Chappy Five!

Hope you guys are enjoying things so far; more Daryl/Carol interaction to come soon!

It was the low rumble of thunder that woke her.

The metallic patter of raindrops on the roof of the RV grew more rapid and Carol peered over at the small window to find the grey-yellow light of dawn just peeking through. She sat up at the hum of the Winnebago's electric systems being turned on, and craned her head to find Dale in the front seat.

He looked back at her and motioned to the windows:

"Just rolling them back up; don't want to get the seats wet."

Flopping back down in the haze of half-sleep, she cradled the pillow against her face and sighed at the lulling sounds of rain and distant thunder.

And then re-opened her eyes at the sound of a body shifting just below her.

It wasn't usual for Daryl to still be asleep past daybreak; even on the occasion of rain (which she suspected would be gaining frequency with springtime moving in), he was known to take off to hunt or scout or take watch. He was certainly not known to sleep in.

Carol angled her head over the side of the bed and looked down at him.

Curled in a half-ball and clenching what looked to be his shirt, he snored lightly with every other exhale and his right foot shifted restlessly every few seconds. She smiled down at the sight, the urge to reach down and run a hand though that mop of dark hair again pulling her body further from the bed.

And then she realized, as the sleep wore away from her mind, that he was almost completely naked.

A worn pair of hunter-green boxers hung low on his hips and Carol stared at the curve of his backside as he curled his legs upward. She swallowed thickly, bit her bottom lip…

In an instant she pulled away from her suspension over him, throwing herself flat against the bed and refocusing on the rain outside the window.

She found that the thunderstorm had suddenly lost its calming effect.

Laundry detail was always a constant in the warmer months.

Everyone, man, woman and child alike, stripped sweaty clothes from their sticky bodies every evening to replace them with drier alternatives. Some chose sleepwear. Others slept in day clothes, ready to jump to the nearest weapon in the middle of the night.

Shirts and jeans, slacks and socks, bras and boxers; Carol scrubbed them all.

But someone had to do it.

She'd never complained before, and she had no reason to now. If she could do this one little thing to help provide a normal comfort to their little mismatched family, she felt she was doing something purposeful with what was left of her life.

She smiled and rinsed the cloth in her hands, paying no attention to what it was or who it belonged to….

"That's where my underwear went."

Carol felt her fingers clench the wet fabric in her hands and she turned to face the man standing behind her.

Mike stood peering over her shoulder, one hand scratching at the back of his neck nervously and a rather shy grin ghosting through the bristle growing on his face. Without thinking she looked him over, his words echoing in her head and she found his free hand fiddling with the edge of his jeans.

Her face rushed with heat and she whipped away from him, hands working to wring out the underwear as quickly as possible.

His underwear.

"Oh, right. Um…I washed them." Apparently. "They need to dry…"

She did not look at him as he walked from behind her, coming to crouch down at her right side and eyeing her face for a moment before looking at the bundle of clothes at her feet.

"Thanks, I appreciate it. Nothing worse than dirty undies, right?"

She willed the heat in her cheeks away and smiled at his humor.

As she finished wringing his underwear out she finally turned her head to meet his eyes. He grinned at her softly, balancing on his heels and looking much better than he had three days prior.

She could only nod at his joke, words fumbling in her head under the weight of his kind gaze.

"So, you need some help with this?"

She blinked at him.

"What?"

"The laundry. You usually do it all yourself?"

"Oh…no, not always. I just thought I'd get a jump start on it today…"

He slipped forward to his knees and reached to take the article of clothing from her grasp.

"I'll help get the ball rollin'. Seems everyone else has a chore to do today; no sense in me just sitting around."

Carol breathed deep and nodded, eyes darting across the lake briefly before returning to find Mike's dark orbs still watching her.

"Thanks."

He was quiet while they worked, but not uncomfortably so.

It was only when she led him to the clothes line that stretched from the dining cabin to Rick and Lori's adjacent one that he began to strike up conversation again.

He grinned at her sheepishly from the other side of the line as he hung his own underwear up to dry, reaching down to the basket at their feet to grab a shirt from the damp pile.

"I used to do this when I was a kid. Stand at my mom's feet and hand clothes up to her…" His voice was quiet and distant, but he kept eye contact to show that he meant for her to hear him. "Tried to climb one of the line poles once to hang her apron up myself; was on my way to the ER with a split eyebrow a few minutes later."

He laughed and she chuckled along with him. She would admit the man had a contagious knack for humor.

Standing directly across from her, he leaned over the line and pointed to his left eye.

"See that scar? I stopped climbing trees after that, too."

Carol studied the tiny line of missing eyebrow at the corner of his eye before leaning away to replace distance between them. She did not miss the way his forehead creased momentarily.

"I've never had a problem doing things like this; my wife…she worked long hours as a nurse. I was home more often. That usually left me with the housework."

As he continued to talk Carol realized she had barely spoken a word to him. If it bothered the man, he certainly did not make any attempt to let her know.

She listened as he whistled something, a tune she could not place, watched as he hung clothes straight and almost meticulously. She swallowed hard when he began folding a pair of Daryl's jeans over the line.

He found her gaze again and motioned around them.

"It's nice not to have a shadow standing behind me all day."

Carol blinked and looked around, realizing for the first time that day that indeed, no one was guarding the newcomer as they had before.

"But I get it. Rick said you guys had been here since last fall. It's just you and the people you know- the people you trust, and suddenly some random stranger comes stumbling out of the woods?" Carol fought her instinct to jump when Mike reached forward to lay a hand on her own as she hung one of Glenn's shirts. "Sorry by the way; I didn't mean to scare you out there."

His hand was warm over hers and she stared at it, bewildered at how comfortable she felt around this man.

"It's fine."

The hand pulled away and Carol shifted back a step, her eyes again darting around the camp without her really knowing why.

"I'm gonna have to thank Rick for his kindness. These days, not everyone is willing to help out a stranger."

"He's a good man; he's always trying to do right by people..."

"I can tell," Mike paused and nodded toward the lake where Shane and Andrea were returning from a perimeter check, "but I don't think everyone is as comfortable with my being here as you and Rick…"

Carol caught the glare Shane sent their way, his arm moving to heft the shotgun over his shoulder as he stomped toward his cabin.

Mike hung the last piece of clothing and picked up the basket, awaiting her direction as to where to place it. He scratched his head again and smiled.

"I really am grateful, Carol. You've been too kind…"

She could not help but smile back, her head ducking slightly at the appreciative tone in his voice.

"It's not a problem."

"And I'm especially grateful your friend decided not to shoot me with his crossbow."

Carol jerked her head up to look at the grin on his face.

She did not tell him that if she hadn't moved to put herself between them, Daryl probably would have let that bolt loose.

Instead she motioned for him to follow her to the old recreational building that was now being used for random storage.

She glanced back at him as they walked past the dining cabin.

"Will you be eating with us tonight?"

Mike shrugged in response.

"I don't know; can I?"

"I don't see why not…"

It was in that very cabin that the realization of the situation hit her in full.

Tense was not the word to describe the room. It was simply not strong enough.

Rick for his part was courteous as Mike entered behind Dale, handing him a plate and telling him to take a seat wherever he'd prefer.

Carol should have expected him to walk the length of table, past the few empty spots where certain group members gave each other space, and come to a stop at her side.

"May I?"

Looking down at the empty spot to her right, she glanced about to find its usual occupier missing from the room and felt it to be horrible of her to tell him he could not sit in a spot that was obviously open.

"Sure."

Mike offered an appreciative smile as he settled next to her.

As was her custom she bowed her head to pray, although if she were absolutely honest with herself, she wasn't quite certain if God wanted anything to do with their decimated world anymore. But she prayed still: she prayed for the life of Lori's thriving infant, prayed for safety for the group, prayed for plentiful food and the strength to continue on in the face of so much horror.

If God was listening, He knew she prayed for Daryl to come back from his daily hunt safe and victorious.

Carol opened her eyes to eat.

And found the hunter himself looming at the end of the table, staring down at her.

Glaring. Not staring.

She met the intense look of confusion and hurt and smoldering anger as his eyes flickered to the man sitting in his spot before boring into her with the force of a sledgehammer.

She could do nothing but offer a wary smile and helpless shrug.

Daryl's teeth flashed as they let loose on his bottom lip and he came very close to tossing his plate onto the table in front of her own, moving back to sit directly across from her instead.

An awkward silence filled the table as everyone ate in relative discomfort. Some Carol knew were simply uneasy about having a stranger in their midst, unsure of what to say to or in front of him.

Others were probably trying to finish their meals as quickly as possible to leave the nerve-charged room and retire to sleep.

Mike himself shifted several times in place, pausing in between bites to glance around at the people who had reluctantly taken him in.

Carol found his attention briefly and he smiled down at her.

A sharp exhale reached her ears from across the table and she looked up to find the deadpan glare in Daryl's blue-green eyes focused on Mike instead of her…

And suddenly it was clear.

As they continued to eat their meals in utter silence, Carol watched the man in front of her as subtly as she could.

She swore that with every bite of food he shoved into his mouth, those eyes grew more and more green.