Here's the next chapter! Be thankful because I wrote this even though I have to get up at 6 A.M. tomorrow!

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The next day, Hershel asked the group to go back to their camp outside and they all reluctantly left the comforts of the farmhouse behind. Daryl mumbled all the way down the stairs as T-Dog helped support him out to the tent they had set up for him.

"I can do just fine without all this pamperin'," he growled halfheartedly as they helped him down onto a sleeping bag inside the tent. He felt extra padding beneath him and wondered who was giving up their blanket for him.

"You hush up, Daryl Dixon," Lori said firmly, setting a lantern and a folded blanket next to him for that night. "This is the least we can do for you."

Daryl fell silent, deciding it was better to just get well so he could go back to being independent. He sighed angrily and laid back, ignoring their presence. Soon enough they left him without another word, but Andrew slipped in not moments later holding a book in her hand which she gave him.

"What? No pictures?" Daryl asked her sarcastically as he flipped through the dime-store mystery novel. But he knew he would end up reading it all the same…reading was his secret, guilty pleasure.

Andrea looked at him with an expression he wasn't sure how to read, she looked…guilty?

"Daryl, I am so sorry about yesterday," she said, leaning forward and scrunching her eyebrows together. "I thought you were a Walker, honest! I would never have shot you if I had…"

"YOU shot me?" Daryl suddenly understood her strange behavior. "You bitch!"

He meant it to sound mean and angry but for some reason he couldn't help but think the whole thing was funny since…well there was no hard done really. Andrea looked at him in surprise.

"Yeah, I am so sorry," she restated.

"You were protecting the group," Daryl replied. Andrea nodded and stood up, clearly uncomfortable, then she walked out of the tent.

"Hey!" Daryl called after her, she turned back to listen. "Shoot me again…best pray I'm dead."

She flashed him a grin and then she was gone and he picked up the book from beside him and started in on chapter one.

By the time Carol and Sophia were done doing the day's laundry, cooking and cleaning up of the camp, they had both talked themselves out as well as wore themselves out physically. Sophia began to yawn uncontrollably as they all sat around the campfire telling stories of their pasts, everyone but Daryl.

"Time for bed, sweetie," Carol whispered to her daughter who was leaning against her arm. Sophia answered with another yawn and a tired nod and Carol gently led her to Rick, Lori and Carl's large family sized tent. Sophia was staying there until they found a better way to divide because Carol was currently sharing a small pup tent with Andrea and there was no room for Sophia in there. Carol hated that, after the scare she had, she still woke up and had to remind herself that Sophia was safe in Rick and Lori's tent instead of seeing her right there next to her.

Carl and Lori were already in the tent and they invited Carol and Sophia in to join their little chat, but Carol smiled and refused. She was tired and needed sleep herself.

"Thanks, but I have an early start and I need to go to sleep soon," Carol said, leaning over and kissing Sophia on the top of the head. "G'night, baby. Don't keep Mrs. Grimes and Carl up too late."

"I won't mom," Sophia replied, the tiredness clearly noticeable in her voice. "I love you."

"I love you too," Carol meant it more than she could fathom.

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The nightmare that woke Carol that night caused her to sit straight up with a gasp. She stifled it quickly and glanced at Andrea's sleeping form next to her, she didn't move and her breathing remained steady so Carol sighed with relief at having not woke her. Trembling, Carol pulled her knees to her chest and laid her chin on them, staring into the darkness of the tent.

The nightmare had been terrible, horrifying…but for once, it wasn't about Sophia. It was about Daryl. He had been alone in his tent on the edge of the camp, like always, when a pair of Walkers discovered him. She had been forced by her own mind, her own subconscious, to watch helplessly as the Walkers ripped open the tent door and went inside. She willed her feet to move but when she looked down she saw her ankles were help tightly in the grasp of two eyeless Walkers and she opened her mouth to scream only to find her mouth suddenly covered with a cold, lifeless rotting hand. She looked over at Daryl's tent when the screams started. He was injured, hurt and unable to defend himself and she watched in horror as spatters of blood were silhouetted by the lantern light inside the tent.

Carol shook her head roughly, trying to erase the images from her mind but they stayed firmly planted in there, causing her to lose her breath and gasp in a lungful of air to keep breathing. Her hands were shaking and her muscles were tightly clenched.

She didn't know what possessed her, but she grabbed the baseball bat that she kept next to her bedroll just in case and exited the tent as quietly as possible. She took a moment to let her eyes adjust to the moonlit camp and then moved slowly toward the edge of the tent circle. She scanned every inch of every direction as she made her way to Daryl's tent.

When she finally got there, she hesitated. What am I doing? But then she took hold of the tent zipper and slowly unzipped it. Which she realized was a foolish thing to do when she found herself face to face with the end of Daryl's crossbow.

"Wha' the hell?" he whispered fiercely, "You got a deathwish? You know I shoot first, ask questions later!"

Carol just looked down at the ground sheepishly, suddenly feeling very stupid…but still frightened enough to stay where she was.

"I…I was worried about you," she admitted softly, not meeting his eyes.

"What?" Daryl sounded incredulous, but the crossbow lowered and she felt some of the tension leave the small space they occupied.

Carol sighed and sat down on his bedroll and she was glad when he sat next to her. She looked at him then. His eyes held concern when they met hers, but he was still guarded in the way he was sitting.

"I had a nightmare," Carol admitted, she refused to let her eyes drop like she so wanted to do. She was still trembling slightly and she really felt uncomfortable under his stare, but she was captive by him and so she wanted to look as long as possible. "You…you were attacked by Walkers in here and I couldn't warn you in time. I tried! I tried but they grabbed me and held me and…I watched you die. I was so scared, Daryl."

Daryl's expression was unreadable and a deep silence fell between them as he studied her face intently. It was a long, painful time until he finally shook his head and sighed.

"Well I ain't dead," he replied, sounding tired. "Now go back to sleep."

Carol nodded in defeat and started to rise to make her way back to her tent, but she felt his hand close around her wrist and she looked over in surprise as he pulled her back down. He locked eyes with her as he slowly pushed her down onto the bedroll and turned her onto her right side. He then proceeded to lay behind her. Carols eyes were wide as she felt him slide his right arm under her head and his left arm draped over her side she felt his breath hot on the back of her neck and she stiffened, unsure of what to do.

"Calm down," he said, his voice was low and quiet and there was something in it that made Craol shiver again. "You're so tense all the time."

"I…" Carol swallowed the fear in her throat, "I just worry about everyone."

"Everyone but yourself, I've noticed," Daryl mumbled.

Carol didn't say anything…because he was right and she knew it. They laid there in complete silence, Carol listened to the soft, rhythmic sound of his breathing and she felt the steady beat of his heart against her back where his chest pressed into her.

"I miss music," she finally broke the silence. She didn't know where the heck that came from, but it was true and she had only just realized this fact.

"What brought that up?" Daryl's voice was scratchy with sleepiness and she felt guilty for waking him again.

"I was just thinking of how I use to sing lullabies to Sophia," Carol replied softly, her mind going back to the day she had brought her daughter home from the hospital…and they way Ed hadn't even looked at their new baby as she laid her in the crib. "Ed…never cared for Sophia. She was an accident to him. He hated me for not having the abortion…and I think sometimes that I sang those lullabies for myself just as much as for her."

Unbidden and unexpected, a tear slid down her cheek and she sniffed a little, trying to keep her emotions in check and not freak Daryl out. She knew he was bad with crying women…he never knew quite what to do. But she felt the tear drip off her face and she knew it had landed on his arm because she felt him tense up.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, wiping the tears away from her eyes.

"For what?" Daryl asked in surprise.

"For being this way," Carol whispered. She felt him shift behind her and for a moment she thought he was going to roll over and put his back to her or leave her alone in the tent but then she felt the pad of his thumb on her face and she flinched slightly. But he ran his thumb under her eyes and wiped the new tears off, then that hand pressed to her stomach and pulled her closer to him and she felt her stomach flip in a way she hadn't felt since she had very first met Ed, before she knew he was a monster.

"Ya cry if ya need to this time," Daryl's whisper was firm in her ear. "But this is the last time. I don't want you to waste no more time cryin' over that jackass. From now on, you gotta be strong for your little girl…and for you. No more of this self pitying shit."

So Carol let the tears flow…finally. She had held them for so long, waiting for Sophia's fate to be discovered, waiting until she was free from Ed, waiting to be told that everything was going to be alright. And Daryl just kept holding her close the entire time.

Finally, she had cried all she could and she felt a wave of tiredness sweep over her.

"Thank you, Daryl," she whispered, closing her eyes and relaxing in his arms.

And then, softly in her ear, she heard the most beautiful sound. Daryl had begun to sing, in a surprisingly soft and clear baritone voice. She recognized the song "Hey Jude" as he quietly and slowly sang and he began to rock her gently back and forth, his body rocking with her. It wasn't a lullaby, but it seemed so appropriate coming from him and it was more soothing than anything any classical composer could have written. He wouldn't have won any singing competitions back before the world went to hell, but Carol thought she had never heard a voice so lovely and meaningful as the voice of Daryl Dixon as she drifted off to sleep.

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So…I love this. I had the image of him singing her to sleep in my head for three days and was trying to figure out how to write it and give it justice. I think it came out pretty good! What do y'all think?