Disclaimer: I lay no claim to The Walking Dead or its characters. I can't help it if they talk to me inside my head.
A/N: I hate A/Ns but I feel that I owe you all an apology for the gap. My Muse is a fickle thing and the season finale of the show really messed with it. So it took a vacation. Sorry. I'll try to keep it in line in the future.
Winter had pushed so far into spring that Carol was secretly questioning whether or not Hershel had been counting the days correctly. She had never remembered June nights being so cold, and it worried her that they were having to camp out in the open again. They were nearly out of food, and Lori was due to have her baby any day.
The last three houses that they had sheltered in were surrounded by walkers within hours. The house that they'd tried to take shelter in that morning had lasted twenty whole minutes before T-Dog had spotted a herd approaching out of one of the windows.
They had ran out the back door and hadn't looked back, but as the afternoon wore on, with no suitable shelters presenting themselves, Rick had called for a stop for the night so that they could regroup and plan their next move.
"At least we found tents," Carol sighed, stirring together the last two cans of baked beans and lighting the propane cook stove. Lori settled herself into a lawn chair beside her and groaned uncomfortably.
"I don't know about you, but I sure do miss that beat up old RV of Dale's," the pregnant woman confided. "Not looking forward to sleeping on the ground tonight. We don't have a forklift handy to pick me back up."
Carol chuckled. "I'm sure the boys could rig something up to get you back up and moving if it comes to that."
"With what? A paper clip and a wad of bubble gum?" Lori smirked. "I think MacGyver's probably dead by now."
"That guy ain't got nothin' on our group, Lori," Carol said softly, wondering how she was going to stretch two measly cans of beans amongst the ten of them. As if on cue, a string of furry creatures landed on the tailgate which Carol was using as a makeshift kitchen next to the stove.
"Who's on watch?" Daryl growled. He glanced at Carol quickly before scanning the campsite to assess the current state of affairs. Glenn and Maggie were in the process of erecting tents as Beth and Hershel tended a fledgling campfire. T-Dog and Carl were on wood gathering duty, which left Rick on watch. The ex-cop was currently situated on top of Hershel's old SUV, and he acknowledged Daryl with a wave before turning to scan their surroundings once more.
Carol hid a smile as the redneck glanced down at the pan she was stirring.
"Beans again?" he bit into his thumbnail and wrenched the string of squirrels back off the tailgate in the same motion. "Better post an extra person on watch. Those geeks are gonna smell this camp from miles away."
He took off to clean his kill without another word, leaving Lori staring and Carol giggling.
"So crude," Lori clucked.
Carol couldn't help herself, bursting into full out laughter. "You should be used to it by now," she admonished, wiping tears away from her eyes.
"I'll never get used to Daryl Dixon," Lori muttered. "That man was raised by a pack of wolves."
"We ever find that pack of wolves, I'm writing them a thank-you letter," Carol replied. "We'd be dead by now without him hunting for us."
"I think wolves have a more varied palate than all you can eat squirrel," Lori complained wrinkling her nose.
"Maybe so," Carol agreed. "But we haven't died of starvation. That's mostly thanks to Daryl. I'm not complaining."
She chose to ignore Lori's snort of a reply, chalking it up to pregnancy hormones. The woman might forget her manners sometimes, but Carol refused to believe that she was that rude. Especially in such desperate times. She continued to stir the beans, knowing Daryl would be back shortly with the meat that would tide them over until tomorrow.
With dinner done and the campfire burning low, it was time to call it a night. Rick was passing out watch duty when sleeping quarters came into question. Four tents between the ten of them weren't ideal for privacy or security.
"Carol, why don't you bed down with Lori and Carl for the night? I can take first watch and alternate with Daryl and T-Dog in the fourth tent." Rick knew that separating Maggie and Glenn or Hershel and Beth was out of the question.
"Ain't necessary, Rick," Daryl spoke up before Carol could. "She's bunking with me and T-Dog."
To Carol's surprise, Lori shot Daryl a grateful look from across the campfire, but she immediately grabbed Carl and left the fire circle without a word to Rick.
"You sure about that, Carol?" Rick asked, as if he were totally unaware that she'd been sleeping next to Daryl since shortly after they had been forced to flee the Greene farm so many months ago.
"I don't see a problem with it," she nodded. "Better that Lori and Carl were close to you on our first night out in the open again, and Daryl and T-Dog won't let anything happen to me. I wouldn't even mind a turn at watch. Maybe closer to morning, so I can get breakfast going for everyone." She snuck a glance at Daryl, who gave her a brief bob of his head in approval.
"I'll take that watch with Carol," he agreed. "Need to go huntin' again in the morning."
"Alright then. T-Dog and Hershel have first watch, followed by Glenn and Maggie, then you and Carol," Rick nodded to Daryl. "Let's get some sleep, people. We'll discuss our next move in the morning."
Carol wasn't surprised to find her bedroll and bag laid out next to Daryl's in the tent that they were sharing with T-Dog. She wasted no time in pulling off her shoes and crawling into her sleeping bag, not even bothering to change into something different for sleeping. She'd given up on pajamas shortly after the world had ended, and her daytime clothes tended to be warmer anyway.
Daryl, for his part, took off his boots and started cleaning his crossbow by lantern light. This too, had become a familiar ritual.
Carol watched him for a few minutes before yawning and rolling over, trying to find some sleep where sleep could be found.
"Ya a'right?" he asked quietly, a few moments later.
She rolled back over and studied him in the flickering light, knowing that it wasn't concern for her that caused him to ask. Something was bothering him. She could tell by the way his brow furrowed with more concentration than it took to be wiping down his weapon with a rag. He was carefully avoiding her gaze, and his body was tense. She knew he had something to say, but wasn't quite sure how to reply to get him to come right out and say it.
She'd learned this by trial and error over the winter months. Their language had developed from simple glances into something infinitely more complex. It hadn't been easy, getting Daryl to talk to her at first, and she'd thought it had just been him looking out for her well-being. But as time wore on, Carol had realized that he was trying to communicate in his own backwards way. So she'd learned how to listen to him. It wasn't just what he said to her, it was how he said it. He said more to her with his body language than he did with his mouth.
When she didn't reply immediately, Daryl gave her a sidelong glance and scowled. "Cat got yer tongue, woman?"
She sighed and sat up. "No," she said softly, leveling him with a look that said he'd better spill it. The direct approach didn't always work, but she was too tired to play games tonight. "What's bothering you, Daryl?"
He shrugged, looking away and continuing to polish the crossbow absently. Carol waited, knowing he would either speak or he wouldn't.
"Ya ain't mad at me, are ya?" he finally asked in a low voice. "Ya know, for tellin' Rick you was sleepin' in here."
Carol watched his neck flush red as her jaw dropped. This was what was troubling him? Of all the things that she might have thought was on his mind, this was a surprise, and she wasn't immediately sure how to answer him. She watched as he turned an even darker shade of red, the color creeping up into his cheeks, and finally, his ears.
"Well?" he growled. "Ain't got all night. If you wanna sleep in the tent with Lori, better get packin'."
"What?" Carol was still in shock. Her brain was racing to find the right words, but apparently it wasn't fast enough for Daryl's liking.
"I know ya damn well heard me," he bit out angrily. "If ya don't wanna be here, ain't no one holdin' ya down."
"Daryl Dixon, shut your mouth!" she finally found her voice, and discovered she was indeed angry at him, but not for the reason he thought that she was.
He looked up at her then, meeting her glare openly, his mouth twisted somewhere between a frown and something malicious.
"I'm here, aren't I?" she snapped at him. "You should know by now that I don't sleep unless I know you're right here next to me!"
It was Daryl's turn to look surprised as Carol clapped a hand over her mouth, mortified. She hadn't even admitted that fact to herself, and even if she had, she certainly wouldn't have told him.
But it was true.
Ever since he'd started bedding down next to her at night, she'd slept easier. Despite the nightmares, the cold, and the fear of walkers, just knowing he was within arm's reach if things went south had been an immense comfort to her. She knew that there were deeper implications to Daryl's original question, but her brain shifted into damage control mode as she watched the color drain from his face and his jaw go slack.
Carol figured that Daryl was probably seconds from storming out of the tent and avoiding her for the next month, and she wouldn't blame him. She couldn't help the nervous giggle that escaped from behind her hand, which was still covering her mouth, any more than she could help what spilled out of her mouth immediately after the giggle.
"And here I was, thinking you'd set all this up because you wanted to fool around. Pretty romantic, what with T-Dog on watch and the tent all to ourselves." She couldn't help herself, wagging her eyebrows at him wickedly.
Daryl looked at her warily, finally relaxing enough to snort at her and smirk. "Go ta sleep, woman. We got watch in the mornin'."
"Oh, fine," she huffed, sticking out her lower lip and pouting at him for effect. "You're no fun, you know that?"
His only response was another snort.
Carol laid back down, back to him and heart racing.
She didn't know what to make of what had just happened, and it was a long time before her racing mind finally let her drift off to sleep.