Author's Note: This is the first time I've written for the Walking Dead. c: I love this series and it has currently taken over my life. This is the first chapter in a long story. The paring is GlennxDaryl. I do not own TWD, or any of it's characters in any shape or form. Nor do I own the lyrics to "Somewhere Only We Know" by Keane or "New Eyes" by Cahill. Enjoy because I love this paring.

I walked across an empty land

I knew the pathway like the back of my hand.

I felt the earth beneath my feet,

Sat by the river and it made me complete.

Every day I count the mentality left in me.

Every day I count the number of bullets left in my chamber.

Every day I count the hours left in the day till nightfall.

Every day I count the rising number of Walkers.

Every day I count how many more days until I finally pull the trigger.

Somberly watching the camp, the young Asian pulled his cap off his head to roll it in between his hands, frowning at the dim fire. Shane's words went through his head, Make sure the flames aren't too bright, or else it will attract Walkers. The bitter cold sapped through his thin shirt and the jacket they had nabbed from Atlanta when they passed through it. Now they were down to Florida.

Blowing deeply into his hands, he looked down around the desolate camp site and across the fire to where Rick sat, cleaning his gun as his wife sat silently next to him. The older cop caught his eye and smiled. "Sorry to stick you with the watch, it's just…" He trailed off and looked down to the brown haired beauty sitting beside him, shivering slightly. Glenn's lips twitched up and he shook his head.

"Its fine, I don't mind." He told them, moving to grab the shotgun next to the broken up bark of wood he was sitting on, to look like he was actually at his post and being proactive instead of wallowing in his thoughts. Smiling at them, he shooed the two lovebirds away to their tent, before looking back over the cliff, down at the darkened town miles back, civilization. All the things he would miss and reckoned he didn't have time, nor energy to ever visit again. Sighing softly, he leaned a little closer to the fire.

"'Ey, chink, put that out," Glenn looked up, slightly annoyed until he locked eyes with Daryl. His brown eyes flew open in fear as he scooted away a bit. "Didn' I say put that out? It's too late, Walker's could find us." He growled deeply, his ever dirty hands, cleaning his crossbow. His eyes were as hard as coal as he stared impassively at the flustered Asian.

Scrambling, he quickly threw sand over the fire and listened to it hiss out, not looking up from the last dwindling warmth he had. His bones shivered and he wrapped himself closer around the shotgun, trying to keep himself warm when they heard rustling in the bushes. His heart almost stopping, he wasn't as fast as Daryl getting up.

Snapping up, Glenn watched as Daryl roughly grabbed his crossbow and licked his lips. The wind whistled, snapping through Glenn's thin coat and coating his skin in a layer of goose bumps. Trying hard to hold in the warmth, while swinging his arm down for the shotgun, he silently urged Daryl forward. Ever since Atlanta and having to cover himself in zombie, he couldn't handle shooting any Walkers. Shuddering at the memory and repressing a gag, he inched behind Daryl.

Stopping in his tracks, Daryl hit the bushes with his boot and snorted, scaring Glenn half to death in the silence of the camp site. Holding the shotgun protectively to himself, Glenn inched forward to stand behind Daryl's shoulder, peering over the side.

"It's a fuckin' raccoon tryin' to steal some meat…" Daryl mumbled humorless, looking back at Glenn and noting how close he was. "What the fuck, chink? Get the fuck away from me." Daryl pushed Glenn back into the bushes, scaring the raccoon away. Glenn hissed in pain, before looking up to see Daryl retreating back to the dead fire.

The cold forgotten, Glenn took off his jacket to check his skin to make sure there were no entry wounds. Sighing in relief, he gathered up his courage and stomped angrily back up to Daryl. Losing his nerve halfway there, Glenn slowed his pace and frowned deeply, his eyes downcast. Sitting himself down on the log opposite to Daryl, he stared down at the shotgun and resumed his thoughts. The frayed jacket felt warm in between his rough fingers and brought about a reminiscing memory. He toyed with a string as he thought of his mother… His sister… All those who died.

"Oi, chink-"

Finally, it came. The boiling point to where Glenn exploded pushed the fear that the man gave him, deep down into his quivering body.

"My name isn't 'chink' and maybe if you weren't so ignorant, maybe your brother would have lived, and maybe we would trust you more. But no, all you two are is white redneck trash that no one wants to bother to pick up, lest they get AIDS from just looking at you inbreed freaks!"

Silence. Not even the wind whistled. Daryl looked like a morose statue with the razor sharp edge of the knife glinting in his hand.

The white hot, embedded anger inside of him ebbed, leaving him standing there in the cold, jacket less and heaving breaths out of his aggravated lungs. He blinked, once, twice, as Daryl refused to meet his eyes. The whole world was quiet as Glenn's eyes filled with dewy tears and slowly dropped down his face. He wanted to say something to fix the silence, the anger that just exploded out of him, but he knew Daryl deserved it. Every god damn word he said, that son of a bitch deserved it.

New eyes on your side and it won't phase me. I break things, cause pain and say you made me.