Walking Dead 1. Chapter 1

He wanted to start over, simple as that. They'd been handed a second chance in a world that didn't give second chances and he wasn't about to waste it, waiting for the pieces to finally fall into place. He'd let his ass drag in the dirt long enough, ignoring the pull in his chest whenever she was near. No-one knew if they'd get a tomorrow anymore and honestly, he was sick of denying his feelings any longer.

Finally, he knew exactly what he wanted.

Since that first moment he'd seen her, standing in that clearing with a rifle slung over one shoulder and his crossbow hanging from the other Daryl was determined not to lose the second chance he'd been given. He wanted to do things over…do things right, just like she deserved.

Carol had been dealt a shitty hand; they both had. Daryl knew they both deserved more than what life had given them so far.

For some reason the universe had seen fit to give him a second shot with her and no way was he going to fuck that up. Problem was, he didn't know the first thing about what he wanted to do, not really. He understood the logistics of it, but the execution of that was beyond him. Charming women had never been his strong suit. He wanted to start over, do things how they ought to be done, but he had no fucking clue how to even approach something like that, so he settled for making the only moved forward he knew how; doing what good guys were supposed to do.

What he knew about wooing women could fit on the back of a matchbook. He had no game. He didn't know the rules - didn't know how to play at all. Hell, he'd known that sad fact since he was an awkward teenager struggling to get two words out whenever in a pretty girl was in the same room. Most guys outgrew that stage of nervous shuffling and tied tongues but he never did.

Outwardly, he was a man in his forty's. Inside, he was still that skittish kid that had never asked a girl out on a date before. It would have been fucking obvious to a blind man that he didn't know what the hell he was doing when it came to the woman standing before him right now.

He'd told her he wanted to start over. Shit, surely she could have heard the message he was sending loud and clear. He hadn't meant just her with the group; he meant her and him. Do things right. Stop dancing around on eggshells and just admit what they both wanted...

A chance. Together. They were both so wounded by the past that neither wanted to risk losing what they had now, but the hazy middle ground they stumbled over now wasn't enough.

Daryl wanted more. He wanted _her._ Like they should have been all along.

He wasted too much time, waiting for her to be ready…for him to feel worthy of her. It was the time to acknowledge there was more between them than just friendship. What they shared ran deeper than that. She hadn't picked up on his subtle hints though, so he'd gone with the next best thing that popped into his mind. He decided then and there to do the chivalrous thing and do the heavy lifting.

It was an innocent offer…the sort of thing a nice guy, a man of _honour _would do.

Daryl was ready to be Carol's man of honour, he just didn't know how to let the woman involved know that.

He offered to carry a jug of water. A simple, old-fashioned gesture to show he wanted to lighten her load; to take care of her the only way he could think how. Not saying that she was weak; he knew she was a force to be reckoned with. Offering to help carry something was what guys used to do for girls, back before the world as they knew it ceased to exist. He'd watched plenty of guys back in high school do just that for their own girls. Daryl wanted to do that for his girl now.

He was just trying to be a gentleman…women liked that sort of shit, right?

Carol made him nervous as all hell now, ever since she had stepped back into his life less than twenty-four hours ago.

The fact that he was already holding something completely slipped his mind as he started reaching for the jug in her hand. By the time he realized his mistake it was too late to stop and the smooth move he had hoped to pull off had careened out of control like a peak hour five-car pileup on the freeway; a mangled mess of horror and carnage you couldn't help but stare at as it unfolded right before your eyes.

He should have checked he wasn't holding anything before offering to help, that would have been the smart thing to do…

When it came to Carol his sense of logic went right out the window.

He was such a fucking idiot. Daryl wanted to kick his own ass the second that jug slipped through his fingers and landed on the ground at her feet. Not just slipped; he had been so eager to help that he'd practically thrown the jug in her direction. Daryl watched helplessly as the jug hit the ground, splashing its contents over both their boots and wasting valuable drinking water in the process.

Time ceased when the jug hit the dirt, sending a puff of dust and broken leaves skyward before the contents sloshed out over the rim. He couldn't believe he'd pulled such an amateur move.

Thirteen year old boys everywhere were crying out in pain at the blunder.

Their eyes met, and he saw instantly she was doing her best not to laugh. It was the same pursed expression she'd pulled back that first night at the prison when she asked if he wanted to screw around. God help him, it was cute. The word had never been in his vocabulary before but that's how she looked standing there, fighting the urge to smile at his fumbling attempt to help.

Daryl never thought he'd apply that word to a warrior like Carol but starting over meant approaching things differently and in that second, the sight of her trying to hold back a smile – a smile he was responsible for putting on her face no less - was cute. More than cute…it made him smile too.

All he wanted to do was carry the water for her…hell, he'd sweep her up in his arms and carry her back to the church if that's what she wanted.

He slapped his palm to his face, trying to hide the blush that was in danger of overtaking every inch of his skin. Just because he'd made her smile didn't make him feel any less of an unco-ordinated idiot.

When he'd looked over at her again, she was finally smiling. Any action that made her face light up like that couldn't be all bad, he decided. Maybe he wasn't so bad at this whole wooing thing after all. He'd felt her eyes on him as he scooped up the jug and continued as if the whole incident had never happened. Daryl let her move forward first, determined to salvage as much of his new chivalrous act as possible.

Maybe he had game and maybe he didn't, but if it meant keeping Carol smiling like that he'd keep up whatever the hell he was doing because he was sure it was starting to work.

**A/N: Thank you for taking the time to read this piece. I've been inspired by the water jug mating throw of Daryl Dixon, so I've decided to write a series of one shots, all involving different scenarios of our resident redneck trying to by chivalrous and helpful with Carol. He may fail, he may not, we'll just see how this plays out. Some chapters will be inspired by direct Caryl scenes, but others will be completely my own thoughts and ideas. I hope you decide to stick around for the ride.**


	2. Wanna Dance?

The small campfire Carl managed to construct gave off barely any warmth but it bathed the clearing with a soft, golden glow that kept the shadows at bay. Game had been scarce on the ground, meaning there had been no chance to bag a hot meal to fill their empty stomachs. Luckily, the pecans distributed courtesy of Tyreese and Carol provided adequate food to starve off hunger for another night at least.

After fleeing Terminus, the only one of them with much of an appetite was Judith. It was probably a good thing there wasn't anything other than pie filling available to eat that night…anything more substantial would more than likely have come straight back up.

Daryl sat on the edge of the assembled group, his elbows resting on bent knees as he stared into the dancing flames of their pitiful fire. So much had happened in the last day. He was still processing the events that had led him to where he was now, alive and in one piece.

He thought his number was up, kneeling on the floor of that slaughterhouse with Rick on one side and Glenn on the other. So many regrets had whirled though his mind when the bastard with the bat started throwing practice swings, but his biggest regret had to do with the woman banished before the shit had really hit the fan.

He'd just always figured she'd be there. All it took was one spur of the moment decision from Rick and she was gone. Cut out of their family like she was nothing. He'd lost her so many times before then, but this time had been different. He had been different when he thought she was gone.

Daryl had been too busy wallowing in self-pity after the fall of the prison to sit back and take stock of the situation. The one thing he should have trusted was that if there was one person who was going to survive this world now, it was Carol.

Those nine lives of hers had taken a beating since the world went to shit but mercifully, she hadn't cashed in all of them just yet.

Carol had saved all their asses, storming Terminus with guns blazing like she was Sarah Connor or some shit. He'd connected the dots well enough to know she went in there singlehanded and helped orchestrate the events that led to their escape. She'd survived after Rick sent her packing and now she was back, tough as nails and stronger than ever.

Every last person sitting in the clearing now owed Carol a debt they could never begin to repay.

He'd always known she could hold her own, but from what he saw of her handiwork at Terminus, Carol was something else. She was a force to be reckoned with.

He never thought he'd see her again after what Rick had done but Daryl had to admit, he owed the man. If Rick hadn't of sent her away, Carol would have been there when the Governor tore the place down. She could have been the one beyond the gates instead of Hershel that morning…

Losing the older man had been a cruel blow, but the thought of losing her in such a manner damn-near stopped the hunter's heart. He shuddered just thinking about what could have happened to her if things had played out differently.

It wasn't lost on Daryl that if Carol hadn't shown up when she did and done what she'd done, he wouldn't have made it to see another night again. Kneeling before that trough, he'd thought his time was up. He would have been strung up and bled out like some hog in an abattoir, with those assholes carving out a chuck of him to serve for Sunday dinner.

It was fucking sick, what those pricks at Terminus had planned to do to them. People were just meat for the table, nothing more. Thinking about what almost happened made bile rise in his throat, the taste settling on his tongue as he sat there staring into the flames.

He quickly shoved a pecan into his mouth, trying desperately to mask the sour taste with the only thing available.

No matter how hard he chewed…how long he let the morsel roll around his tongue, that sharp, sickening bitterness remained on the edge of his palette, refusing to budge. Reminding him of just how close he came to biting the big one only hours ago.

It went against all odds but here they were, sitting around a campfire and sharing a handful of pecans like this night was no different from any other before it. In a way, it wasn't a whole lot different. Since the Governor rolled up to the prison this was what life was now, scavenging for enough food to keep them going until the next meal and looking for a safe place to rest a few hours.

Daryl raised his eyes from the fire to find the subject of his recent train of thought standing at the edge of the light on the other side of the clearing, her head bowed together with Rick's as they quietly spoke. Didn't take a genius to work out what the topic of conversation over in that neck of the woods was. It didn't matter what Rick was saying to her though, as far as Daryl was concerned she was staying put with them from here on out. No more bullshit about separating or banishment. They were a family and family stuck together, no matter what.

They'd lost enough people already; he wasn't about to risk losing her again.

A movement in the corner of his eye captured the hunter's attention, causing him to snap his head sharply to the left. His hand shot to the crossbow resting by his side, his fingers brushing over the cold metal of the frame. After the shitstorm they'd managed to survive in the last twenty-four hours, he wasn't about to let them get taken out by a stray walker or Terminus resident looking for a pound of flesh, revenge or otherwise.

Focusing his gaze, Daryl found it wasn't a walker that had caught his eye. He withdrew his hand from the crossbow, letting the weapon fall back amongst the dried leaves of the forest floor as he watched the scene unfold before him.

Bob was standing near the fire, trying to tug Sasha to her feet and failing miserably with the attempt. The woman stubbornly kept her ass glued to the ground, chuckling as she half-heartedly swatted the smiling man away. Despite her argument, Bob continued his effort to convince her to stand. Seemed like the man enjoyed a challenge, judging by the amused smile plastered across his face. The struggle continued briefly until the former medic won out, successfully managing to drag the woman to her feet until she was standing with him. He wrapped his arms around her waist, drawing her close. Feet started shuffling and soon the pair was swaying together in the firelight, Sasha's head resting on Bob's shoulder as they moved back and forth like tree branches blowing in the breeze.

Daryl discretely watched the couple from the under the cover of his matted hair. As misplaced as it was - seeing two people moving to a silent beat in the middle of the forest - there was also something right about the scene. It just fit, like two pieces of a puzzle finally being brought together. The pair of them laughed as Bob swung Sasha, sending a cloud of dust and leaves skyward.

Must be nice, having someone special to share something as simple as a dance with. His whole life, Daryl hadn't had anything like that.

He envied the ease they had with one another. They made it look so simple, so natural. Daryl had never felt like that with anyone. The closest he ever came to feeling that sort of contentment was when he was with Carol, but it wasn't as simple as Bob and Sasha made it look. When he'd thrown his arms around Carol earlier that day in the woods it had felt right, but the manoeuvre had been awkward; Daryl didn't know much about women but he realized things were supposed to move smoother than that. He hadn't known what to touch or where to hold her. He remembered lifting her off the ground at one point, the action making her giggle and she'd leant further into his chest in response.

In a way, that hug had been just like a dance. One moved in one direction, the other followed. Daryl wondered if all hugs were like that; a dance that became choreographed with time and practice.

Not for the first time since that first moment back in the woods, Daryl couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like to hold Carol in his arms again. To feel curled around him, holding her to him because she wanted him that close.

It had been the only real hug he'd ever initiated. For a first try, he figured it didn't go too badly. He'd gotten his arms around the girl without any trouble and she'd let him hold her, even going so far as to return the embrace. He never thought any woman would let him touch her like that but, not for the first time in his life, Daryl had been wrong. Her arms had snaked tightly around his back without hesitation the moment he'd crashed into her and she'd held on to him just as tightly as he had her. She hadn't pushed him away or shuddered when his hand cupped the back of her head. She let him hold her, like Sasha was letting Bob hold her.

Like two pieces of a puzzle that fit together perfectly.

What surprised Daryl most about the hug was that, even though he had been gulping for breath and hadn't been able stand still to save his life, having Carol in his arms felt right…like that was how they were supposed to be all along.

He'd been watching the pair for a solid minute when he realized something. Daryl longed to be where Bob was, but it wasn't Sasha that the hunter wanted to be dancing with; it was Carol. He wanted to feel Carol in his arms again, to relive their earlier embrace when she'd appeared in the post-haze of Terminus. He wanted to laugh with her, touch her, for no reason other than he craved her proximity.

Daryl watched as the happy couple continued to swing and sway around the fire until Tyreese stepped up and tapped Bob on the shoulder, ceasing the impromptu dance. The medic graciously stepped aside, effortlessly spinning Sasha into her brother's open arms in the process. Tyreese managed to catch his sister and keep her upright as he swung her around the clearing, the pair of them laughing as they moved. For a man his size, Tyreese was surprisingly light on his feet. The sound of leaves crunching underfoot filled the air as the siblings twirled, picking their way around the scattered bodies encompassing the fire.

His gaze drifted past the chuckling siblings to land back on Carol, done talking with Rick and now sitting on the opposite side of the clearing. The woman had distanced herself from the others, choosing to settle further away from what little heat the flames offered. He watched her through the flickering flames, taking note of how the yellow and orange light played across her features. At that moment, he thought she was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. She was strong and confident and didn't take shit from anybody.

Didn't hurt that she'd saved his life neither. She was something else. She was special.

It dawned on the hunter as he sat watching her, he wanted more from Carol than whatever the hell was between them now. He wanted to be with Carol like Bob was with Sasha, or Glenn was with Maggie. He didn't just want to hold her briefly, he wanted to hold her from here on out.

When he thought about it, it had always been Carol…he just hadn't been able to admit to himself what he really wanted. He'd wasted enough time, dancing around what was right in front of him from the start. Problem was, he didn't have any clue how to go from how they were now into something more. Something stronger.

Ever since he'd first laid eyes on her earlier that day, Daryl hadn't been able to look away. For once in his life, he didn't _want_ to look away.

"You should have kissed her." The sound of Bob's voice so close to Daryl's ear startled the normally observant hunter, making him jump and scaring the daylights out of him.

"The fuck?" Daryl grunted, annoyed that someone with as little stealth as Bob had managed to get the drop on him so easily. He glanced around, checking if Bob's words had gathered any attention but it appeared everyone was too wrapped up watching the dancing duo move around the forest floor to pay them any mind.

The redneck scowled at the man towering over him. "What the hell you talking about?" he spat, giving Bob his most scathing glare.

The grinning man dropped down beside Daryl, completely un-phased by the vibe the hunter was putting out. Bob nodded across the fire towards where Carol had separated herself from the rest of the group. "Back there, in the woods. If you were gonna make a move that was the time to do it."

"You should mind your own damn business," Daryl muttered, his face burning. He ducked his head, attempting to hide the growing blush. Had it really been that obvious that Bob had seen what was between them before Daryl had even realized it was there?

"Yeah, I probably should mind my own business," Bob conceded, rocking backwards on his heels, "but I won't," he added, grinning smugly. "The good thing about no more T.V. is, I get to watch people instead. Know you…watching _you_, watching _her_…her watching you when you don't know she's watching," he jerked his chin towards the woman sitting on the opposite side of the fire. Daryl's head shot up at Bob's words and his eyes went straight to her. Sure enough, Carol ducked her own head down in response, apparently embarrassed at being caught with her eyes on him.

The former medic chuckled, plucking a twig from the ground and twilling it in his fingers. "You two are adorable, skirting around each other like that. Best show I've seen in a while."

"You ain't using us as your own damn soap opera." Daryl cursed inwardly the moment the words left his mouth. Why'd he have to say _us_ like that…like they were already something? The guy was like a dog with a bone when he got an idea. Mistakes like that would only serve to give Bob ammunition.

"If this was a soap opera you definitely would have kissed her and had a busload of kids by now," chuckled Bob. "But it _would_ take six months for you to finish eating that pecan I see you still chewing, so maybe this ain't so different from a show after all."

Daryl quickly swallowed the last remaining morsels of pecan he'd been swirling around his mouth. "Cable's been out for a long time. Ain't nothing for you to watch 'round here no more."

"I wouldn't say that. I've been watching the Carol and Daryl show ever since that first day you and Glenn brought me through those prison gates."

Daryl felt the heat warming his face intensify. Bob had been watching them that long? How the hell did he manage to work out something Daryl had only just begun to recognise? Just because he'd come to a realisation about Carol didn't mean he wanted to sit there, painting his nails and gabbing about feelings with the guy.

"Why don't you try botherin' someone else?" Daryl huffed, desperate to end the uncomfortable conversation. He gestured towards Tyreese and Sasha. "Go cut in or somethin'?"

Bob smiled softly and shook his head. "Nah, man. My girl's dance card is full right now. But," the man paused, scanning the people around the fire, "just 'cause I'm happy to be a wallflower don't mean you gotta be one too." His head stopped moving when his gaze finally settled on Carol. Bob jerked his chin towards the woman responsible for saving their collective asses. "Ask her to dance. If you're thinking of making a move, this is as good a time as any. We don't know what tomorrow's gonna bring. Make something good out of the bad. I took a chance with Sasha, letting her know how I felt. Best decision I ever made," he said, the smile never leaving his face as he spoke. "You missed your chance earlier today. Don't let another opportunity slip by is all I'm sayin'…" Bob left the sentiment hanging in the air as his eyes followed the still-moving Tyreese and Sasha.

The hunter listened to the words the other man spoke as he kept his eyes trained on Carol. Could it really be that easy? Just tell her how he felt, how she made him feel. A hug was one thing, but putting himself out there like that was an entirely foreign concept to the redneck. He'd be working without a net, pulling a move like that. Daryl had never before sided up to a woman and asked 'Wanna dance?'

It sounded simple, but the idea was a lot more complex than Bob was making it out to be.

"Like I said back at Terminus, we gotta take a chance." Bob straightened, raising back to his full height. "Maybe the chance you take is a simple as taking the first step forward across the camp. We all deserve a little happiness." He flashed the hunter a parting grin before turning and moving across the clearing towards where Carl and Michonne sat together, cooing at a gurgling Judith.

Daryl let Bob's words sink in as he watched the other man retreat. His initial embarrassment at the man's chosen topic of conversation ebbed away the longer he mulled over everything Bob had said.

The former medic wasn't wrong. None of them knew how much time they had on the clock anymore. Carol had saved their lives…she deserved more than an awkward hug and the shy glances he'd been throwing her way. Asking Carol to dance was a big step, especially with the gawking audience gathered. He wasn't confident enough to strut across the clearing and casually ask her something like that. After their hug, all eyes would be on them and every move they made from now on, judging from Bob's less-than-subtle commentary on the subject.

He didn't need to broadcast his intentions across the entire campsite. There was no way he was going to embarrass her with a dumbass move like that. Drawing attention would be the last thing she would want after everything that had happened already. Carol hated when all eyes were looking her way, Daryl knew her well enough to understand that.

If he was going to do something, it had to be when they were alone. Daryl made a decision as he sat there, his eyes settling on the woman across the fire from him. Wherever she went, he went. No more separating. He would be alone with her whenever he could. When it was just the two of them, he'd man-up and somehow find a way to let her know how he felt.

Now she was back, he was going to make sure to start moving forward. Not a full-blown dance, just one step at a time. No more of this holding pattern bullshit. He'd start off small, doing something that meant something…help her out somehow.

Rick walked past, signalling to Daryl it was his turn to take watch. There wasn't any time for dancing now, even if he had the balls to ask her something like that. Daryl caught Carol's eye as he stood, nodding once as he took a step away from the warmth of the fire and out into the shadows of the forest. She understood his silent request, standing also and grabbing her rifle in the process. She would take watch with him. It wasn't dancing, but the move was choreographed better than any other he had at his disposal.

It was his first chance to spend some time with her, alone. He wasn't about to make a move as Bob had put it, but being there with her, _for her_, was something; a way to show he cared. Daryl wanted to start over. To take that first step forward. One day, he'd ask her to dance. First, he had to learn how to walk before he could run.

**A/N: Thanks for reading. Even though this is the second chapter, this scene takes place before chapter one (I was inspired after the first chapter, what can I say?) Sorry it's out of order. My bad.**

**I was inspired with Bob-feels after, well…you know (not talking about it, not talking about it). I couldn't resist having Bob be the one to start planting ideas in Daryl's head about how it was time to make a move on Carol. Not only that, but I could totally see Bob pulling Sasha up to dance around the campfire. I couldn't see Daryl just walking over and asking her to dance, so instead he decides to start showing her how he feels (in my mind, this then led to him offering to carry the jug of water). **

**Thanks again for reading, I hope you enjoyed!**


	3. Just Take the Damn Thing!

He held his jacket and vest out to Carol, shaking the balled-up combination of denim and leather as if to entice the woman to take the damned thing. She had to be cold, walking around with nothing more than a thin button-down to provide warmth. He knew his jacket wasn't anything special to look at; both elbows were torn out, the back was riddled with holes, there was a thick layer of grime covering every last square inch but despite all the cons, the one pro was that the denim was warm and insulated against the harsh chill of the night air. Add to that the worn, comfortable leather of his vest and the combination was like having your own personal furnace.

"Go on…take it," Daryl hissed, the sharp words sounding like an order instead of an offer.

It had been his third attempt to try and coax Carol into the warmer clothes since they'd started walking further into the city, but every time he asked she just kept her eyes trained forward as she led him through the darkened streets of downtown Atlanta. They'd ditched the tapped-out car and set out on foot, Carol taking point through the maze of streets and leading them closer to somewhere secure to hole up 'til dawn. She'd said it was only a few blocks away…that had been a few blocks ago. Daryl hadn't spent that much time in the city and he had no idea where she was headed but that didn't matter none; wherever she went, he went, no questions asked.

Now here they were, scurrying through unfamiliar terrain in the dead of the night, trying to dodge any threats - living or dead - the shadows might be hiding. Just 'cause he couldn't see what was out there didn't mean he couldn't hear the low snarls hot on their tail. The dead fuckers were close…they just hadn't nailed down the exact location of the fresh meat in their midst. If that wasn't enough shit to deal with the temperature had been steadily dropping by the minute as if Mother Nature herself was saying it was time to get the hell out of Dodge. The cold nipped at their heels, chasing relentlessly as they moved further and further in to the unfamiliar city depths.

If the rapidly cooling air was bothering him then Carol sure as shit had to be feeling it's effects too. The subtle shake of her shoulders every so often was a dead giveaway that the woman was freezing her ass off but was for some reason determined to suffer in silence. Lord knew how long it would be before they got where they were going and until then Carol was stuck wandering about this gigantic deep-freeze that passed for a city.

He'd never tried giving a woman his jacket before and frankly, Daryl had no idea how the hell he was supposed to go about it. From what he'd remembered of those old movies his ma watched, women always took a guy's coat the moment they stepped outside. Didn't matter if it was the middle of summer or the dead of winter, as soon as it got dark a man automatically gave the girl the coat right off his back, smiling all the while. It was simple; if it was cold you sucked it up, grew a pair and suffered through it so your girl was taken care of. That was just how the world was supposed to work.

"Come on, take it," he tried again, shaking the balled-up pile of fabric Carol's way.

"I'm fine," she answered, her pace never faltering.

Judging by her refusal to take the offered items, it looked like Carol hadn't been a huge fan of those old black and white movies from before the Turn. There wasn't any way Carol was as _fine_ as she claimed. All he wanted to do was look after her...why'd it have to be such an uphill battle to get her to accept any help?

Daryl didn't get what the holdup was. He was trying to do the right thing here, be a good guy like in those old movies. It was his spur of the moment decision that landed them in this situation, following that car with the white cross painted on the back window as it disappeared into the night. Now here they were, stranded in the middle of Atlanta with no food, no water, no shelter and no ride. All because he needed to stay glued to her side instead of sending her back to the safety of the church.

It was stupid, dragging Carol along. Losing Beth was his mess to clean up. When the cross car had sped by he hadn't thought twice; his knee-jerk reaction was to follow the people responsible for taking one of their family members. It hadn't entered his head to get Carol out of harm's way. All he knew was when they weren't together, shit always seemed to go wrong.

Now that she was back with them no way was he letting her out of his sight, not after realizing how he felt about her. It was selfish, wanting to keep her close; he knew that. Now because of his selfishness she was stuck wandering through a city inhabited by the dead, playing a twisted game of cat and mouse with the shuffling corpses drawing closer with each passing second.

While the stubborn woman claimed she was okay with only that thin shirt standing between her and the chilly night air, Daryl knew that was a bald-faced lie. It hadn't escaped his attention that certain parts of her were definitely feeling the effects of prolonged exposure to the rapidly dropping temperatures. The body could be a nasty traitor sometimes, particularly when the cold came into play. Daryl knew dick about women but there was one thing universally known by men; twin parts of a woman's body always reacted to the cold in exactly the same way.

From what Daryl could see out the corner of his eye, there was no denying Carol was freezing her ass off. Well, maybe ass was the wrong word…

He wanted to be the good guy here, the sort of guy she deserved after everything she'd already dealt with, the sort of guy that offered his girl the jacket straight off his own back…didn't make him blind though.

"Would you just take the damn thing!" he tried again, frustration getting the better of him as he thrust the jacket towards the stubborn woman.

"Keep it. You need it more," she said, refusing to look his way as she spoke.

He snorted, the sound sharp against the deserted street. "Yeah, right." He was trying to be a gentleman here, but it was hard to be the sort of good guy she deserved when he couldn't peel his eyes off her chest. A compromise suddenly struck him that would benefit the both of them and finally convince Carol to stop being so stubborn.

"You take the jacket, I keep the vest," he offered, silently praying this time it would work.

"We're almost there. I'm fine."

_I'm fine_. Again with the fucking _I'm fine_. Daryl was getting sick of hearing those two words. What the hell kind of answer was that anyway? He sighed, frustration getting the better of him when her pace quickened and she pulled out several steps ahead. The only bright spot was that, with her pulling forward the twin distractions he'd been hypnotised by with were now out of his line of sight. Last thing he needed was to let some walker get the drop on them, just 'cause he was too busy ogling Carol's tits like some kind of horny kid. Didn't matter how much farther it was to this joint she knew. Their current distance from a safe place to crash didn't change the fact that Carol was wandering around the city wearing only a flimsy button-down for protection against the cold. If she stayed exposed to the freezing night air much longer she'd be in serious danger of catching pneumonia. No way in Hell she was _fine_. It was his fault that she was stuck here now, walking through a city inhabited by the dead. All he wanted was to help her. Women were supposed to like it when guys gave up their jackets for them, didn't they? It was supposed to be romantic or some shit.

The night was dark, but not dark enough to hide the pattern of the top she was wearing underneath that thin shirt as she strutted on ahead. If he could see clear through it then sure as shit the cold could seep through. God, how he wished she'd just taken the damned jacket and vest when he offered. He could freeze his ass off. It didn't matter if he was cold, so long as she was okay.

Why was this shit always so hard to do when he tried his hand at it?

Daryl shook his head, huffing with annoyance as he finally admitted defeat. Damn it, he knew her better than that. Carol would suffer so that others were taken care of. All the time he'd known her, she was never one to put herself first. Carol was stubborn and she was determined not to burden anyone with her problems. He should have known better than to expect her to wear it while he went without. That just wasn't who she was.

He could have kicked his own ass for being so stupid.

Quickly he shoved his arms back into the jacket and vest, tugging the denim back into place as he walked. It didn't sit right, him being warm when he knew she was too stubborn to accept his help but there wasn't anything to gain from him acting like a martyr either.

This trying to be a gentleman wasn't as easy as those old movies made it look. All he could do was keep trying to be the sort of good guy she deserved. No way was he giving up yet. He was just going to have to find some other way to help her, jacket or no jacket.

**A/N: Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I've been whittling away at this chapter for months now, never able to get it just right. I always liked the thought of Daryl trying to be a gentleman and offering his jacket to Carol that night but since he arrived at the shelter wearing it we know that didn't happen. I'm sure he'll find lots of other ways to be a gentleman with her though ;)**


	4. Helicopter Hunter

It hadn't escaped Carol's attention that she had developed a second shadow in the last two days. A tall, redneck-shaped, crossbow-wielding shadow to be exact.

Sometimes he was subtle about the endeavour, staying by her side and keeping pace as they walked through the woods. Other times, subtly seemed like a foreign concept to the normally stealthy man. The skilled tracker she has come to know so well disappeared in the blink of an eye, instead replaced by a fumbling, awkward stranger too concerned with watching her path than paying attention to his own.

The tell-tale crunch of brittle leaves sounding behind her was a dead giveaway he was hot on her trail.

If Daryl wasn't visible in her periphery then he was nearby, out of sight but always watching. The feeling of observant eyes following her every move was impossible to ignore.

Daryl was going out of his way to watch her, to watch_over_ her. Carol wasn't blind nor was she ignorant; she had been aware for some time that Daryl's eyes had a habit of following her as she moved, whether it be within the safety of the prison fences or the uncertainty of the open road. His new-found habit of hovering was unlike how he'd watched her in the past though. Judging from the way he carried on with the charade, the man was under the impression he was being quite stealthy in his surveillance.

He wasn't. Carol had been onto him since the beginning. Daryl was an expert tracker but he had forgotten to cover his own tracks when it came to her.

Watching, always watching.

The constant vigil reminded her of those helicopter parents from before the Turn, the ones that didn't believe their child could survive the harsh rigours of grade school without a little outside assistance. She remembered those parents vividly, lined up at school events with a cell phone in one hand and a large coffee in the other, chatting amongst themselves with one eye trained on every minute move their child made. Lying in wait, itching to save the day lest little Johnny or Jessie couldn't handle some mundane task on their own. Those parents and their inability to cut the cord had made Carol cringe. They were always on guard, ready to swoop in and face off with whatever the apparent threat of the day was, regardless of it being a fanatical soccer coach, an over-zealous dance teacher or some kid that looked at little Junior the wrong way.

The way Daryl had taken to hovering around her and noting her every move distinctly mimicked the flight pattern of those long-dead helicopter parents, though the threats he watched for were more complicated than those neurotic busybodies of long ago could ever have imagined.

That first night after escaping Terminus, Carol had felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, alerting her the conversation she was having with Rick had piqued another's interest. A quick glance around the camp confirmed the identity of their eavesdropper: Daryl. She'd spotted the hunter just in time to catch his gaze flicker from her and back to the fire, trying unsuccessfully to cover the fact he'd been caught listening to the exchange. Far from the silent surveillance being unsettling, Carol found it comforting to know he still had her back, just like he always had. The rest of the night he'd had eyes on her no matter what she did or where she went. When it was his turn to take watch he'd jerked his chin, silently invited her to come along with.

The hunter had been attentive, going out of his way to make sure she was okay, trying to get her to speak to him, draw her into conversation but always mindful not to push too hard.

The Daryl Dixon she first met at the quarry wasn't the sort to talk about feelings…actually he hadn't been the sort to talk to anyone, but the world as it was now had changed them all. There was no going back to the people they used to be. The Daryl Dixon she remembered from the quarry wasn't the sort of guy to carry a water jug or offer a woman the coat right off his back either. Something was off with the man she knew so well, Carol just couldn't place her finger on what exactly had changed since she last saw him.

Several times, Carol had caught herself thinking that Daryl was treating her as if she were made from glass; something fragile and delicate that needed handling with kid gloves lest it crack under pressure. Ed had also treated Carol like she was glass but his approach had been to make her feel as if she was transparent, not delicate. Where Daryl was gentle, Ed was hard, trying to break his wife with punch after punch as if he were determined to obliterate what strength she fought to retain. She had cracked and fissured back then, been pushed to the breaking point time and time again but she had endured the storm of blows that had been Hurricane Ed.

Honestly, it was a miracle she hadn't shattered into a million pieces during their marriage.

Times had changed though and she was no longer that same woman. The person she used to be had burned away and the woman she always should have been rose from the ashes, forged from the fire and stronger than ever. The passage of time had turned glass to steel. Now she was able to withstand the strongest force without danger of cracking.

The new Carol could survive this world. There was no other option.

Daryl's treatment of her was distinctly different from what Ed's had been. The hunter was no longer the quick-tempered and skittish boy from the Quarry, constantly hiding in his brother's shadow. Now, he was a man that stepped out of the shadows and stood proudly in the light. Without pushing, he understood she was hurting from her time on the road yet he didn't press her about it. He seemed content to hover nearby, waiting for the all-clear for his approach. Where her husband had tried to break her, Daryl tried to save her from shattering under the weight of such heavy secrets.

His willingness to look past what had happened at the prison gave her hope. Rick had been wrong; Daryl wanted her there, wanted her with the group. He wasn't going to discard her like their leader had predicted. Every time she turned, Daryl was there. Watching. Waiting. Hovering. Placing himself between her and whatever danger might be lurking in the shadows, regardless of his own safety.

Daryl was protective of the group but he had never been like this before. He was the sort of man that always put the needs of others before himself. The protectiveness she could understand, considering what she'd witnessed at Terminus, but the hunter was going above and beyond in his efforts to be there for her, whether it was with an open ear or acting as her own personal bodyguard.

During their watch shift that first night he'd leapt to his feet, seeking out the potential threat hiding the shadows. He'd gone so far as to hold up a solitary finger, signalling back to Carol to stay safely behind him. Daryl had been determined to keep himself between her and whatever was out there, whether it be Rick coming to banish her for a second time or a walker looking for its next meal.

Her own personal helicopter, holding his flight pattern between her and the unknown.

The discovery of Father Gabriel cowering on the boulder, surrounded by the group of walkers was the next time she noticed Daryl hovering close by. During the scuffle he had swooped in, taking out the walker to her right before she could dispatch it. Her helicopter hunter, flying in at just the right moment to take on the shuffling corpse that could have been a demanding teacher from one of those recitals long past. With the danger contained Daryl's flight pattern had changed, this time manoeuvring to hover between her and the latest threat: Father Gabriel. The hunter had even gone so far as to rest his hand on the nearby rock face, creating an obvious barrier to keep the petrified preacher at bay.

The entire time Rick interrogated the Father, Daryl continued to keep his arm firmly locked against that bolder. Once again, the hunter had positioned himself between her and this new breed of soccer coach.

Hovering. Watching. Guarding. Flying close but never quite under her radar.

Somewhere between burning Terminus to the ground and finding Father Gabriel's church, Carol had gained her very own knight protector, his armour a leather vest and his weapon a crossbow. Daryl seemed more determined than ever to forgo his own safety and place himself directly in the path of harm's way, even if this new harm claimed the word of God was the only protection he carried under that heavy polyester suit.

For all the slight changes in approach Daryl had made around her these past few days, Carol couldn't help but wonder if the hunter realized he was now maintaining a particular flight pattern in her airspace. She was sure Daryl was aware of certain actions, like offering to help carry a jug or trying to give her a jacket, but was he consciously aware of things like placing himself between her and the Father? Or positioning his body between hers and the car that sped past the church in the dead of the night?

It had been stupid on her part to think she could slip away from the church unnoticed. The hunter hadn't let her out of his sight since they reunited, why would he suddenly stop when he was eating?

As Carol thought back over every last interaction she'd had with Daryl over the past two days a pattern began to emerge. Daryl Dixon wasn't just acting protective towards her, he was acting…chivalrous. Continually placing himself between her and any oncoming threats, offering to carry that water jug, trying to give her the jacket straight off his back…he was acting like a perfect gentleman. Or at least trying to act like a gentleman when the entire concept of such was a thing of the past.

Watching. Waiting. Protecting.

If he kept up at this rate, he'd be shucking his vest and laying it over the next puddle that lay in their path.

Daryl had always been his own particular brand of chivalrous, but the difference between what had happened in the past and what he was doing now was that he seemed to be making an effort to do _the right thing._ The sort of things men did for women. Daryl offering to carry a water jug for her had been one of the sweetest gestures he had ever made towards her, much like the first time he'd brought her a Cherokee rose.

It remaindered her of high school when a boy would offer to carry the books of the girl he liked from one class to another.

The sudden realization struck Carol: had Daryl's feelings for her changed somewhere between the prison and Terminus? Did he _have_ feelings for her? Like those nervous high school boys who offered to carry the books of girls they had crushes on? Was that the reason he offered to carry a jug for her when they had less than one hundred yards to walk back to the church?

Had that awkward attempt at helpfulness been the first step in courting?

The more Carol thought about it, the more the idea started to make sense. Daryl was going out of his way to protect her, to be there for her anyway he could. Was he going out of his way to act like a gentleman because he thought that's what she wanted? Was he trying to prove to her that he was good enough?

It wasn't a question of whether the hunter was good enough or not though; she had known for some time that he was a good, honourable man…one of the best she had ever met. After what she had done, he was far better than what she deserved. He was the sort of person that would walk through fire if it meant saving another's suffering. He was the sort of man that would risk his life day after day, searching the woods for a child he barely knew.

Maybe Daryl acting like this towards her wasn't about him convincing her he was good enough, maybe he was trying to convince himself of that fact.

Carol shook her head, pushing away the distracting thoughts and focusing on the task at hand. This was not the time or place to start examining the jumble of thoughts swirling around inside her mind. They were stuck in the middle of Atlanta in the dead of night and walkers were fast approaching. She had to lead them to a safe spot - the family crisis centre - before their luck ran out completely.

Letting herself get distracted thinking about Daryl was not an option.

Finally, she caught sight of their destination ahead, boarded up and abandoned long ago. They needed to get safely inside before the shuffling corpses on their trail picked up the pace.

She nodded towards the building, signalling that was the intended destination. Without prompting he moved ahead, once again putting himself between her and any potential danger before he began prying boards away from the barricaded entryway. Carol kept her eyes on the far end of the street, keeping watch as he worked. The creaking and cracking of wood splintering echoed throughout the darkened street, the sound magnified in the empty space.

It wasn't the only sound in that street. The sounds of the dead grew louder with each second, signally that their position was in danger of being discovered.

It was unlike Daryl to usher someone else into uncharted territory first; he usually took point, always the first to leap into the fray. This time though, he held the splintering shelter door open, holding his arm out and sweeping her in before he could set foot in the place.

For once, it seemed the shuffling threats approaching outweighed the potential unknown threats inside. Despite that change of routine, Carol had another gentlemanly act to add to Daryl's ever-growing list: opening a door for a lady. It wasn't quite the same as laying his vest over a puddle, but holding the door open wasn't his usual style either.

Now wasn't the time to start analysing why Daryl had suddenly taken to hovering so close by. What she needed to do was focus on making sure the shelter was clear and secure, not let herself get distracted by thoughts about the helicopter hunter and what his new flight pattern could mean for the both of them.

She couldn't let her guard down for a second, even if her second shadow always had her back.

**A/N: Thanks for reading. I thought it might be interesting to get Carol's take on all Daryl's chivalrous moments and this is where it took me. This chapter has been in progress since "Strangers" aired. Seriously, that is how uninspired I have been towards writing (if you're following any of my other WIP's, this will not be a news flash). Things start then I have to leave them because real life demands I go to a real job that actually pays me so I can live. I gotta say, this adulting crap sucks! Once I've stepped away from my laptop it is near impossible to get back into the swing of that chapter. I am getting to all my other WIP's but it will take me an insanely long time.**


	5. Counting Metal Sheep until the Dawn

Daryl had been sprawled out on the bottom bunk for what seemed like an eternity but no matter how long he lay there or what position he tried curling his body into, he just couldn't fall back asleep. After all the shit that had gone down in the past few days he should have been out cold but instead there he was, his arms folded behind his head, trying to lure his mind asleep by counting the rusty springs of the bunk above.

He'd never been one to count sheep…that shit was for kids.

Back at the prison he'd never slept on the top bed, even when he was bunking alone. It was easier to hit the ground running when your feet were closer to the floor. She knew that about him, that's why she'd made the joke about the bottom being more his style.

It didn't matter how many times he counted row after row of coiled metal, sleep stubbornly refused to return. He was exhausted, mentally and physically. The car they'd dumped on the side of the road wasn't the only thing that had been running on fumes for the last few miles. The brief amount of shut-eye he already managed to catch wasn't nearly enough considering they hadn't taken a moment to pause since escaping the shitstorm that had been Terminus.

When Carol had said she knew a place they could hole up for the night he never expected to land up somewhere like where they were now. Truth be told, Daryl didn't know what to expect when she'd set off down the darkened street, leading him further into Atlanta than he'd ever been before.

That hadn't stopped him from blindly following the course she set. Didn't matter where she led him, Daryl would follow. He trusted her, no questions asked. That unwavering trust had resulted in them busting into a building Carol knew all too well from before the world went to shit; temporary housing for victims of abuse.

Daryl sighed, frustrated that he was still wide awake despite having a bed under his back and a roof over his head. The beds at the shelter weren't the most comfortable he'd ever lain on, but they were far better than sleeping six in a compact car or bunking down on the side of the road. For that fact alone, he was grateful. Wearily, he brought his gaze from the far edge of the above mattress back to the top right corner, preparing to start the countdown once again. He'd lost track of how many times he'd already repeated that same pattern. If it hadn't been for the sharp sound of creaking metal bouncing above his head like nails raking down a chalkboard, Daryl was certain he would have slept soundly right through 'til dawn. Normally, experiencing such a rude awakening would have sent him reaching for the knife on his belt without a moment's hesitation, but the sight of a heavily-buckled boot sailing past his face before it disappeared past the overhead mattress only served to calm him.

Looked like Carol had finally relented and called an end to her self-imposed watch shift. Good thing too; she needed rest, just like everybody else.

Seeing her ankle vanish from his view like that had made Daryl want to kick his own ass. He should have insisted she take the bottom bunk when they'd first settled into the room. That was the sort of thing a decent guy would have done. It would have made more sense for her to take the bottom bunk when she insisted on taking watch; the lower bed would have been easier for her to crawl into at the end of the night. Thanks to his lack of common sense Carol had been forced to scale the furniture like a damned mountain goat aiming for the summit of Everest.

Once Carol had dragged herself up there it had taken some time for her to finally settle. Wasn't surprising really, considering they all had ghosts that haunted them whether they were awake or asleep. Daryl had stared up at the rusty springs overhead, listening to the movements of the woman as she gently tossed and turned, trying to find a comfortable position. Eventually the wiggling springs stilled and the short, quick breaths she'd been taking evened out into the familiar rhythmic measure of a deep sleep.

Didn't have to be a genius to work out something was bothering her, not considering how long it had taken her to finally succumb to slumber.

As he lay there, wide-awake and sick to death of counting, Daryl couldn't help but wonder when the last time she managed to catch a solid eight hours of shut-eye was. She was always shouldering the load, all in the name of protecting her family and making their lives easier. She would go for days on end without sleep if it meant sparing another from exhaustion. That was who Carol was; she cared, plain and simple. She was always reaching out, making sure everyone was cared for and supported.

Hell, Daryl had lost track the amount of times Carol had reached out to him and showed she cared. Like her taking first watch so he could rest, she was always there, keeping an eye out for his wellbeing.

He knew she was hurting. She didn't want to talk about it and he wasn't going to press the issue but that wouldn't make it go away. The loss of Lizzie and Mika had hit her pretty hard. She could bury it as deep as she liked, but he knew her…knew the woman she'd become. Sometimes, he was convinced he knew her better than he knew his own mind. It didn't matter that she'd said she needed to forget, her pain was still there, flashing brightly like a neon sign against the darkened sky. He wanted to do something for her, ease her burden. She had always been the one to reach out to him when he was lost. Now, he wanted to do the same for her. Affection was a two-way street, and up until this point he'd only let her drive down it one-way.

He'd seen her face when she'd realized there was a child walker inside that room. It had cut her deeper than she'd ever let on. Typical Carol though, she hadn't asked for help, not when she was hell-bent on proving she was capable of handling the problem herself.

He wanted to be there for her, comfort her like she had for him so many times before. Show her it was okay to lean on someone else if you needed to. Problem was, he didn't know how to do that…be that sort of man. He'd never been good with this sort of shit before, but he wanted to change. He was trying to change, _for her_. Be the man of honour she deserved.

Daryl made a decision; he was going to show Carol he cared, just like she had always shown him. An idea began to form in his mind about just how he could do something for her, take some of the weight she insisted on shouldering all the time…something that meant more than offering to carry a water jug or trying to convince her to take a jacket against the cold Atlanta night.

He wanted to take away all the pain that was festering inside. She wasn't alone anymore and he was going to show her that.

Once there was enough light to work with, he would go and take care of the mother and child walkers trapped in that other room…burn the bodies too, just for good measure. Last thing he wanted was for Carol to stumble upon another dead kid. She'd seen enough of that shit to last two lifetimes.

As Daryl lay staring at the springs overhead he noticed it was getting easier to make out individual specks of rust and smatterings of cobwebs. Dawn had finally broken. It was a new day and he had shit to do before Carol joined the land of the living. As much as she needed it, there was no way she'd sleep through the morning.

No time like the present to put his plan into action.

Grunting, Daryl unfolded his body from the bottom bunk and slowly rose to his full height. His muscles groaned in protest at the move, his joints popping sporadically as he vigorously snapped his neck from left to right. It was clear the beds had been designed with smaller bodies than his in mind.

He threw a glance over his shoulder, confirming she was still fast asleep on the top bunk, one arm draped over her middle while the other rested near her head. Lost in sleep, Carol was finally at peace.

About damned time, too. If anyone deserved a break, it was her.

Daryl knew she was hurting and he knew it was wrong, but the sight of her arm curled around her torso while she slept made him think about the way she'd held onto him when he'd launched himself at her only days ago outside Terminus. The memory of her arms wrapped around his body was still fresh in his mind. Truth be told, he hadn't been able to think of much else since it happened. He remembered how one arm had been looped around his neck, drawing him as close as possible. Her other hand had clutched at his vest, nails biting through the worn leather, holding onto him like he was the only other person in the world at that moment.

God help him, he wished he could hold her like that again. Her body folded around his had felt so natural, so right. His hand inched forward before he knew what the hell was happening, heading straight for the inhabitant of the top bunk. His fingers ghosted along the curve of her cheek, the tips grazing the surprisingly soft skin. Carol leant into his touch and the corner of her mouth tugged upwards in her sleep like she knew the hand belonged to him…like she was happy he was the one touching her.

She didn't want to talk about what went down with Lizzie and Mika and he wasn't gonna force the subject. When she was ready, she'd let him in; let him do for her what she'd done for him so many times in the past. For now, it was enough that her walls were down while she slept, that she accepted the comfort and affection he was offering, even if it was only a fleeting touch.

He'd go and take out the two walkers trapped in that room down the hall…do for her what she wouldn't ask of anyone. He'd be the one to shoulder the load so she wouldn't have to.

Last thing he wanted was for her to have yet another memory of a dead child.

Slowly, Daryl retracted his hand, mindful not to wake her with his movements. Daylight was already burning and he needed to take care of that pair of walkers before Carol woke. He was done counting metal sheep anyhow.

Carol had taken first watch that night. Now, it was Daryl's turn to watch out for her.

**A/N: Thank you for reading. This was actually written as a Secret Santa gift for lovesdaryl last Christmas (yes, I've been sitting on this chapter for that long). I've tweaked the original story to fit in with the Chivalry Ain't Dead theme so I hope everyone enjoyed.**

**Now, since I've gotten past this one I can concentrate on certain 'Consumed' chivarious acts. Knowing me, expect new chapters in the New Year. Think I'm joking, don't you? Sadly, I wish I was. It takes me forever to finish up a chapter of anything.**


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