Hey guys!

Here's another piece of Caryl love inspired by 3x06 and it's awesomness, as well as a prompt from Gone Random. She is equally awesome.

Hope you enjoy, and be aware that is just a tad fluffier than the past few oneshots I've posted.

Please let me know what you think. ^.^

"Go get Hershel; Rick's headin' up here with some woman."

"What woman?"

"Hell if I know, man, he just shouted at me to tell you. She's been shot or somethin'."

Axel's words lingered in his head as he walked into the cell block. The mystery woman must've said something to get Rick's attention if he was so quick to let her in the gates, much less fetch Hershel to tend to her. It didn't matter anymore if a stranger was a man or woman. Everyone was dangerous.

Everyone was a threat.

Daryl felt his spine tingle as he neared Carol's cell. He'd just brought her back to them, gotten some water in her system and Hershel was giving her a once-over. It didn't sit well with him to have some newcomer barging in, taking Herhsel's attention away from one of their own and possibly causing them trouble.

It was bad enough that Glenn and Maggie hadn't gotten back from their run yet…

He reached her cell and peered inside just in time to feel his entire body jerk in panic at the sight.

Hershel had Carol sitting up in bed, helping her change out of the torn, filthy shirts she'd been wearing for the past few days. An oversized t-shirt was being tugged over her head just as he entered the doorway, and without a second longer to process the amount of bare chest he'd caught glimpse of he tore his eyes away to stare at the ground, a pulse suddenly sounding in his warming ears and every muscle in his body twitching with an unknown restlessness.

Biting his lips he willed the panicked reaction away.

Wasn't like he hadn't seen her skin before, or hell, Maggie's either, for that matter. Over the winter they'd often been forced into tiny rooms together, hiding out for a few days at a time, and changing clothes from time to time was a downright necessity, especially for the women.

Didn't matter that they were living in Hell; they wanted to at least have a clean shirt on every couple of days.

But he'd always been careful with his glances, careful to avoid letting them linger on the wrong body (Glenn was a skinny fucker but he'd gotten tough enough to kick an ass or two for looking at his woman) or running his gaze over the exposed chest of the woman most comfortable around him.

He always stole glances at Carol when she changed. He felt guilty the first few times before finally chalking it up to instinct and saying 'to hell' with trying not to. But to his relief, she always turned away from the group before sliding into new clothes.

Watching the bend of her naked back was more than enough to have him swallowing hard and fidgeting in his sleep for the rest of the night.

"Daryl?"

Carol's scratchy, tired voice reached his ears, effectively snapping him from his flushed state. Raising his gaze from the floor he found her dressed in one of Rick's old tees, bare legs just peeking out from under the sheet she'd been tucked under.

Hershel met his eyes and Daryl felt his own narrow without warning.

A part of him, a part that he just couldn't ignore or even understand, didn't like the thought of the old man helping Carol dress. Rationally he knew it was more than necessary-the woman was dehydrated, exhausted, could barely sit up or move her arms at this point—but the quick glimpse of Hershel's hands skimming across her sides as he pulled the shirt over body left a sick, simmering burn in his gut and it made him want to outright snarl.

Instead he took a step into the cell and jerked his head towards its exit:

"Rick's callin' for ya. There was a woman at the gate; she's been shot, Rick's bringin' her in…"

To his credit, if Hershel had noticed the cold glare Daryl had been shooting through his head, he gave no obvious sign of it. Nodding the old man reached for his crutches, gently refusing Carol's weak attempt to sit up and help him steady himself.

Daryl felt his lip lower with a sudden twinge of guilt.

Hershel'd meant no harm in touching Carol and he knew it, but it didn't stop him from feeling the way he had.

Reaching out he grabbed the man's shoulders to hold him still as he adjusted his crutches, helping him to back away from the bed and towards the door.

"Wasn't sure what Rick was going to do with the stranger at the gate…she must really be hurt for him to bring her on in like this." Daryl nodded at Herhsel's words. It wasn't like Rick to just take someone in anymore.

It wasn't like any of them to trust a stranger, no matter how hurt or in need.

It was them against the world, now, and Daryl preferred it that way. He cared nothing for the needs of others, with the only exception of kids…

If they weren't of the group, if they weren't his, they were S.O.L.

He watched as Hershel hobbled out of the cell and turn to look back at him questioningly.

Glancing down at the woman in the bed he conveyed a silent message that the older man picked up on easy.

I'll catch up.

Hershel left with a silent nod.

"Rick'll probably need you." Her throat was so dry that her words were still at a whisper, but they cut through the stillness in the room and reminded him to move.

Sitting in the chair next to the bed he leaned toward her, watched the way she curled up on her side to face him, eyes heavy and lips pale. A hand strayed to reached down and grasp at the sheet and he watched her pull it up over her body, tucking it around her hand and up to her face until nothing but her eyes and nose were visible to his stare.

He recognized that fetal position, the usage of the sheet to hide as much of herself as possible.

She was a practical mirror image, lying there, sleepy and hurt and thoughtful. Those blue eyes blinked at him and he remembered those words, from what seemed like years ago at the farm,

You're every bit as good as them...

He didn't believe it then, and he didn't believe it now, but something in the way she looked at him suggested that maybe she thought he'd proven it by finding her, by pulling her out of that hole and bringing her back to the group…

"I didn't…"

"What?"

Had he said it out loud?

Christ…

"Nothin'. You feelin' okay?"

Even under the sheets he could see her lips pull up into a smile, and his own lifted in response. He couldn't ignore how nice it was to see her smile, how it made him want to smile with her. How easy it was once he made the decision to stop fighting it.

"I'm okay. Just tired. Figure I'll probably be starvin' when I wake up."

"I'll make sure we got somethin' for ya."

He was relieved she wasn't asking too many questions yet. From the blissful, sleepy expression on her face he doubted Hershel had told her about the baby yet, about Lori…

It wasn't in him to tell her now.

She yawned, uncurled her fingers from the sheets to reach out to him.

Daryl felt a different kind of heat strike his gut then, watching that thin, soft hand turning over to beckon his own. Months ago he would have stood and backed away, afraid of her touch and of what it meant when he felt it.

Months ago he wouldn't have reached out without a second thought to slide his hand into hers, curl his rough, dirty fingers around her smooth ones and squeeze.

His throat was closing up.

He wanted to tell her he hadn't looked for her as much as he should have…that they'd had so much to deal with, finding the baby food and losing Rick to temporary fucking insanity…

He wanted to tell her how angry he was with himself when he found her knife, when he thought she'd fought and suffered alone before dying a miserable death.

How relieved he was that she was lying in that bed, holding his hand, breathing and speaking and smiling.

He leaned over before any of those things could escape his mouth, pressing the words into her forehead with a kiss that lasted much longer than hers had. He paused against her hair, breathing in deep and steeling himself before pulling back to meet her watery eyes.

He figured she could see it too, the way he was mirroring that moment, with the way she squeezed his hand and fought away her tears.

He didn't care how goddamn sentimental it made him look.

"Get some rest. I'll check back on ya soon."

Skin separated from skin and he pulled from her grasp to refocus his thoughts, meeting the doorway just in time to hear Rick's voice calling his name from outside the block.

Carol was safe and alive.

As he left her sleeping and headed to meet up with Rick and their possibly-dangerous mystery guest, he hoped he wouldn't have to do anything extreme to ensure she stayed that way.