Author's Note: I've reached over three figures in reviews. This makes me want to curl in a ball and sob. I love you, people.

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It took a week before he finally started easing off on carrying her about. Daryl went off hunting every morning, always back before lunch. Rick had asked him more than once to start making plans for their intended trip to Newtown for more weapons. Daryl insisted on waiting a little longer, she knew he was waiting until she was better. She wished he would go. Those few hours in the morning, where she was able to do as she pleased, were beginning to be the highlight of her day. Dare she say it, Daryl was irritating her. It was just plain suffocating.

He wouldn't let her do anything. Going from room to room meant being cradled like a baby, it was so embarrassing that when Daryl got back from hunting, she would only go into another room when absolutely necessary. He was forever plumping pillows, passing over cups of tea or telling Carl off for "tiring her out". She finally lost it with him when he tried to put her socks on for her one morning and screeched at him in frustration. It made her feel guilty as sin when he left the room, without saying a word. She ended up apologising to him.

At least he took the hint. She could see he had to restrain himself from doing things for her and she appreciated the effort. The girls kept making little digs at her, Lori laughing about how when Daryl fell for someone, he fell hard. Carol blushed and shrugged the joke off, although she was starting to think maybe it was true, not that she could be sure as to why, exactly.

Maggie had taken to lolling on the sofa beside her, asking Glenn to do every little thing for her, joking that he clearly didn't love her enough if he wouldn't do them. The young boy just rolled his eyes and ignored her, not wanting to get involved. Daryl didn't notice, or if he did, he just ignored her.

She loved his company, she truly did, but not like this. At night, when it was just the two of them and she was tucked up in bed, then he was normal. She enjoyed being with him those last few minutes before sleep and the first few when waking up in the morning. She wished for her leg to heal faster, so things could go back to normal. Except, he could stay in her bedroom when her leg healed. Or at least she hoped he would.

Her wound was getting smaller every day, soon the stitches would be out and she'd be left with nothing but a nasty scar. Hershel did well as a make-shift doctor, but as a vet, he didn't have much experience with neat stitches and minimising scarring. Not that it really mattered, it was better than being dead.

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Daryl knew that he was irritating her. He was used to irritating people though, so he ignored it. He tried to keep her distracted when he realised eventually, she was going to want to leave the compound. He hoped that by giving her things to do, to take her mind off of outside, she'd give up on it. So he handed her sewing and darning, so she'd sit by the fire all afternoon. Talk about favourite foods so that she'd spend all day in the kitchen, conjuring them up to the best of her ability. He even managed to get Carl in on the act, bribing the boy with fishing lessons in exchange for taking up Carol's time. He had to hand it to the kid, he took it seriously. He had Carol sitting with him for his schoolwork, asking her to read him stories that Daryl knew damn well he was too old for. Carl even asked her for a haircut, which wound up with her sitting every last one of them on a stool for a trim, taking her the entire day.

At the end of every day, she'd crawl into bed, exhausted, never once mentioning "outside". He would let her go hunting, if she asked, he decided. He could look after her there, they never met more than a couple of Walkers at a time, an easy task.

His plan was going well, he thought until that old fool Hershel ruined it.

They'd been sitting in the living room, most of them, enjoying the warmth of the fire. Daryl was at the dining table, fiddling with his crossbow, fixing up arrow heads. Carol was at the couch with Carol tucked up tight, flicking through an encyclopedia the young boy had found. Rick was talking about the final trip out for the winter, that should've taken place over a week ago, but was put aside in light of Carol's injury. He mentioned weapons, one final trip to a Walmart, when Carol spoke up asking about cooking ingredients.

"We could do with some more flour and things, if we could get them. Some rice and pasta too." She hardly looked up from her page in the book, where Carl was pointing at something that fascinated him.

"Weather's not too cold yet, not even a sign of frost, could we afford to hold off another couple of weeks, for Carol to come and pick those things out?" Hershel asked. Daryl's head shot up at the mention of her name. "Wound is healing nicely, I'd say two weeks would have you back to full fitness." Carol nodded to Rick, agreeing with the old man but she turned sharply when Daryl groaned. He thought he'd done it under his breath, but apparantly not.

"Something wrong, son?" Everyone turned to look at Daryl, who continued with polishing his bow.

"Think we should just stick to me, Rick, Glenn an' T-Dog on this one." He muttered, putting down his rag and gnawing on his fingernail.

"Why, exactly?" Her tone was icy, she looked at him, with confusion. "If we're waiting, I'll be fine. I won't be holding anyone back."

"Just not necessary." He kept his tone clipped. He was not arguing with her in front of the others.

She looked at him, bewildered. She knew just how to make him feel as guilty as fuck. He looked away, continuing his meticulous cleaning, trying to ignore the heat rising in his cheeks.

"I think it's a sound plan. If we go to Walmart, we'll need more manpower, maybe Maggie'd like to come too." Rick looked to Maggie, who nodded her head firmly, despite Glenn's worried look. "We can pair up, cover more ground that way."

"Yeah, well look that fuckin' worked out last time." Daryl couldn't help but say it. Carol had made him promise over and over to drop the issue but it was always there, in the back of his mind. She got stabbed.

"Hey!" Maggie, jumped to Glenn's defense immediately, sensing the jab immediately.

"I'm sorry!" Glenn looked at Daryl rather than Carol as he said it. "I've said sorry a thousand times. If I could go back and change things-"

"If you could go back and change things, I would likely to be dead." Carol cut across him, her arm outstretched to silence him. "I got hurt. But I'm fine. If Glenn hadn't done what he did, I would be dead. Or undead, if you like." She spoke to the room but her eyes flickered back and forth to Daryl. "None of you were there, so none of you can pass judgement."

He recoiled at her words. So she was blaming him? Because he wasn't there? He should've been, he knew that. He turned his back to her for a few minutes and that happened. He knew it was his fault.

"I'm sick of talking about it. Go without me, go tomorrow if that's what you want." She picked herself up of the couch, ruffling Carl's hair before she left the room.

"Shit." He mumbled under his breath. He pushed his crossbow aside and followed her out of the room, leaving the rest of them discussing the plans for the scavenge.

She made it up the stairs pretty fast for someone who only had one fully functioning leg. He caught the door to her bedroom before it swung in his face.

"Just leave me alone." She told him, heading for the chest of drawers, hunting for her pajamas.

"No. I ain't doin' this to be a bastard. It's safer in here. You don't need to go." He walked right behind her, grabbing her by the shoulder to force her to look at him. She shrugged him off, pulling out the sleepwear and turning away from him.

"That right? Because the way I'm seeing it, seems like you don't have much faith in me."

"I just don't see the point in you riskin' your neck aswell!" He got right up in her face, he was angry now, why couldn't she see what he was trying to do?

"Oh! That's a new one. What happened to all that crap about learning to protect myself? I told you this is what I wanted. You agreed to show me. You can't take that back." He was yelling at her, but she refused to raise her voice. Fighting was all he knew, anger was the only way to solve problems in Daryl Dixon's world. She wouldn't fall for someone shouting at her. Not anymore.

"That was before!" He started to say something else and cut off abruptly.

"Before what?"

"Nothin'. It don't matter." He turned away now, heading for the bed.

"Before you felt that I was shit at it?" The swear word rolled off her tongue far too easily. Carol never cursed. Never saw reason for it. He must be rubbing off on her.

"No!" He couldn't answer her question because he didn't know how to say it. He didn't want her to go out because he didn't want to get hurt. Ever.

"I've spent my life taking orders from other people. He never gave me a choice. He never let me live." She couldn't bring herself to even say his name anymore. Her husband was someone she never wanted to remember. "I won't take anymore. I can't."

"Don't you fuckin' dare compare me to that fuckin' asshole, Carol! That bastard was a piece of shit who nearly damn well killed everythin' 'bout you!" He jumped up from the bed, pacing angrily, pointing his finger in her face.

He groaned in frustration, hand clutching at his hair before he stormed from the room, slamming the door so hard that the whole room shook.

Carol stared at the door for several minutes, before throwing herself onto the bed and bursting into tears.

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Sleeping alone again was hard. She'd gotten used to his warm body wrapping itself round her. He ran hot, his skin always warm to the touch, which matched her perfectly, because he feet and hands were always freezing. No matter how they fell asleep she'd always wake up with him clinging to her like a limpet and she'd gotten used to it pretty fast.

She thought that she heard him come up the stairs in the middle of the night, but the door never opened and she assumed that she'd been dreaming when she woke up.

He was gone hunting almost all day. He came in through the side door of the house to avoid her in the kitchen, speaking only to Rick to confirm the plans for the next day before disappearing back outside to clean his kills. Carl brought them into the kitchen for her to prepare the evening meal. T-Dog had gone up to their room to call him for dinner but he never showed up, the plate going cold. When she went back to put some glasses in the sink, she noticed it had disappeared, so she knew he'd snuck down to avoid her.

She wanted to talk to him, but she overheard T-Dog talking to Rick about him and she thought it best to avoid him. Apparantly his mood was black with everyone, not only her. If he didn't come to her that night, she would speak to him in the morning.

Daryl wanted to tell her he was sorry. Sorry for raising his voice at her, sorry for making her feel like shit and sorry for being such a pussy that he couldn't tell her what he meant to say. But she compared him to Ed. It was like a knife in the gut. How could she think of him like that? Was he like her husband? Controlling and possessive? It didn't feel like that. He just wanted to keep her safe. He didn't know much about relationships. How it felt to love someone. He was pretty sure that for him, this was it.

He didn't sleep at all the night of the argument. He even got up at one point, to go see her but her words flashed through his mind as he crept up the steps. I won't take anymore. The thought made his fists curl so tight his bitten down nails dug into his flesh. He turned around and slept on the couch instead, putting as much space between them as possible.

He woke the others who were going scavenging before dawn, itching to get out of the house as soon as possible. Sensing his mood, they went, not wanting to anger the man further when he would be needed for the run.

Carol heard the van roaring to life just as the sun came up and she jumped up to look out the window, seeing the dust kicking up behind the vehicle as it sped off. She was furious. The plan was to leave after breakfast and she knew he had a hand in the matter in order to avoid her.

She was sick of this house. She was sick of being babied about and doing as she was told. She rifled through her drawers for something that would fit over her bulky bandage. She pulled out the red dress, tucked under heaps of other things and smoothed it out. She'd show him, she thought. She was going hunting.

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I may not update tomorrow. That irritating thing called socialising is removing me from the computer. I'm making a start on the next chapter now, if it goes fantastically well then you may strike lucky. If not, see you Saturday!