Contemplation

Author's Note: This is the nth story I've written for The Walking Dead. It does revolve around the dynamic between Rick, Carol and Daryl.

I have a total of sixteen stories written, in this vein. I'd like to thank you for all the reviews I've received, they've been very kind and I hope I won't disappoint.

Rating: M - for Dixon potty mouth.

05/21/13 - 08/17/13


As Daryl walked around the camp he realized he felt calm.

Something he had not felt in well - ever.

At least not this type of calm, the type he usually associated when he went hunting. The serenity of the forest, the hills, they brought out a sense of stillness in him. He wasn't getting angry, he wasn't shouting, or using his fists or getting into arguments. And there was no fury lurking right underneath the surface, no underlying tension just waiting to come out.

No, he was at peace.

He knew the reason why.

Carol.

Sure, she made him feel antsy; his palms would sweat, his heart would race whenever she put her hand on his, or when she leaned against him. It took all of his willpower not to turn and drop a kiss on the crown of her head as he had seen her do with Ass Kicker from time to time.

Otherwise, she made him feel good and he liked it, more than he probably should.

He bit his lip as he walked around the campsite they had set-up, his crossbow lying comfortably across his arm, notched and ready to go. He looked over at Carol who was sleeping next to the fire. She had tossed and turned for a little while, before settling down.

He smirked, they had gotten used to sleeping on bunks Carol had probably forgotten what it was like to sleep out in the open.

Despite the evening becoming chilly, the small fire he had built was keeping the area around the two of them warm. It wasn't as big as he might have liked but he couldn't risk attracting attention in the middle of the night.

He had told Carol to sleep in the truck, but she wouldn't do it.

"I won't be able to sleep if I know you're out here by yourself." She told him, her arms crossed over her chest staring at him. He felt she was daring him to say something else.

Oh, he wanted to. He knew being in the truck was safer, that he'd feel better if she was locked away, but she looked at him. Her eyes bore into his and he caved.

He was whipped and he knew it.

Thankfully it had been quiet so far, but he had to stay alert. They hadn't seen any geeks, but they had found the remains of some poor fool who had been brought down. There wasn't much left of him, except some gnawed bones that even the dead would not digest.

Normally, he would have left the body and continued on his way, but Carol wouldn't have it. She was getting feisty on him, telling him straight out: "Daryl, we can't leave it like this. It isn't right, and if you won't bury the remains, I will. What if that was you... or... or me. You wouldn't want your body or what was left of out in the elements would you?"

He grumbled under his breath. "Better not be you," as he dug a hole and put what was left of the body in it, while Carol said some words in a hushed tone. He didn't believe in that shit, but for her he dipped his head until she was finished.

He kicked dirt on top of the bones, knowing full well it wasn't deep enough to keep predators from getting to it. But he wasn't going to tell Carol that. He wanted her to have some peace of mind.

As Daryl continued to walk around, he thought back on the past two days.

Carol was quiet while they followed tracks which looked promising. He had showed her the hand signals he and Merle used when they had gone hunting. He was proud of her when she followed his lead and did as he did no questions asked.

Daryl knew with time, he could teach her to be more self-sufficient and it made him feel good. It wasn't like when he went hunting with Merle. The snide remarks, the stories of his latest conquest, all the things he didn't want to hear about.

They hadn't had as much luck as he had hoped. He had spotted a doe, but did not take the shot as he saw a fawn trail behind her. "Baby needs its momma." he told her quietly as he lowered his crossbow.

Carol had gasped when she saw the fawn, her hand covering her mouth. "Sophia would have loved to have seen this." she whispered, never taking her eyes off them.

Daryl bit the inside of his cheek when he'd heard Carol say that. Sophia should have been around to see this, she should have had the chance to grow up.

At least she don't have to grow up in this fucked up world.

Daryl knew he cared more for Sophia than he had any right too. But she was a part of Carol, a good and decent part. He would have looked out for her. Carol's hand on his arm brought him out of his thoughts. They watched for a minute of two before backing up as quietly as they could.

The snares he had laid had brought them seven rabbits; a good haul he thought, one of which they had eaten for dinner. "Ya need to eat." he told Carol when she started protesting that it should be included with the ones destined for the prison.

"But..."

"Hell woman, would you think about yourself for once?" he said, thrusting the field dressed rabbit in her direction.

He felt bad as Carol looked down for a moment as if she were thinking about it, when she reached up and said, "Thank you."

Best damn rabbit he'd had in awhile.

He had also caught a few raccoons and he had spotted some ducks. He'd have to figure some way to trap them. Using the shotgun they picked up from Woodbury was not a viable option, unless he wanted company.

The one thing he was going to tell Rick when he got back was he had seen spoor from a wild pig. The thought of eating some pork spare ribs made his mouth water. However, there was no way in Hell he was going to go up against one by himself.

He'd seen the damage the tusks on those things did and if he was going to die, it wasn't going to be by a set of pork chops.

Maybe they could round up some of the men later on and go out hunting. Of course it might be too dangerous, what with all the noise they'd probably make. Perhaps he could dig a pit?

As Daryl pondered on the size and depth of the pit he'd need, he thought about what would happen when he and Carol made back to the prison.

He knew they had to return, that the peace he felt now would evaporate; it was inevitable, as soon as he saw the prison coming up on the horizon. He sighed and shook his head. Damn.

The cacophony of sound which grated on his nerves would hit him full force as soon as they drove past the gates. There were just too many damn people milling about for his liking. Not only could it mean trouble, but he couldn't turn around without practically running into someone.

And it wasn't just the people from Woodbury he had to contend with, no, he'd have to face Rick as well.

At least we don't have to worry about Brian no more. Daryl smirked.

He and Rick had a small conversation with the man, explaining how upset they would be if he even sneezed in Carol's direction.

The fear of Daryl Dixon had been put into the man because apparently, God was a little more forgiving than he was.

Daryl did have the good graces to feel a little guilty about it.

It wasn't that they didn't feel Brian wasn't decent, they simply both decided that he would never be good enough for their Carol. Even if it wasn't the apocalypse, Brian wouldn't have had a shot in hell. Not if he or Rick had anything to say about it.

Daryl rubbed the back of his neck, all of this thinking was driving him crazy.

There was only one other man he would trust Carol's welfare to and he had to admit to himself Rick Grimes would look after Carol if something were ever happen to him.

Daryl sighed as he shook his head slowly, deciding to take another walk around the perimeter. The only sounds he'd heard were crickets and an owl or two, but that didn't mean anything wasn't out there.

He knew Carol could trust him to be there for her and it scared him.

Daryl had never felt this way for anyone who wasn't family, never imagined that someone would feel something for him beside fear and disgust.

Yet somehow, Carol had wormed her way into his heart and it was terrifying. He didn't want to let her down, he didn't want Carol to regret putting so much faith in him, only to see what a mistake that had been. And he sure as hell did not want to ruin what they already had.

She brought out the best in him without trying and simply being around her made him feel different.

Being with the group had given his life a new purpose and meaning. He wasn't Merle Dixon's younger brother, the fuck up, the redneck.

No, he was Daryl Dixon.

Rick Grimes second in command, hunter, tracker, friend and Judith Grimes godfather. Distinctions he could actually live with and hold his head up with pride.

No one from Woodbury knew what type of life he had and he could see that some of them recognized him from having fought with Merle, but for the most part they simply knew him as the person Rick would turn to when making decisions about the group.

He may have not liked it at first; more like kicked and screamed against having to take care of other people besides the ones he considered his family by choice but it fit him like a glove now, even if there were too many of them around.

Daryl sighed deeply.

He had to give Carol credit; she had seen something in him, something buried underneath the years of neglect and abuse from his family and would not give up on him, even when there were times when he wanted nothing to do with her.

Even when he was struggling with feelings he had never had before and wasn't sure what to do with.

Hell, Rick had been married and look how well that turned out for him.

But at least Rick knew what to do to get a woman to marry him.

Not that he was thinking marriage.

Hell no!

If he was honest with himself however, that was all he could think about where Carol was concerned. She was the marrying type, even he could see that.

Daryl had only known one type of woman growing up and those were usually Merle's castoffs. Those weren't the ones you'd bring home to your ma and pa.

She was ten, twenty times better than any of them.

Carol wasn't the woman you'd fuck and forget. She wasn't the type of woman you'd pick up in a bar and screw in the back of the truck, hoping you didn't catch anything. He was ashamed to think about how he simply used the other women and forgot about them just as quickly.

Carol wasn't like them, no, she was the kind of woman you brought home to your parents. Well, perhaps not his folks, or more specifically, his bastard of a father who probably would have treated her like shit under his shoe.

Daryl would have probably put a beat down on his pa for even thinking about treating Carol with anything less than respect.

Yeah, he wouldn't thrust Carol into that mess.

But Daryl knew she was definitely the woman you wanted to come home to and not to simply warm his bed.

No, she'd warm his soul.

That's what scared him the most.

Daryl wanted to come home, the prison, wherever the fuck they were at the moment and know she was waiting for him. And he didn't mean like she would now. No, he wanted to be able to walk up to her, take her in his arms and kiss her in front of everyone.

He couldn't understand why she would feel anything for him.

Rick could treat Carol exactly how she deserved – how she should be treated.

Daryl scratched the back of his head, looked up to see the full moon; he had no idea what came next.

He sure as hell didn't know how to court a woman.

Somehow he had done something right, by giving her that rose. It had been the first time he'd ever given any woman a flower, except for his Ma when he was a kid.

He could recall feeling his mother's arms around him, squeezing him tight. It made him feel ten feet tall until his father ruined it, like everything else.

His father had walked in on them and began yelling at her. Asking who had given her the flower. When she told him, he stomped over towards them, yanked the flower from his mother's hand and crushed it underneath his boot before leaving the room.

Lord how he cried.

Daryl's mother had held onto him for the longest time, before wiping the tears from his face. "Baby, your Pa may have crushed the flower, but." She pointed to her chest. "I'll always have it right here."

He had never given a flower to anyone again, until Carol. Daryl had refused to allow himself to get close, to let someone pass the walls he had built.

But now flowers were a reminder of how he failed her.

He hadn't been able to bring Sophia back, couldn't now, even as much as he had hoped and wanted, then and now.

Hell, he and Rick had failed Carol in that respect.

Despite it all, the death of her child, Carol had forgiven them, much to his relief.

Daryl shook his head and made another circuit of the campsite, scowl firmly in place; these thoughts were giving him a headache.


Carol opened her eyes.

Daryl skulked around the campsite in her line of sight and she watched as he bit his lip, his brow furrowing. He was thinking about something and she wondered what it could be.

Was he regretting bringing her along? She tried to do her best, following his instructions to the letter.

Daryl was a very good teacher and she thought he should hold classes, explaining how to spot tracks, how to follow them, how to set up snares. It may be basic, but it could be the deciding factor of either going to bed hungry or on a full stomach.

Knowing him, he wouldn't even do it if she did ask him. Though he knew his experience was essential, Daryl wouldn't get up in front of people and teach.

Perhaps if she broached the subject with Rick first, when they returned to the prison, he could convince Daryl.

It never hurt to have another tracker or hunter. Some of the men from Woodbury had experience in hunting, but none of them held a candle to Daryl's expertise. Whereas one or two men from Woodbury would go out hunting, they would only bring back one or two things they had caught, while Daryl always managed to bring back more.

Carol wasn't sure what to think when he had taught her how to use his beloved crossbow, which surprised her considering she felt it was more of an extension of him rather than a weapon. Seeing the crossbow in her arms instead of Daryl's just seemed weird, perhaps wrong, if she thought about it that way.

It was unwieldy, but Daryl had patience with her and although she missed more times than not, she knew with practice she would be able to shoot with some accuracy and it was an experience she would never forget.

The first few misses had been because Daryl was right behind her, helping her hold the crossbow up in the proper position. She wondered if he felt her shiver when he whispered instructions in her ear.

Lord that man voice was a dangerous weapon.

She turned onto her side and gazed into the embers of the slowly dying fire. They would be heading back in the morning and as much as Carol missed everyone, she would miss the closeness they had shared the last two nights.

Except for when he was taking watch, she had never seen him more relaxed in the entire time she's known him. Daryl was in his element, out here in the woods, than back in the prison. She knew he hated having to deal with the people who came from Woodbury.

It had taken him so long to finally feel apart of their small core group, that having all these new people was taxing on him.

She could understand how he must be feeling as well.

These few days she had been out with him were the best she'd known since coming to the prison. They weren't moving from one place to another, trying to survive. They weren't trying to keep one step ahead of those things out there. They had a home to go back to and that made a difference.

There were people waiting for them to come back and it would be nice to see the people who now made up her family, their family.

Carol could not wait to see Judith again. She wanted to see the changes the baby was going through. She was getting so big they would have to make another run for clothes she was growing out of them quickly.

Carol sighed, thinking of the future.

She knew as Judith got older, the probability of seeing who her biological father would become evident. Hopefully there would never come a day when Judith began asking why she didn't look like her daddy.

Rick would be devastated and it would be difficult, but Carol knew deep down he would do right by Judith. She could only hope that Judith would not treat him differently, that she would know he was her daddy and it didn't matter if it wasn't the truth, she would never find a better parent than Rick Grimes.

Carol's thoughts drifted from Judith to the conflicting emotions she felt for Rick and Daryl.

She loved Daryl, she knew she did, but when it came down Daryl's emotional state, she wasn't really sure. He liked her at least she hoped he did. Of course he does. She chastised herself. He would have never let me touch his crossbow otherwise.

They were friends, but, did he feel more?

If he would just tell her, perhaps it wouldn't be so difficult.

She would know what to do.

Then there was Rick.

Carol could not categorize what she felt for him, not yet, but she did admit they were there. He brought out different emotions in her than say Daryl.

Whereas Daryl was all heat, Rick was like the pair of flannel pj's she loved to wear when the weather got cooler: comfortable and warm. Carol shook her head. It was the worse way of describing what she felt for Rick, but the metaphor made sense to her in a way, so she kept it in mind as a point of truth in the confusion.

Regardless of her lack of prowess for describing her feelings for Rick at the moment, she admired him.

What was surprising was when she started have dreams about Rick. She had more dreams than she could count about Daryl. How couldn't she? But when it came to Rick, she noticed they started after the baptism.

Especially after they'd danced.

Carol could recall the way his hands felt in hers, the closeness of his body when they pressed against each other.

She began dreaming about how his hands might feel elsewhere on her body. Carol always awoke feeling frustrated and would blush whenever she ran into Rick in the morning following one of her dreams.

Carol sat up abruptly and started fanning herself as the memories began getting the best of her. She could not believe how exciting it was to think about them caressing her, kissing her all over...

"What are you doing up?" Daryl asked, as he returned to the campsite.

Carol practically jumped up when she heard Daryl's voice, she knew her face was beet red and damn it if she was aroused. "I... I couldn't sleep." she replied, her voice quivering, trying to get back in control.

"Lucky me, it's your shift." he said, as he sat down on his bedroll. He placed his crossbow within easy reach.

Carol got up quickly. "Of course." she told him, gathering her jacket closer to her body.

"Hey." Daryl reached out and grabbed her by the wrist before letting go. "You alright?"

Carol nodded, not trusting her voice at the moment. Daryl's hand burned, when he had held her momentarily. "I." she took a deep breath. "I'm fine."

Daryl stared at her a moment of two longer, before shrugging his shoulder. "Alright then, it's been quiet. I don't think you'll have any trouble."

"Okay." Carol replied. "You should rest."

"You call me if something doesn't feel right. Or if you hear something, understand?" he instructed.

"I will."

Daryl nodded. "Fine, wake me in two hours."

"But..."

"Woman, I said, two hours. It's more than enough time for me. We'll break camp and start back." He said, his voice brooking no argument. He lay down and closed his eyes and got as comfortable as he was going to get.

Carol shivered and once again brought her jacket closer. The funny thing, she wasn't really cold. She was quite the opposite. Damn it Carol, stop it. You don't have time to think about this now.

Carol settled herself and began to walk the perimeter, the knife she had now firmly in her hand.

The End.