Between Arrows and Hearts - Daryl Dixon

One would win

"Dream about the little angels."

Hell, he didn't need to. He had one laying right here.

Sleep didn't come easy. He spent most of the night staring at the ceiling, hyperaware of every shift and sound Cass made. She was like a damn puppy, restless even in her sleep. One minute, she'd moved closer, curling up on his side. The next, she was barely touching him, just using his arm as a pillow, —an arm he kept so still it went completely numb— but he didn't dare move it, not risking to wake her.

The sun had been up for hours now, its light creeping in through the cracks of the tent. Normally, by this time, he'd be out chopping wood, setting traps, or wandering the woods just to keep himself busy. But today wasn't normal.

Cass was still here, draped across him like a damn blanket.

Instead of moving, he stayed where he was, doing the same thing he did all night. Staring at the ceiling and replaying the events of last night.

She'd shown up at his tent, arms crossed tight, eyes red and blotchy from crying. She looked small, vulnerable in a way that twisted something inside him. Like he needed to fix it, even if he didn't know how. He'd stood there for a second too long, just taking her in, trying to make sense of it. Cass had come to him for comfort.

Her words had thrown him off balance, going from spilling her fears and pain to turning the focus on him, like she couldn't stand he didn't give himself enough credit for what he did.

What the hell had he done to deserve her wanting to be here with him, worrying about something as stupid as the credit he gave himself?

"So you need me too?"

It was a joke; her teasing tone had given it away. But the question stuck, hanging in the air.

Need her? No. He didn't need anyone. It had always been like this, and it always would be. But when he thought that he would never see her again when she was in town, he had felt like a weight was pressing on his chest.

Was that needing her? Hell if he knew. He didn't even know what it meant to truly need someone.

His thoughts were a mess, running too fast for him to pin down. Talking was off the table, he'd never been good at it. So, he gave a small nod, hoping it was enough. Hoping it was the right answer.

She hadn't said anything after that, just sat there with him in the quiet. Until she'd mumbled something about leaving, about not wanting to bother him.

He didn't want her to leave.

But the idea of asking her to stay sounded so damn stupid to him, like he had no right to even think it. The words felt too big for his mouth, too fragile to say without breaking them, but he forced them out anyway, clumsy and rough.

And Cass stayed.

Then she leaned into him, resting her head on his chest. 

Daryl didn't know what the hell to do with himself. His thoughts were a damn mess, his heart pounding so loud he swore she could hear it. It wasn't that he didn't want her there. Hell, it was the opposite. He just didn't trust himself to do or say the right thing, not when every instinct told him to stay guarded, to not screw this up.

When she started to fidget, shifting against him, a cold knot of panic tightened in his gut. She probably thought he was uncomfortable. Hell, he was uncomfortable. Stiff as a damn board, barely breathing, too damn scared to adjust himself.

But this wasn't her fault; it was his own stupid head, too full of all the ways he didn't measure up.

He knew he had to do something. She'd already done the hard part. His part should've been easy. But it wasn't.