Stirring the coals in the fire, he added a log and checked on the progress of the jerky.

Daryl heard laughter coming from Carol and T-Dog's room. He wondered what was so entertaining about being trapped in a concrete block. Before his mind had a chance to conjure up any ideas, Rick came out of his unit and joined Daryl by the fire. Daryl actually felt relieved to have the company.

Rick sat quietly for a few minutes collecting his thoughts. "We need to find another truck," he said after a while, still staring into the fire. "Something sturdy to keep supplies in. Maybe even carry the bike if necessary. " He turned to look at Daryl. "Listen, I know how much it means to you, but a lot can happen in weather like this. I appreciate everything you do for us. You're important to this group, Daryl. We need you to be safe."

The praise and caring for his well-being still felt awkward to Daryl, but he knew Rick was being sincere. "Shit, reckon I ain't gonna mind stayin' dry," he admitted shyly.

Rick smiled a little in relief that Daryl was being reasonable. "Didn't think you would."

"I can go for the truck when this lets up," he said, referring the downpour. "I'll take Carol."

Her name had escaped his lips before he realized what he was proposing. Daryl's stomach started twisting in knots. He was impressed that Carol had handled herself, on her own no less, with the single walker she encountered near the creek. And he wanted to see her in action to see how well she'd handle the stress of other conditions. It was a simple enough run. It would be good for her. But he had just spent the entire afternoon in the woods trying not to think about her, and in two seconds, the frustration he felt about his entire day came flooding back. He held back the groan that nearly sprang from his throat and chewed at the inside of his lip as he wrestled with his ambivalence.

Rick tilted his head in surprise. "You think she's ready?" The doubt squeezed into the space between his eyebrows. "I don't know," he said, shaking his head. "She couldn't shoot a non-moving target today."

"She's ready," Daryl shot out defensively. He thought that Rick was underestimating her and it rubbed him the wrong way. Guns were only a last resort anyway. Daryl had been training her, he knew what she could do. Logically, he knew this was the next step; she needed to try. Moreover, he wanted to be the one to help her do it. That notion in itself seemed troublesome to him as it snaked through his belly, but he wasn't going to back down now. "Besides, it'll be easier to keep an eye on her if it's just the two of us."

Rick conceded. He looked around their camp. This was not a way to spend the winter the way he saw it. They needed a house with a proper roof and a fireplace. Some place to hole up for awhile.

Daryl had pulled off the road after Carol continued to voice her doubts about the run. The cab of the truck suddenly felt too small. He was frustrated and riddled with tension, and he needed to get out before he said something he would regret. He wasn't sure how he had let her down, but she had lost her trust in him. Even worse, she had lost confidence in herself. And it made him angry and confused.

Looking out across the empty field, he breathed deeply. The view was expansive. Just being outside in the quiet, fresh air helped to deflate some of the pressure Daryl had felt building up inside.

After a few minutes, Carol slipped out of the truck and slowly approached Daryl. She shouldn't have agreed to go, she realized that now. She would just be a liability.

Initially, she had been excited about the opportunity to go on a run when Daryl had found her first thing in the morning and asked her to go with him. He told her he thought she was ready for the next phase in her training. But she grew more reluctant after she had spoken to Rick who, although he had agreed let her go, expressed his concern about her lack of preparation and suggested she postpone going out until she'd had more target practice.

"Lots of things can go wrong," he had cautioned her.

"I don't know if I can do this, Daryl. Rick's right, I'm not any good at this." Carol crumpled. Her eyes glumly fell to her muddy boots.

Rick. Daryl wondered when she had started trusting that man again. He didn't like the look on her face. It pulled at him and made something in his chest tumble into his gut. He was pissed at Rick for making her doubt herself. He had to fix this.

"Hey." He tenderly hooked his fingers around her chin and made her look at him. "You're gonna be just fine," he barked just a little too aggressively. Cringing at his tone, he began to chew on the inside of his lip, trying to hold back the angst that was mounting once again in his chest. He couldn't fuck this up and make her more afraid.

She looked back at him and nodded her head, but he could still see the hesitation dulling her eyes. Fuck! It agitated him. The pressure in his chest intensified. He looked away, not knowing what to do. Suddenly, his eyes caught on something shining in the weeds. When he recognized what it was, he turned abruptly and went to grab the shotgun out of the cab of the truck. Upon returning, he stopped in front of the weeds and reached down to pick up the empty beer can that had been long ago discarded. He slipped it into his jacket pocket.

"C'mere," he glowered as he seized her hand and made her follow him, hurriedly, across the field to the fence. He pulled the can out of his pocket and placed it grimly on the post.

Then he turned around and towed her another twenty paces away. "Here," he insisted, pressing the gun into her hands. Determined, he put his hands on her shoulders and directed her towards the target.

"Go ahead," he said expectantly, waving his hands at her. "Show me what you can do."

Carol grew nervous as Daryl narrowed his eyes at her and waited with his arms akimbo. Hesitantly, she drew the gun to her shoulder and took aim.

"Stop," Daryl commanded, holding up one hand.

She started to lower the gun until he reached out and put his fingers underneath the barrel to stop her.

"Keep it up," he directed her. His eyes steadfastly bore into hers.

It was cold outside, but Carol felt her neck grow warm as Daryl stood there challenging her. She swallowed the lump of fear that had risen in her throat and returned the gun to her shoulder.

"Step back a little with your right leg," he instructed.

Her torso shifted as she stepped her foot back. The gun immediately felt different to Carol, more manageable. She let out a breath as she gazed at the target.

He touched the back of her head lightly. "Lower your head."

Tiny shivers ran down her neck the moment he made contact with her. He'd never stood this close to her while he scrutinized her. Trembling slightly, she moved her head closer to the gun but her eyes wandered apprehensively to where he was standing.

"Keep your eyes on the target," he reminded her sharply.

Her eyes snapped back to the can at the end of the barrel. Recalling yesterday's ordeal, her body stiffened with the anticipation of failure. The perspiration rolled down her neck as she felt her heart hammering in her ears. Her fingers tightened around the gun.

"Relax," he told her in a soothing manner, reading her easily. "Ain't no need to worry. You got this."

He waited until he saw that her body had softened a little.

"Let your breath come out real slow before you pull the trigger," he continued to guide her.

Carol exhaled gradually, keeping her eyes fixed on the target. She felt her fear receding as she did so. When the last of her breath was released, she pulled the trigger before she lost her nerve. The can violently flew off the post. Her eyes widened. Releasing the gun from her shoulder, she stared incredulously at the empty spot where the can had been.

"See," Daryl said smugly. "Like I said."

Carol's eyes were still wide as she turned to him. "I hit it," she said in amazement. A slow smile began to transform her face. She nearly laughed at herself for her worry.

"Course you did!" he exclaimed. The relief expanded in his chest as Carol's eyes brightened. "Don't know what the hell Rick was tellin' ya. But don't listen to 'im. You can do this."

What the hell had Rick said to her? She couldn't remember exactly, but she knew she hadn't felt very capable. It was Daryl who bolstered her confidence. He believed in her. Without thinking, she turned and gave him a hug.

"Thank you," she said, squeezing him in delight.

Surprised, he jumped as her arms wrapped around him. His body went reflexively rigid while the scent of her drifted upwards, ensnaring him. Temporarily paralyzed, his throat became dry as the heat of her seeped into his body.

When Carol realized that she had stepped into Daryl's personal space, she quickly let him go. She tried not to make a big deal about it.

Almost as quickly as they had wrapped around him, her arms were suddenly gone. Daryl felt a chill where her body had been, but his face burned red hot. Finding his feet again, he awkwardly shifted his weight back and forth, unsure where exactly to move them. He coughed trying to expel the feeling of her pressed against him. "Hell, I ain't done nothin'," he forced the words out. He couldn't look at her.

Carol smiled as she watched Daryl struggle in his uneasiness. It was endearing and almost comical, and she had to press her lips together to suppress her mirth. The fact that he hadn't pushed her away when she hugged him hadn't escaped her. He hadn't run. He hadn't lashed out. They were making progress.

"Well," she drawled. "I couldn't have done it without you."