Author's Note: This was a planned one shot that started to get super long (as they always do) so I decided to make it a two shot, because otherwise it probably would have been six months before I wrapped it up. And as outlined in the summary, this is the same universe as "The Memories of Us," though this one takes place during the gap time between season two and season three. If you read the other story, they were opening season four in a very loving, established, relationship. This is them at an earlier stage. More at the end.

And just as a general note, huge thank you everyone who has left reviews or faved or followed or anything, on anything because I know I'm WOEFULLY behind on responding to your notes. I really do try to get back to folks individually as much as possible, but life gets crazy, or I get crazy, and time passes. Please don't ever think that your comments aren't appreciated though, because knowing you guys/gals are enjoying this stuff, is what motivates me to put up the next chapter or next story. If you all weren't out there I'd just be spitting in the wind :)

Anyway, picking up here in the middle of a scene.

The Ice Follies

"Whaa . . . oh shit."

The curse left Daryl's lips as a hiss, a split second after he slammed into Carol's back and nearly knocked her to the ground. Because he'd just realized why she'd stopped short in the middle of the icy, stone lined pathway they'd run out onto ten seconds before.

There was a herd staggering down the street in front of them.

Two dozen walkers at least, right within view, slipping and sliding on the snow covered ground. A lot of them were taking spills and falling to their knees, then the ones comin' behind would trip over them. There were little piles of walkers forming, with the dead bodies crawling out from underneath, then back up to their feet again, before another one would fall.

It was like a damn comedy show outta hell.

And hearing Carol start to hyperventilate in front of him, Daryl quickly slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her to his chest . . . her nails immediately dug into the back of his hand.

"Shhh," he breathed into her ear as he began to slowly inch them back towards the door to the abandoned house they'd just been foraging in for supplies. The distance was only maybe five or six feet, but at that moment it might as well have been a half mile. 'Cuz they couldn't move fast, but if they were spotted by that herd of walkers before they could get back inside . . . his jaw twitched . . . they were gonna be dead themselves. Really, probably the only things saving them at the moment were the weather . . . there'd been a light, steady, snow falling for the last few hours which would be screwin' up their vision some . . . and the time of day.

It was late afternoon, and what sunlight there was coming through the storm clouds, was maybe an hour from fading off into that slate grey sky.

The one other lucky thing he just noticed too, was how there were enough big elm trees in the yard they were in, that the shadows foldin' in around them were long. Better still, one of those long shadows was spilling right over their slippery walkway. Which meant that all he and Carol needed to do, was just not make any sharp moves, or let out any heavy breaths . . . even with the snow swirling, the air was cold enough to see the air coming out of your lungs . . . and hopefully they'd stay hidden until they could get back inside the house again. So even though it was KILLIN' him not being able to just grab up Carol, turn around and RUN(!), he kept them moving soooo fuckin' slowly, backwards, one half shuffled step at a time.

It was like even though he knew that only seconds were passing them by, (fifteen, maybe twenty so far), it was still taking a God damn ETERNITY to bump into the door again! But hell, he thought with what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze of Carol's freezing cold fingers, maybe they'd run out farther than he'd thought they had. After all, they'd been moving fast to stay warm, with the plan to hit one more house to look for supplies, before they headed back to the others at their new encampment in the big yellow house, two streets over. So basically they'd been moving like it was a non-stop fifty yard dash for the last hour of their foraging through that neighborhood. Now though, Daryl was feeling a sharp spike in the panic settin' in that too much time was passing. And he was just about to risk doing a full swivel of his head to take a look at their position relative to the safety of the front door, when he caught a glimpse in his side vision of one of the wilted shrubs in front of the picture window.

Which meant . . . thank you Jeezus(!) . . . they were almost there now!

Of course it was just then, when Daryl started to feel a slight bit of hope they weren't about to be walker chow, that a gust of frigid wind swirled up and around them. And even with his angel vest, and the two layers of flannel he was wearing underneath it, the sharp drop in temperature shot a shiver straight down his spine.

He could feel the same in Carol's body where she was pressed against him.

It wasn't two seconds later though, when he realized the thing that was SO much worse than just suffering that whip of bitter cold when they were already underdressed for the weather, and wet from the snow, was how that wind seemed to have been strong enough to catch their 'living person' scent, and blow it across the yard and out towards the street. Because he'd barely blinked that thought, before he saw two of the walkers out by the curb suddenly tip their heads back and start to sniff the snowy air.

Carol's nails broke through his skin.

And knowing they were out of time, Daryl finally did risk that full head swivel just to see how close they were to the door . . . only two feet away, thank Christ . . . and that was damn close enough! So he finally did what he'd been wantin' to do since they'd first froze up in the middle of the walkway . . . he just scooped Carol up around the waist with one arm, while at the same time he reached back to snag that icy doorknob with the other hand.

He had the door open and the two of them back inside the house, in six seconds flat.

The problem was though, that even if they were in more of a shadowy space than they had been before . . . it was probably looking like near pitch from the street, twenty paces out . . . those two walkers that had caught their scent, had just caught their movement now too.

They were staggering towards the house.

Even worse than that though . . . he sucked in a breath . . . there were two more following after them.

And another that had turned to look.

Immediately feeling his already racing heart start to full on gallop in his chest, Daryl quickly . . . though as QUIETLY as fucking possible, less they bring even more attention on themselves(!) . . . gave Carol a shove off towards the darkened dining room, and pushed the door shut. Then he hit the deadbolt, before he threw his back against the smooth lacquered wood.

And dear GOD how he was wishing right then that freaking door was made of metal!

"Get a chair from the kitchen," he hissed over at the one woman in the world, he could no longer get through his days without . . . she was standing there still lookin' terrified, and half stunned, at their cluster fuck of a situation, "I'll hold it 'til then!"

"Right, right," she gasped out even while she was dropping down to the hardwood, her rifle, and the canvas bag only a quarter full with the meager bit of food they'd found on their house to house, to race down the hallway they'd walked out of like normal, just a few minutes earlier.

And while she disappeared into the shadows . . . there was hardly any light now with the door shut and the windows boarded up . . . Daryl moved to brace his boots against the muddied floor. Because he could feel the knob behind him starting to turn.

It was digging into his hip.

First one way . . . then the other. But then he saw Carol running back, twisting as she came around the corner, carrying one of the straight back wooden kitchen chairs in each hand.

She nearly bounced into the wall.

At that point he was starting to feel that push from the other side of the door, and he knew, that THEY knew, there was food inside there. And even though he got how they could sniff out a meal, the fact that fucking DEAD people . . . half of who were literally rottin' off the bone . . . could be so God damn STRONG, was still beyond him even this this many months into The Turn! So while he twisted his lower body to the left, Carol moved in to jam the first chair under the doorknob.

And she got it.

It actually was a pretty good brace too. It was even better when she moved to flip the other chair over and put it down flat on the floor. Then she tangled up those legs with that of its mate, and angled it so the top back, was pressing into the opposite wall, running next to the staircase. So basically, the front door couldn't be opened from the outside anymore. Well, okay, if the deadbolt flew off, and both chairs snapped into pieces of kindling, then yes it would, "open." It would definitely take more than a few walkers to get that kind of force though. They'd actually probably need at least a dozen or more pressing all together at once. Not that he was plannin' on sticking around that front hallway to see if a dozen more dead folks would show up.

Hell freakin' no, man, they were moving their asses OUT of there!

So now that the door was safe to step away from, he shoved his bow back over his shoulder from where it had fallen to his elbow, grabbed Carol's hand . . . she in turn snatched up her rifle and their supply bag off the floor . . . and he started pulling her up the stairs.

Ordinarily of course as they tripped along, their wet boots slipping on the shiny baseboards, he wouldn't be lookin' to hide inside a house that a group of walkers were trying to get into . . . he'd just run them out the back door. But when they were ransacking through what had turned out to be an already well picked over kitchen, they'd seen how the back door on this place had been nailed shut some time ago. As too, again, were all of the first floor windows. Even the frame around the front door had had nail holes in it on the inside, showin' that at one point the whole place had been sealed up tight, while somebody likely tried to make a stand. God knew how that'd turned out for whoever, but when he and Carol had come across this place maybe a half hour ago now, that front door had been half open, with a little swirl of dusty snow blowing into the hall. And they hadn't found anybody (living or dead) inside the house, nor any remnants of such either, so that was something. Though it would've been nice if those boards from the door had still been there as an extra security measure . . . it was actually kind of weird they were gone, unless somebody took 'em for a weapon of sorts . . . but he and Carol could at least be grateful for the amount of reinforcements that were still in place around the downstairs. Because even if they knew from experience on the farm, how a full herd could easily take down a whole building, this house wasn't directly in the path of the herd. They'd just picked up a few strays.

At least Daryl was praying to God it was still just a few strays.

He figured though that either way there was enough movement going on outside with the wind and the snow, that the walkers who had been following after them should be gettin' distracted by something else, soon enough. 'Cuz really, it wasn't like they had any concentration in those rotted brains of theirs.

All they had was the drive to eat.

So yeah, as he and Carol climbed off the last stair, and stepped onto the dusty red carpet runner going the length of the upstairs hallway, Daryl was pretty sure they'd be safe inside that house. But just to totally cover their bases, he figured the best thing to do would be to hole up in one of the bedrooms, and block that door off too. It'd give them an extra layer of security.

Enough so they could get some rest without fear of gettin' gnawed on in their sleep.

Because as he began moving them forward again, he knew that with both the sun going down, and the scores of dead people swarming the neighborhood, they weren't goin' to be able to go anywhere 'til morning, or they'd just be going on a suicide run. And they hadn't lived through all they had so far . . . he gave Carol's fingers a squeeze . . . to be dying some dumbass way like that.

Then of course the other real concern with them trying to leave, aside from the main one of just straight up gettin' themselves killed, would be if, in them tryin' to get back to the others, that they ended up leading a whole swarm of walkers down on top of the group.

And Daryl would never forgive himself if that happened.

So the truth was . . . he stopped short in the middle of the hallway to let his eyes to the darker shadows . . . hiding up here wasn't just their best option out of the limited ones they had, it was their only option. His hope though was, that by mornin', the walkers clawing at the door right now, would have long since lost the scent of fresh meat, and the herd would've cleared the area, because that's just what herds did.

Then they could go see how the others had made out.

In the meantime, all he had to do was keep Carol safe, 'cuz that was his job. At least that's how he saw it these days, as long as she was okay, then he was okay. He wasn't quite sure when that had become the way of things, but that it was. Which was why, after he could see clearly again, he turned to look over at her staring down at the dusty rug.

"Ya'll right?" He whispered. And her eyes immediately shot up to his, as she gave him a sharp nod.

"Yep," she cleared her throat, "yeah, I'm okay."

After all these months living together, Daryl could usually tell when she was puttin' him on or not. And on this one, it seemed like she might be telling the truth. At the same time though, even with the dim light he could see how her color was bad, and he could feel even just by holding her hand, how she was shaking in her wet clothes. And after he looked over at her for a few more seconds, with their eyes locked, he decided that she might've been all right on the mental side, but physically she wasn't doing too great. What he needed to do was get her warmed up, and some food into her, then he'd be able to tell if it was anything more serious than just a crap day. He didn't want her to know he was worried though, so before he looked away, his lip quirked up a bit.

She immediately smiled back.

It was a tired, weary smile, but it still made his heart feel good. Because she was the only woman who had ever looked at him like that. Like he actually made her happy.

Maybe even almost as happy as she made him.

It'd be kind of crazy if that was true, but as he gave her cold fingers a squeeze, he was reminded that they lived in a world now of crazy things . . . who was to say that wasn't one more that was true?

So with that, and a slight tug on her hand . . . he continued walking them down the hall.

A/N 2: Again in their zeal to keep on keeping on with the comics, I think they lose these windows of time to cover that could be really interesting. Like this winter of them starving and constantly being on the run. They literally devoted just the season three opening teaser to it, and that was that. I'll allow that they did it really well because if you rewatch it you'll note there is not one line of dialogue. You got everything about the life they were living then, and how their roles had changed and the group had bonded, all without one word being spoken aloud. But they could have gone with that teaser, then given us one episode of that life, and let it end with them finding the prison. Same thing in season five when they went north to drop off Noah in Richmond. They can't even go on a food run the next town over without somebody dying, but nobody in the production office thought it might be interesting to see them travel THREE HUNDRED MILES through the southland! Like NOTHING eventful happened that whole week long trip? Really? Again, not asking for a whole season, but one or two episodes on the road and shit hitting the fan, and a couple narrow escapes would have been good stuff. I'd also like to see walkers in the snow, and how that affects them, because the way they drag their broken bones along, the slip sliding all over the ice was very clear in my head. Anyway, that's what FF is for :)

And I do have the rest of their evening here plotted out again, with the plan of doing this as a two shot, but I am considering the wacky idea of just posting a story like a normal person with these 3k+ chapters, which obviously can cleaned up a lot faster. We'll see how my brain goes. Just want to get it done :)

Thanks all!