A/N: 12/22/2014 This was one of my favorites to write ;)

wildcow258: Thanks again. I'm glad you think I'm doing such a good job! ^^

Terp4Life: Aww, thank you! ^^

Reading time: 2 mins.

Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead.

Chapter six: Sincere~

Though further evidence of Sophia's whereabouts continued to be less than fruitful, he still searched.

And Carol appreciated that.

He knew she did; she let him know every five minutes. He would say it was annoying, but they were past that now. Because it wasn't annoying, being told you were needed, liked, wanted. Essential to the survival of others. In fact, he doubted if it would ever get old. But of course, it was too soon to tell.

Eventually, his hard work paid off.

He had to fall off a horse and get stabbed with one of his own arrows to do it, but he found it; he found Sophia's doll.

Carol had been elated to see it, or at least he pictured her being elated - he had been rushed to the farmhouse after that bitch Andrea shot him in the head (thank God she was such a terrible shot and the bullet had only grazed him) so he didn't get to see her reaction.

Daryl lay in bed in one of the guest rooms of the farmhouse, resting on his side as he waited for the painkillers to kick in for his ribs and head.

Carol had come in moments before, giving her thanks for finding the doll and telling him he was every bit as good as Rick or Shane or anyone else and trying to make him 'feel better' and shit.

At first he had thought she was sucking up, just trying to get him back on his feet faster so he could go out and search for Sophia again since he was pretty much the only one that even wanted to now, but then he realized that she meant every word, with a conviction that almost shocked him.

And then she'd kissed him, and all bets were off.

Carol smiled warmly down at him and left the room, and Daryl fought to hide the incredible heat that flooded up the back of his neck and into his cheeks as she shut the door.

He didn't bother glancing at the food - he knew he was going to end up eating whatever it was anyway. Besides, after that, he practically owed it to her. And he hated owing someone something.

But it didn't change that she had truly meant what she'd said, and the words were meant only for him, and him alone.

As he turned carefully around on the bed to face his dinner, he acknowledged that she was still weak. But she was also something else.

Aside from being nice and kind and caring and motherly, Carol Peletier was something that a lot of the others weren't.

Sincere.

A/N: Up next: Broken.

See you tomorrow!