The Infirmary was little more than thin mattresses on trollies lined up in a grey room. It was always chilly and still held the faint odour of the disinfectant they eked out to keep it as sanitary as they could . Zack had been moved back to his own cell that morning to be observed regularly by Hershel throughout each day. They had walked in silence through the corridors but Daryl used it to calm himself down. The silence was the type of quiet moments the two of them often shared. They didn't need to be constantly making conversation. Many evenings, they visited each other's cell, passing the time together. Sometimes they would talk, tease each other, and open up gradually about their pasts. Other times, they sat side by side on the bunk, Carol might read, sew, sketch plans for improvements or study medical notes Hershel had made her while Daryl would sharpen his knives, clean his boots or fix up any items given to him by the other inhabitants of the prison.

Once inside the infirmary he eased himself up onto a bed and she gathered together swabs, bandages and antiseptic lotions.

"Take your jacket off," she ordered quietly.

Daryl desperately wanted to lighten the mood a little, he needed to know she wasn't mad at him and that she wasn't upset. He did as he was told and placed it at the end of the bed.

He looked timidly at her while she placed her hand under his chin and raised it to get a better look at his battered face.

"Don't think your nose is broken," she muttered.

"It ain't," he confirmed. "He was too drunk do too much damage."

Carol muttered, "Hmmm," as she applied the disinfectant to cotton buds and began cleaning the blood from grazes to his cheeks.

"Here," he said meekly, opened his legs and manoeuvred her between them so that she was closer and easily able to turn back to the desk for more pads and lotion. He kept his hands on her waist as she tended to him, a hiss escaping from his mouth as the antiseptic got to work.

She worked silently for the most part, but didn't comment on his hands still holding her in place. His eyebrow was cut, and he stared at her as she cleaned it, her expression unreadable. Daryl racked his mind for something to say to elicit a response from her which would include a smile. The thought of her being angry with him or worse, disappointed in him, made him wholly uncomfortable.

"You didn't have to do that," Carol said as she finished up. She hadn't moved from her position. Daryl felt at ease with her closeness for once; he welcomed it. Suddenly it dawned on him, even if she disagreed with his actions today, that she'd probably always be on his side. That was why she'd brought him here to clean him up. He was her problem, much like Glenn was Maggie's. And she was his to defend, she had been since he'd so selflessly looked for her missing daughter. If the girl were here now, they'd both have his protection. They were already a couple of sorts, only needing to take that final step across the line to opening up about their feelings, becoming lovers and making it official.

He felt the stirrings of excitement at having her between his legs and his dick began to grow stiff. Immediately he felt slightly inappropriate, but he was human, he was attracted to this woman and his reactions were entirely natural. They looked at each other, but both felt unworthy of the other, unaware that each of them was falling deeper and harder, unable to admit it to themselves.

"Couldn't help it. He riled me up." He explained, his eyes on her mouth. "Why didn't you tell me about this last night?" He asked, his soft voice wondering, looking back to the blue orbs of her eyes.

She bit her lower lip. "Honestly? I just couldn't bring myself to." She sighed, "After Zack's accident, it didn't seem the right time to add to the worry. Now here you are, hurt from fighting your best friend over nothing." She was still trying to stem the blood from his eyebrow.

"Hey," he started, catching her busy hand, "It wasn't over nothin'. Not in my book. You're allowed to make a big deal outta stuff, don't always have to be so reasonable. Ain't no shame in gettin' mad at assholes." He wished he could add that he would take on the world for her, because he would fight even God himself if she was hurt or upset.

They studied each other and he released her hand though she still looked thoughtful and not entirely happy with him.

Daryl spoke softly, "You can tell me anythin', whenever you need to. I'm always gonna be here for you," His eyes travelled back to her mouth, "I'm sorry it upset you. Rick makin' a pass, me fightin'. All of it."

"You don't have to apologise, but you could have got hurt. I don't want you to get hurt. Ever," she replied, finishing up his eye. They both knew she was the only person he'd ever apologise to, even if he wasn't in the wrong. He was too stubborn to admit he was sorry to anyone else. He was warmed by her words, they added fuel to his hope that she could feel the same as him.

She applied antiseptic once more and added, "You know I'm here for you too." He nodded, but winced. His head ached from the anger earlier and the blows he'd received.

Carol reached for his jacket, "You'll have some tasty bruises on that pretty face of yours." She teased in her sexy, sassy tone and instantly he knew all was well.

"Stop," he fired back as he always did. She chuckled.

"Hey, what's this weight in your pocket?" she asked, fingering the jasper stone through his jacket.

He stood, taking the jacket. She was still in front of him, they were still close, closer than they'd ever been, their lower bodies touching, though Daryl tried not to dwell on that, lest his excitement began to show. "This," he said reaching in and grasping the object "Is jasper. A stone. Found out on the run. Reminded me of….here, home. So I kept it. You can have it, if you want. It's a pretty colour." He almost told her how it reminded him of her.

Carol smiled her little smile. "And thought you were hoarding chocolate in there," She looked back at him, "You already gave me a flower, before. You keep it," she nodded to the stone in his hand and wrapped his fingers around it with her own hand. They both knew she had the original Cherokee Rose pressed inside her favourite book as a keepsake; he'd spotted it on one of his visits to her cell. "If you have that, it'll remind you of what you have here, a home, a family, waiting for you when you're out on the road, something to come back to." Her voice was gentle and a sweet, genuine smile played at her mouth.

His earlier longing for someone to return to flashed in his mind and he knew he already had that special someone, even if she didn't realise that she had the same in him.

Daryl placed the stone back in his pocket, and put his jacket on. He lightly kissed the top of her head and closed his eyes, his arms resting on her shoulders, taking in the words she'd just said. Her hands snaked around his waist. She could hardly believe the amount of touching, and wondered if this was dream.

They embraced like that for a few minutes. Almost revealing the words he longed to tell her, he felt the them forming around his tongue, echoing through his mind, but at the last second his demons reared their ugly heads and he lost his nerve once again.

"I'll come along to you later," he said, above her head, instead of what he wished he could say, "You show me those plans you were working on the other night?"

She moved out of his space and started tidying up. "Sure thing, Pookie," she replied. He felt the familiar thrill of her calling him his pet name, especially since he had found out what it meant from Zack. He gently kissed her forehead again, one hand cupping her neck gently and left.

If Carol had been in one of the romance books she'd found to read, she would have swooned at their latest exchange complete with spontaneous and unsolicited physical signs of affection from her surly redneck friend. "Keep it together, woman," she scolded herself, as she ran a hand through her hair and smoothed down her top to compose herself. The box in her mind rattled closer to the edge of the shelf.