Heya!

Here's another prompt response (for you, Gone Random!)!

I for one love writing this side of Daryl.

Or maybe I just love writing Daryl.

Enjoy, and again, I disclaim all the things!

The sun was bearing down on them hard, breaking the cold snap and forcing them all out of their jackets and long-sleeve shirts.

A slick sheen of salty sweat was already forming on his brow by the time he noticed them.

The Governor and his posse had done some serious damage to the prison exterior, and it was priority Number Two (right behind "get the old folks and little kids the one-eyed asshole left behind settled into their new home") to get things cleaned and re-secured.

Daryl helped Glenn, Maggie, Rick and the "highway chick" (Karen? Pretty brunette, is all he knew) remove the large amounts of busted and burnt wood and metal—what remained of their blown-to-hell towers—from the inner yard first.

Michonne hovered in the cage, keeping a sharp lookout at the tree line surrounding them.

It had been almost two weeks since the Governor had slaughtered his own people and disappeared into thin air…

Daryl could only hope the man had lost his shit completely and driven himself off a steep cliff.

Rick was wary, keeping someone on lookout from the cage as well as posting regular patrols along the outer fence to keep notes of weak-points that needed repair, and help pick off the straggling Walkers that always seemed to make their way from the woods to the prison.

The people of Woodbury seemed alright by him so far, and the girl from the highway, one of the few physically able to lend a hand, seemed eager to prove herself.

She didn't waste time, dragging long, mangled pieces of tin off to the bed of one of their trucks without much fuss or complaint.

Daryl appreciated the silence as they all worked for several hours to get the dangerous debris out of the inner perimeter, away from the wandering feet of old and young alike.

He found he needed this kind of work, needed to get outside and do something, concentrate on something other than what had happened to bring them all to this point.

For the first time in a long time, he felt brief contentment…

Until he and the rest of their little clean-up crew drove over to clean near the other tower, and he caught sight of the patrols for the afternoon.

Carol and Tyreese strolled along the fence slowly, rifles on their backs and a perk in both their gaits. He squinted, raising a hand to block the lowering sun from his eyes to focus in on them, and did not, could not miss the way Carol turned her head up at the man and beamed like the sun above her as he laughed at something.

Carol said something back to him, teeth shining in the light, and when he replied, she playfully moved to nudge him against the shoulder with her own, picking up speed and looking back to watch him catch up.

Something in her smile, in her eyes, turned Daryl's stomach inside-out.

He grimaced at the sick feeling that pooled into his gut, and stopped his work to look down at his feet and try to focus on pushing the feeling away.

The broken wooden beam in his hands seemed to weigh twice as much as a moment before, and he dropped it without much thought, the clunk it made causing the highway chi—Karen to look up at him in confusion.

"You okay?"

Daryl ignored her question, willing away the strange anxiety that suddenly coursed through his veins like fire.

He barely moved to look up at her when she repeated herself, stepping closer to him and blocking his view of Tyreese and Carol.

He craned his head around her, not caring to bother explaining himself when he didn't even know what the fuck his problem was in the first—

Karen turned to follow his gaze, paused, and looked back at him.

"She your sister?"

A jolt in his muscles woke him up and he blinked, looked at the girl and frowned.

"What?"

"The woman with Tyreese. Is she your-?"

"No."

"Oh."

Karen nodded at him, and then paused again.

Looked back to see the two in matching strides.

Turned back and nodded again, slower and with a strange look in her eye.

"Oh."

Daryl felt sick again.

He came very close to telling the girl to just get back to work and leave him be—

"Tyreese is a nice guy. Really funny when he wants to be—"

Daryl turned on a heel and walked away from her, not bothering to explain himself to Rick as the man shot him a confused, worried glance when he passed by.

The one good block had become pretty cramped, and they'd all had to make sacrifices.

Although, if Daryl really admitted it, he'd never once regretted the fact that she now shared his cell…

Until tonight.

He crawled up onto his bunk, ready to crash out before she came in behind him. He hadn't eaten much when they all gathered to ration out dinner, his stomach still in knots over something he really really didn't want to think about.

Something he didn't want to face.

He'd given her the bottom bed, making it easier for her to jump out in case someone was hurt or the baby needed her.

And it just so happened to be an advantage for him too this night, as he turned away to face the wall, clench his eyes shut to try and force on sleep.

He didn't.

He heard her come in and kick off her shoes, heard the small pop of her back when she stretched.

Heard the relaxed sigh as she slipped into her bed and tucked in, sounding as cozy and content as a spoiled kitten. He flung himself onto his back. Stared at the black ceiling just above his head.

Sighed in anything, everything but relaxation.

"Daryl?"

She always was the observant one with him.

He grumbled, not wanting conversation but also not wanting to worry her,

"Yeah…"

"Are you okay up there?"

"Yeah."

He was short with her, his voice coming out thick and gritty and tired.

And maybe just a tad bit too annoyed.

He waited, eyes closed but brain active, scrambling in its thoughts and sending more and more signals of confusion and anger and disappointment rolling his gut in waves.

Carol finally spoke again, as he expected her to, voice quiet and soft, drifting up to his ears and if not for the fact that she was partially to blame for his current frustration, he would probably find himself lulled and dozing at the sound of it.

"How's the cleanup comin'?"

Daryl shifted, eyes blinking open and darting to the side, as if he could somehow imagine her face better that way,

"Almost done…"

"That's good. Me and Tyreese'll help finish it up; I felt like I didn't do much at all today…"

The man's name had Daryl biting his lip.

He didn't have any reason to resent or outright hate the man, who only seemed to want to pitch in just as much as anyone else, who seemed friendly enough, and had done jack shit to Daryl personally, but…

"You and Tyreese can just do that then." Daryl froze. Bit his lip again.

Fuck.

At some point he'd lost his goddamn train of thought and let his tongue do his thinking for him, apparently…

And below him, Carol had gotten very, very quiet.

His head swam suddenly, brain trying to come up with something, anything to say or do to undo what he'd just said. As the silence in the cell continued, he came up at a loss, and cussed under his breath,

"Fuck it."

Something warm wrapped around his fingers.

Daryl suddenly became very lucid, finally registering the fact that at some point, he'd thrown an arm over the side of his bed to come hanging down near hers.

She slid her hand up to wrap fully around his, tightening the hold and Daryl felt much better and much worse at the same time. He swallowed, angry.

At her, for making him feel and act this way.

At Tyreese, for being able to make her smile wider than he'd ever seen.

At himself for not being able to.

"I'm not going anywhere."

He blinked. His chest tightened and he grasped haphazardly at her hand like a desperate-fucking-child.

He opened his mouth to lie through his teeth and tell her he knew that already.

She squeezed his hand.

And for a moment, he swore he felt the ghost of her hot breath hovering over their palms…

"I'll see you in the mornin', Daryl."

He let go the moment he felt her fingers give way.

Heaved for breath above her and hoped to God there was a God to hope she couldn't hear him.

His throat felt strangled even as he brought his warm hand to his chest and balled a fist, whispered back down to her,

"G'night."

She was waiting for him when he woke up, smiling gently and looking at him in a way that told him something had…changed between them.

They went to work on the leftover debris together, Tyreese among them.

His stomach never twisted once the entire day.