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.