It's been awhile. Maybe 6 months or so since I've written anything. And this is the first time I've written anything TWD-related. So please be gentle with me. This is rated M right off the bat because I intend to go there. That is, I intend to go there if this isn't the most awful thing you've ever read. If it is? Well then I'll leave it as a one shot with a different rating.

And the obligatory disclaimer. I own nothing (though I wish I owned me some Daryl), but I am borrowing for the time being.

This picks up at the end of "Beside the Dying Fire." Let me know if it sucks.

"You're his henchmen and I'm a burden. You deserve better."

"What do you want?"

"A man of honor."

"Rick has honor"

Daryl stalked off to the far side of camp determined to get away from her, from all of them. "'Sides ain't no honor in bein' a Dixon."

His confession was mumbled and quiet enough that no one else heard it except Carol. She'd pushed him to become the leader she knew they needed, but it was too much too soon. She sat back and listened as Rick made it clear that he would be making the decisions from here on out.

After all was said and done, the group settled in for the night. Luckily they'd packed much of the camping gear into the vehicles in case a quick escape was necessary. While the men sat and hashed out plans Lori, Maggie, and Carol went through the supplies and divvied up sleeping bags and blankets for the night. They'd need to pair off and share, but that wouldn't be difficult. Lori and Carl, Hershel and Beth, and Glen and Maggie paired off and made themselves as comfortable as possible. T-Dog and Daryl would take first watch, leaving Rick and Carol the odd ones out. Two sleeping bags left meant they wouldn't have to share, but it was a cold night and sleeping alone wouldn't be pleasant.

Carol laid awake much longer than she thought possible given how exhausted she was. Every rustling of leaves, cracking of sticks, or unfamiliar foot steps jolting her out of anything that might resemble sleep. After what seemed like hours it was time for shift change for watch. Daryl and T-Dog woke Rick and Glen. The men chatted briefly before going their separate ways.

Daryl looked around for a place to settle in. He doubted he'd get much sleep, but it wouldn't hurt to try. T-Dog had taken over Rick's sleeping bag leaving Daryl the odd man out. No fuckin' way was he desperate enough to snuggle with T-Dog. His eyes landed on Carol next. She'd been restless all night and he was pretty sure she wasn't asleep. It had crossed his mind that he could crawl into her bag—for the sake of shared body heat, of course. That option was off the table as soon as he'd considered it anyway. Carol wanted a man of honor. Not Daryl Dixon.

Daryl had been so caught up in his musings that he hadn't even heard Carol's footsteps as she approached him. "You can have it," she said softly.

He nearly jumped out of his own skin and silently cursed himself for not being aware of his surroundings and for being so damn skittish. If Merle was here he'd have called him a fuckin' pussy.

"Huh?" It came out as a grunt rather than a question.

"The sleeping bag. You can have it." She repeated. "I wasn't sleeping anyhow."

"I'm fine." He replied.

"You should get some sleep. We're going to be on the road tomorrow and you should—"

"I said I'm fine, woman. Would you just leave me the hell alone?" He hadn't meant it to come out so harsh, but he needed her to leave him be.

"I just—" She managed to get a whole two words out before he interrupted her again.

"What the fuck do you want? I already told I ain't what you're lookin' for. I ain't your man of honor." It was typical petulant Daryl Dixon. All venom and all because she'd pushed too hard. Despite the good he'd done in the last few months, the way he figured it'd take at least several lifetimes to make up for all the bad he'd done in this life.

Carol only nodded before turning away from him. He could see the tears threatening to spill over, but to her credit she kept it together as she walked away. Daryl watched as she made her way purposefully back to the fire. To say he was surprised at the ache in his chest as he watched her leave would have been an understatement.

Why did he even care what she thought? Though he knew it was nothing more than a hallucination he couldn't help but think back to the words of his brother that day in the woods. "Ain't nobody ever gonna care about you except me, little brother. Ain't nobody ever will." That theory had held true for as long as Daryl could remember. When his old man beat him half to death it was Merle that patched him up. When some bigger kid beat the hell out of him at school it was Merle who taught him to fight back. Since they lost Merle in Atlanta everyone had done everything they could to steer clear of him. Everyone treated him like the loner redneck he knew he was. Everyone except Carol.

TWD

Carol sat back down by the fire. The tears that had been threatening to fall had since subsided. She knew she had pushed Daryl and that's why he'd lashed out, but she still couldn't help but take it personally. He'd thrown her own words back at her, but she refused to believe he wasn't a man of honor. After everything that had happened she refused to believe it. He'd searched for her little girl when everyone else was too busy. He'd nearly died trying to find her. She knew he hadn't had the best life growing up. She was certain he'd done things that he wasn't proud of. She also knew that when it came down to it Daryl did what needed to be done regardless of the risk.

After awhile Carol got up from her spot at the fire and picked her way through the group to get back to her sleeping bag. She was a little more than surprised to find Daryl laying there. It seemed he'd been asleep until her footsteps had roused him. When he realized she'd come back to lay down he started to scramble to get out of the bag, but struggled to find the zipper in his groggy state.

"It's okay." She whispered as she knelt down beside him. "You need it more than I do."

Daryl started to say something, but she cut him off with a curt shake of her head. "It's fine." She reiterated as she sat down next to him.

When he realized she had no intention of leaving his side or of letting him get up he finally settled back into the bag. His mind was reeling. Going a hundred miles an hour. It seemed the ache in his chest was directly tied to Carol's proximity. He laid there for what seemed like forever before he finally drifted off. Just before he let sleep overtake him he managed to croak out two words that had never come naturally to a Dixon, "I'm sorry."