A/N: YAY for the sequel! I know this starts off a bit slow, and not much is explained yet, but I wanted to set the tone for the next few chapters. I will also explain Randal, Shane, and the leaving of the farm in greater detail in the next chapter. : )

Disclaimer: I don't own the Walking Dead, the characters therein, or Norman Reedus. If I did... I wouldn't share them lol.

Warnings: Same as Never Too Late. Mentions of past abuse, language, angst, etc.

It was starting to get cold, Daryl noticed absently, his eyes wandering the edge of the clearing from his vantage point in the tree..

It was day four after leaving the farm. Day three of running like rabbits, scurrying every which way, no clear direction in mind other than 'away'. Away from the nightmare that had been their last night on the farm.

He grunted to himself, shifting around uncomfortably, his leg starting to ache as the wind seeped through his clothing, sending chills up his spine. This shit couldn't last much longer; take out the fact that they were all going to freeze to death soon, there was still the issue of moral, which was sinking fast. No purpose, no goals, no destination... Just four days of endless running. Stopping long enough to eat a few mouthfuls of food, grabbing an hour or two of shut eye, before they were on the move again.

And he was sleeping even less than the rest of the group. And while he was used to functioning on only a few hours of sleep a night, four days of almost no sleep was starting to make him irritable.

Well... More irritable than usual.

This was the first time they'd stopped for more than an hour or two. The small hunting cabin he'd found was barely big enough to hold all of them, packed together like sardines as they were, but it had four walls to keep out the wind. Even if it meant no breathing room.

Which was why he hadn't woke Rick up to take his shift on guard duty. There was no way in hell he was gonna lay down in that mess inside. Even if he wanted to, he knew he'd never be able to sleep; everybody was just too Goddamn close. He couldn't understand how they could even breath, much less sleep. He grunted again, wishing that they'd managed to grab at least one of the many tents they'd used on the farm.

But everything had happened way too fast. Not a damn one of them had been ready to up and run like they had, other than him.

Well, even he hadn't been entirely prepared, if he was being honest with himself. He'd been ready to move, sure; granola bars, a couple of water bottles some junk food, and his extra clothes – which was only two extra shirts, and a spare pair of jeans – stored in the saddle bags of his bike, quiver of arrows always either on the bike, or on his side. But his tent, his blanket, and most of his food stash had all been left behind.

But he was doing better than the rest. Most everybody had kept all of their personal belongings – including clothes – in the RV, which had gotten left behind in the chaos. Although, the way Rick told it, they wouldn't have wanted it even if somebody had tried to drive it off. Apparently the teenage boy had gotten over-run inside while trying to save Rick and Carl.

He glanced back at the cabin from his perch in the tree. Hershel and his family had lost almost half their group, not to mention their home and way of life. He couldn't remember the boy's name – had he ever even taken the time to learn it? – but he remembered Patricia. Patricia who'd helped patch him up after his escape. Patricia, who Carol had been close to.

Carol.

He scrubbed a hand over his face, shuddering a bit at the coldness of his palm. Carol was the real problem. The real reason he hadn't been getting any sleep.

After that night... Something had changed. It was a given, he supposed; he knew that night had changed him, which would obviously have changed his relationship with the gray-haired, gray-eyed woman. But he wasn't sure what had changed, or how.

Their first night away from the farm, after Rick's little explosion – and who could blame him, really – she'd talked about her and him going off. Together. By themselves. Just the two of them.

When he'd tiredly – God, even then, he hadn't had a good night's sleep in at least a week – asked her just what the hell she wanted, what she expected of him, she'd given him that small little smile she was always giving him, reaching a hand up to touch his face.

A man of honor, she'd told him. And that look in her eye told him that she wasn't talking about Rick; hell, the more he thought about it, he was pretty sure it wouldn't have mattered what Rick had said or done. She'd decided to throw her lot in with Daryl, for some God-forsaken reason that he couldn't even begin to fathom.

He couldn't figure out what the hell she seen him. Maybe it was grief; woman hadn't been wrapped all that tight even before her kid had gone missing. So maybe she'd just latched on to the only unattached person in the group. Everybody needed somebody, right? Didn't explain why she'd suddenly decided he should be leader instead of risk, but then again, women never really made much sense.

She didn't seem to understand that he wasn't even comfortable with the new role Rick had given him as right-hand man. He hated the way the former deputy would look at him, asking his opinion on everything. Talking things over with him in the few minutes they had to catch their breath.

He didn't want to be anybody's damn leader. Didn't want that responsibility.

But sometimes... the way Carol looked at him... Well, he'd never say nothing, but he had to admit... It was kind of nice when she gave him those looks. Kind of nice that she had that much trust in him, even though it scared the ever loving hell out of him.

Damn, he must have been getting tired.

Carol bit back a groan as Lori's foot caught her in the knee. Again. All night, it'd either been Lori's feet, or Beth's bony elbows. It was hard enough to breath, her claustrophobia rapidly kicking into high gear the closer the pregnant woman and teenage girl got to her, without their constant tossing and turning.

She couldn't take it anymore. In a minute, she was going to start screaming.

Cautiously pulling herself to her feet – careful not to wake the others – she began picking her way through the small, one-room cabin, a frown coming to her face when she spotted Rick on the other side of Lori. Glen curled up with Maggie, and T on the other side of Carl.

He couldn't still be on watch. It'd been at least four or five hours since he'd stomped outside, muttering something about taking first watch, and waking Rick in a few hours. But obviously he must have been, since he wasn't in the cabin, and nobody else was missing.

She wrapped her sweater around her shoulders tighter as she quickly opened the door, stepping out, and closing it as fast as she could, to try and keep the heat inside as much as possible. They hadn't dared risk a fire, not wanting the smell or the smoke to attract any unwanted attention, even though the probability was slim. Nobody wanted to run any more risks than they had to, after what had happened in the farm.

She sighed as she glanced around the clearing, a small frown on her face. She knew better than to try and find him in the dark, especially in the middle of the woods as they were. He could be up in any one of the damn trees surrounding the cabin, and she'd never see him. Especially if he didn't want to be seen.

He hadn't been avoiding her exactly, since that night. The night he'd broken down, and sobbed like a little boy in her arms. But he hadn't been comfortable with her company since then either. The most they'd talked since her disastrous suggestion to go off together had been while she had inspected his swollen and bruised shoulder the previous day, and even that had consisted of mostly grunts and glares.

As she sat down next to the wood pile a few yards away from the cabin, she couldn't help but wince at the thought of just how horribly the conversation that first night away from the farm had went. She'd been scared, her nerves frayed and shot to hell, not thinking clearly after Rick's stunning revelation that they were all infected. The revelation that Daryl seemed to have taken in stride.

With an almost-silent chuckle, she thought about how he'd been more upset with her comment about them together than he had to learn that upon his death, he'd turn into a Walker. Classic Daryl, really: turning into a flesh-eating, walking corpse upon death? Easily handled. A blow or shot to the head, and that particular problem would be solved.

But being alone with a woman? Responsible for her welfare? Well, apparently that just scared the hell right out of him.

"Ya shouldn't be out here."

Even though her brain knew that it was him, that he wouldn't have let anything sneak up on her, she couldn't help the small squeak that passed her lips, hands flying to her throat as she searched the darkness for him. After a few seconds, she locked onto those vibrant, beautiful blue eyes a few feet away from where she sat. After finding his eyes, it was easy to make out the rest of him.

"Couldn't breath in there," She said, giving him a self-deprecating grin. "Too many people."

"Yeah, tell me 'bout it," He mumbled, dropping down next to her.

"How's your leg and shoulder doing?" She asked after a few minutes of uneasy silence, tilting her head to the side a bit, just enough to catch the quick flash of pain across his face, before it was gone again. "Still bothering you?"

"I'll be fine, woman."

"You always are."

Daryl glared at her, trying to decide whether she was being sarcastic or serious. Finally, he just grunted, deciding it didn't really matter either way.

"We need supplies, Daryl. We need supplies, and a few days' rest."

Her firm words caught him by surprise. He'd expected a bit more poking and prodding about his shoulder.

"Yeah, an'?" He asked sarcastically.

"Talk to Rick. He'll listen to you. We can't keep going like this. We... we need a place to relax for a day or two; a place to catch our breath, and gather ourselves. We keep going like this... We're all going to burn out."

"So why don't ya ask him then?"

"Because he'll listen to you."