Chapter Thirty-One

"I need y' t' do a favor for me today," he whispered into the darkness. It would be dawn soon, and he had plans to get an early start … without her. He was surprised she was awake. Even though they'd gone to bed well before ten, she'd lain awake a good long while, lost in her own mind. Several times she hadn't been able to hold back her tears. He'd just held on and let her cry. It was better she let the anxiety she suffered out instead of letting it fester. Soon it would all be over, and she'd be able to find rest again.

"Hm?" she hummed sleepily, burrowing deeper against his chest where her head had been resting for the better part of the night.

His long fingers toyed with the short strands of soft hair at her nape. "I need y' t' stay here … in camp, while I go out today."

Carol leaned up on an elbow and tried to make him out in the darkness. Unable to see his expression, she reached over and lit the lantern. She didn't know whether to be hurt or angry. "Why?" she asked, her eyes gleaming with the former as she looked down at him.

"Aww, woman, don't look at me like that," he murmured. "Y' know I'd rather have y' with me than leave y' here with Dale an' Lori, but I have t' find Soph today."

"But, Daryl –"

"No," he said, bringing a hand up to cup her soft cheek. "I'm gonna take one o' the horses out today, ride up t' that ridge we were lookin' at on the map last night. If … when I find 'er, it'll be too hard t' carry back th' three o' us." He didn't want to admit to her how distracting she was. He worried if his pace was too much for her and deliberately kept things slow when she was with him. He worried about the dangers of animals or walkers which might wander into their path and cause a threat. He was concerned about whether or not she was hungry or tired, but he could tell her none of those things because she would think he saw her as weak. She'd come so far in such a short amount of time, and he would do nothing to discourage her.

"We could go on foot and cover just as much ground," she argued desperately. "I don't want you to be alone, Daryl. If something happens –"

"I thought y' knew me better'n that."

Carol slapped lightly at his chest. "You're not invincible! You're just a man!"

He winced at the tears welling in her eyes. "I know how t' handle myself out there, Carol. I've spent most o' m' life in the woods o' Georgia. Stop worryin'."

"How can I not worry?" she cried, hating herself for succumbing to the fear trying to claw its way out of her chest. "I can't lose you too, Daryl. If you don't come back, the group loses its muscle, its provider, but for me … if you don't come back I lose you. No one means more to me than you aside from Sophia."

Daryl felt his throat close up at her confession. No one had ever cared so much about him before. He knew his brother loved him, but he'd take off on a whim if the mood suited him. Not so with Carol. He was vital to her happiness, her well-being, and for that reason alone … it gave him all the more reason to be cautious and to come back to her.

His arm snaked around her waist, flipping her onto her back so he could bury his face against the smooth ivory column of her throat. He still struggled with his feelings, and he didn't want her to see something he wasn't ready to show her. "Y' won't," he growled. "I'll always find m' way back t' you." He nuzzled the sensitive spot behind her ear he'd found last night. "Will y' promise t' stay here an' keep yourself safe … for me?"

Her fingers wound through the strands of his hair, and she pulled him back, so he'd be forced to meet her gaze and accept the soft kiss she placed on his lips. "I will … but I don't have to like it."

*.*.*

"Stop sulkin', woman," Daryl admonished as they made their way over to the Cherokee where Rick was organizing teams to go out and search.

"I still think it's unfair you get to go look for Sophia while I have to stay here and do chores," she scoffed.

He dug through his pack to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything. "It'll do y' some good t' do normal things; keep your mind offa what's goin' on out there. An' y' got Lori t' keep y' company. Th' ol' man's got a couple o' daughters. Y' could chat them up."

"Thank you."

"For what?" he asked, truly puzzled.

"For thinking of ways to take my mind off of how worried I am about Sophia."

"Toldja, ain't nothin' t' worry about, woman. She's comin' home today."

"Mornin' guys, let's get going," Rick said, waving everyone closer. "We've got a lot of ground to cover today. We're going to split into teams of two, and each team will take a grid."

Andrea yawned around the smile she shot at Carol and tried to focus on paying attention. T-Dog's eyes were barely opened, and he was more than a little appreciative for the coffee Dale had brewed over the campfire.

"If Sophia made it as far as the farmhouse Daryl found yesterday, she might've gone further east than where we've been so far," Rick continued.

Carol narrowed her eyes at the young boy she hadn't met yesterday. Rick seemed familiar with him, but to her he was a stranger. She was surprised when he offered to join the search, claiming he knew the area and could be of assistance. She leaned over to Dale. "Who's that?"

Dale looked at her in surprise before he remembered she'd been out with Daryl the previous afternoon. "That's Beth's boyfriend, Jimmy."

"Beth?"

"Hershel's youngest girl," he supplied.

She focused again on what Rick was saying. "Maybe we can pick up her trail again. At least I'm hoping."

"Ain't no maybe about it," he snorted as he pulled a long-sleeved flannel over his shoulders. "I'ma borrow a horse, head up t' this ridge right here," he pointed to the map. "Take a bird's eye view of the entire grid. If she's up there, ain't no way I won't spot her."

"Good idea," Rick said. "Carol going with you?"

"Naw, she's staying here this time." He glanced furtively at her from beneath his lashes, just waiting for her to start grumbling, but she surprised him, holding her tongue.

T-Dog grinned and leaned on the hood of the Cherokee. "Maybe you'll see your chupacabra up there too."

"Chupacabra?" Rick shot a puzzled look at the group, hoping someone would explain.

"You've never heard this?" Dale asked, arching a lone bushy brow. When Rick shook his head, he continued. "Dixon's first night in camp, he tells us the whole thing reminds him of a time he went squirrel hunting and he saw a chupacabra."

Carol giggled, and Daryl gaped at her. "Damn, woman, you too? What am I, the fuckin' comic relief?" Jimmy, T-Dog and Rick were having their own problems hiding their laughter.

"So, you believe in a blood-sucking dog," the teenager quipped.

The hunter narrowed his eyes on the boy. "Do you believe dead people walking around?"

"Alright," Rick said, trying to get their attention once again. "Andrea, you can pair up with T, Jimmy, you're with me, and Glenn, you said something about wanting to be paired with Maggie?"

"I'll just bet he does," Daryl snickered. He hadn't missed the boy's blush when Rick had mentioned the farmer's daughter. And whether he wanted to admit it or not, he was glad Rick was coming to realize he'd rather be out on the search alone instead of paired with anyone else. Carol was the only person he could really stand for any duration, and his skin hummed with anxiety to think of being out there with anyone else. He grabbed his bag and slung his crossbow onto his back, nodding at Carol. "C'mon."

She was still chuckling softly as she fell into step with him. "So … a chupacabra? How did I miss this story?"

He glared at her, not liking it a bit that she didn't believe him. "Y' weren't at dinner that night."

"Oh … yeah," she murmured softly, crossing her arms over her chest. She clearly remembered the night in question. She'd barely spoken two words of greeting to the brothers before Ed had ushered her and Sophia back to their tent, claiming – rather loudly and rudely – that he didn't want his family associating with uneducated redneck trash. "Had you brought a bit of moonshine along with you on that particular hunting trip?"

"I ain't gonna tell y' if y' just want t' make fun o' me," he grumbled, leading the way into the stables.

"I was only teasing, Daryl."

He ducked his head. "There may have been some moonshine involved," he admitted. "But I know what I saw."

That confession sent her into a new fit of laughter. In fact, she was still giggling softly when he'd finished saddling the horse. He didn't care, however. It was too nice … hearing her laugh. It all died away as he approached her, reins gripped tightly in one hand. "I need t' get goin'."

Carol wrapped her arms around his waist and burrowed into the crook of his neck, holding on just a moment longer than necessary. "Please be careful, Daryl." She lifted her face to him, offering her lips, a token of the love she still hid from herself, and he didn't hesitate to capture her mouth in a tender kiss. Her eyes were misty with emotion when he let her go. "Come back to me."

"Y' know I will … an' I'll have our girl with me."

*.*.*

He could almost pretend the world was as it had been, that the dead hadn't risen to consume the living, and the worst he'd have to worry about was a freak rainstorm to ruin a beautiful day out hunting. But he couldn't let his mind wander off into the clouds and lose himself to the tranquility of the forest. He had a job to do, and he couldn't allow himself to fail. And if it was just a normal day, he sure as shit wouldn't be on horseback. He had a basic understanding of riding, but he wasn't what one would call confident in the saddle. There was a lack of control being on the back of a living animal which set his anxiety levels at maximum. And if it was one thing Daryl Dixon couldn't stand, it was not being in control.

He made good time, following the hunting trails – some overgrown, but easy enough to navigate – through the forest, making sure to keep a watchful eye on his surroundings. The only things he encountered were the smallest of woodland creatures … squirrels, rabbits and even once he spotted a hedgehog. But the farther he ventured from the farm, the more difficult it was not to think of Carol. He felt as though he'd left a vital piece of himself back there in the barn with her.

Daryl sighed and headed up the slope onto the ridge which looked down into a deep wide ravine where the creek they'd followed yesterday wound through, shining silver in the sunlight. He shouldn't have left her behind. Being out there alone gave him entirely too much time to get lost inside his own head. If he'd allowed her to accompany him, he'd have had her steady stream of chatter to distract him. Even when she was quiet, he was still focused on her, and didn't have to listen to that voice in his head asking him what the hell he was doing all the time.

He really hadn't meant to be anything more than her friend. It was her fault, he grumbled silently to himself. Her sweet timid smile, a nervous laugh, and the way she looked at him without revulsion or mistrust. She looked at him as if he were a good man, one worthy of her time. It had piqued his interest in those first few days at the quarry. Then he'd noticed the bruises she'd tried so hard to hide from everyone, and he'd known he had to find some way to help her. He hadn't planned to fall in love with her. He yanked firmly on the reins, pulling the beast beneath him to a stop. Love? What the hell did he know about love? God knew he'd never had anyone love him before, never had anyone teach him about that dangerous emotion. He knew pain – his life had been filled with it in its many forms – but never love.

Hell, not even Merle had ever claimed any love for him. He was fiercely protective of his baby brother, but he'd never admit to loving him. Caring, yes. He'd proven it time and again, but that was all Daryl would ever expect. His uncle Drew had cared too, but the Dixon men would never show weakness, and love was weakness. Or so he'd thought. His stomach writhed as if he'd eaten live eels. Was this tenderness he felt so strongly for Carol actually love? He knew it was more than lust, more than just an intense desire to protect her. She was more than capable now of protecting herself. Yet, he found himself physically aching when he couldn't be near her. Was that love? Their connection … he didn't even want to think of what that meant. He'd never felt anything like it, never craved something so powerful, and it scared the hell out of him.

If he weren't careful, the fear would paralyze him. The thought of losing her, not being able to keep her safe … no, he couldn't think like that. Carol was not his weakness. She made him stronger, better. Her touch, her mere presence, chased away the voice in his head forever telling him he wasn't good enough. He didn't want to be the bitter man he'd been before she'd come into his life. Did he love her? He didn't know for sure, but he was determined to find out.

A hint of purple far below had him dismounting and making his way down the steep slope to the creek bed below. Crossbow in hand, he slowly made his way towards the object he'd seen. Feathers … no, a feathered headdress he'd watched his brother and Sophia construct sitting in the dappled sunlight outside of their tent weeks ago. Merle had scoffed at the purple plumage, but had relented when he'd seen how much she wanted them. Sophia – when she wasn't wearing it – kept that memento tucked safely in her pack. Daryl smiled. More breadcrumbs. He took a chance and shouted her name, the sound echoing off the stillness surrounding him, and tucked the little treasure into the hunting sack at his side.

Daryl waited, his sharp eyes taking in everything around him with an air of disappointment when his call wasn't returned. "Damnit, Soph, where th' hell are you?"

He cursed softly under his breath, unable to wait any longer. He set off back towards the incline and within minutes he was mounted once again. Giving the horse a gentle nudge, he followed the trail higher. For once, he was glad he wasn't afraid of heights as he looked down at the steep drop into the ravine below. If he weren't so set on the task of finding Carol's little girl … their girl … he could have appreciated the beauty surrounding him. God's gift of nature to man.

If his gaze hadn't been so focused on the creek below, he might have seen the snake. He might have been able to retain his seat atop the horse. Instead, his grip on the reins loosened as the beast reared, and his balance tilted as he hit the ground, unable to regain his footing in time. His head spun, visions of his past skittering along his mind's eye as he careened down the steep slope to what he was sure would be his death below. His hands reached blindly, trying to snag onto anything which would stop his rapid descent, but he was falling too fast. He felt his stomach churn as his right temple collided with something sharp, but it was nothing compared to the searing pain in his left side. He gnashed his teeth together to stop himself from making a sound, still having the presence of mind to remain silent so as not to draw any unwanted attention.

He splashed down into the creek below, every bone in his body crying out in protest. Though he didn't want to even think about touching the raw flesh of his side, he knew he needed to assess his wound. Shaky fingers ghosted over his screaming flesh, and he wasn't quick enough to bite back the groan forcing itself past his lips. Somehow, one of his bolts had worked its way free of his quiver and pierced him on the way down. "Fuck!" came his ragged whisper. It was funny in that moment he could only think of how pissed Carol would be when he came back bleeding. "So much for bein' careful," he lamented.

Daryl looked up at the steep wall of rock littered with mud and saplings which he'd have to climb. He was lucky he was still alive. Using his knife, he cut the seams on his sleeves and tore them from his shirt. He tied them together, trying to breathe through his pain, and quickly bound his wound. Later, he would try to find the strength to pull the arrow from his torn flesh. He was glad his brother was nowhere to be found. He didn't even want to think of Merle laughing at him for his clumsiness. Hell, he didn't want to think of what the elder Dixon would do to him should he know Daryl had lost Sophia in the first place.

He climbed unsteadily to his feet, cursing the weakness he felt in his legs. His heart stuttered as he reached for his crossbow and found it missing. It must have somehow been wrenched from his back in the fall. Using a long branch to help with his shoddy balance, he began searching the creek where he'd landed. It couldn't have been tossed too far from him. With a bit of dumb luck and sheer strength of will, he found it in the middle of the creek. Thankfully it wasn't damaged. He made it back to the base of the incline, hating the weakness which was pervading his senses. He was losing too much blood, and knew he had to try to make his way back to the farm. Carol would patch him up. She needed him. He couldn't just give in to the pain and lay down to die.

Daryl shook his head to clear it as he pulled himself slowly up the hill. It was taking everything in him to put one foot in front of the other, his mind reeling with yet another failure. He'd promised to be careful. He'd vowed to bring Sophia home today. Instead, he'd been careless and gotten himself injured. How could Carol have faith in him if he couldn't keep his promises? How long would she remain at his side when he failed her time and time again? He fought off the blackness which encroached on the edges of his vision. He couldn't allow himself to give in, focusing instead on the one bright spot in his life. He kept the image of her lovely face in his mind's eye and fought to climb.

It was all too much, his unsure grip on the sapling loosening, his body pitching to the right, and he was falling again, sliding painfully back to the creek bank below. He was dazed when his body finally came to a stop, his vision swimming in and out of focus. He couldn't fight the pain, and he let the black abyss claim him, her name but a whisper on his lips. "Carol …"

A/N: Next time: Carol gives Lori a wake up call, our girl is found, and Carol welcomes them home.