AN: so, so many of you wanted this to continue, I started thinking on it, and got this idea. Can't guarantee how long this will be. I don't really have any idea where I will take it. But I aim to please ;) your reviews motivate me, what can I say.

I do own or profit from The Walking Dead

Chapter 2

It was becoming a habit she could not break.

Carol would come home from work, spend time with Sophia, put her to bed, then once her mindless chores of righting the chaos a toddler could reek on the cleanliness of her apartment she would settle, on her lounger, on her balcony, sketchbook in hand, watching him. Her neighbour Daryl.

Well she guessed neighbour was what you called someone who lived across the way, technically they were neighbours. They had not spoke, not out loud anyway. But they had been communicating since that night. That night he introduced himself so sweetly, after she flashed him a note that his grill was on fire. That was two weeks ago, she had not missed a night on the Balcony since. Neither had he.

She'd noticed him, from the beginning, the day she moved in. Carol could not help but glance over in curiosity at the apartment across the way that was technically her view. And oh what a view it was. He'd been in his kitchen, wearing only a low slung pair of jeans, as she had watched him throw an obviously dirty t shirt off of his body as he entered his apartment. Every line of his form on full display, dipping down towards the waist band of those jeans, and she'd found herself biting her lip, hoping that he would shed those next.

But he hadn't, he'd turned get a beer from the fridge, chugging it back, his back on display. All planes and angles and muscles, all beautifuly defined, all punctuated by devastating scars.

It only added to his appeal, gave him the air of a warrior having fought his way through the pain of life. Someone just like her. She felt connected to him somehow. She wished she was more than connected.

God she was such a pervert, but it was thrilling, amazing the lust that had coursed through her. For so long she'd thought that part of her was dead and gone.

She'd been twenty seven when she met Ed. Finished of a combined major, teaching and art. She'd simply wanted to teach, the one thing she loved most, art, to others who wanted to learn. She'd had a job lined up, and a few casual dates with Ed, when her parents and her sister had passed away in a car accident. She was alone, and she inherited some money. Ed was all over her vulnerability in an instant. She should have known better, but she'd fallen for it.

Three years later, she had been ashamed at how far she'd fallen, how she'd let control of her life slip away. Ed was abusive in every way possible.

She'd been vibrant before, but then when she looked in the mirror, she felt lifeless, until she found out about the life growing inside of her. She'd plotted her escape from Ed, the moment she realized she was pregnant. The pregnancy seemingly knocking sense back to her, setting her free. Sophia had been born, Ed had not even made it to the hospital.

Andrea, had helped her, she was almost ready to leave when it happened. Ed had been murdered. Seemed he'd taken her money and got involved in illegal dealings. She lost everything, but she was free.

She stayed with Andrea for a few months, until she got her life together. A job teaching at an art school a town away. A cheap apartment that wasn't in a terrible neighbourhood. A nursery school for Sophia. Life was starting over, and it seemed so was her libido if her reaction to her neighbour was any indication.

She was content to look and to watch from a distance. He became her muse, the spark that had lit the match of her libido had also set her creativity ablaze.

Even now, in her studio office at the school his face was taking shape on her canvas, her sketchbooks were filled with his face. Oh she had watched, and she had seen him notice her.

That day his grill had caught fire she'd glanced up, the sun had been hitting his face just right, combined with the haze from the smoke coming from the grill had created shadows on his face that held her spellbound. She'd glanced up, to get a better look but he was turned on the phone, his jaw set, angry and distracted.

She'd watched the grill catch fire, growing more and more before she started jumping and waving. He'd noticed her but still had not looked behind him. Scribbling a quick message had been the easiest way.

His face had been so sweet and shy when he'd come back out to thank her. She got a sense that he had some crippling shyness for some reason.

Since that night, thought, he'd been on his balcony. She saw he had a large cheap sketch book and a sharpie the next night, even if those items could be bought at a local dollar tree store she had a feeling he'd made a special trip. She'd grinned at how he blushed when she nodded and quirked her head at him as he started writing. She would probably tell him anything he asked.

WHAT ARE YOU DRAWING?

Uhhhh...Except for that, she squirmed at his message, blushing brightly. She was currently sketching his chest from memory. She scribbled a message back.

WHAT ARE YOU DRAWING?

She laughed at his face as he read her message and smiled as he seemed to start drawing. He turned the sketchbook to reveal a pretty competent drawing of a stick figure trying to put out a fire. Her laughter had echoed around the complex.

From that night on they had not missed a night. Every night sitting across from each other having the weirdest conversations ever, wondering what the other neighbours thought. Never once actually speaking to one another.

Carol had every intention of giving him her number, taking whatever this was to the next step, but for now she was content, because she sensed that this was easier for him. He didn't strike her as the type of man, that found it easy to talk to others. She could respect that. But tonight it was raining and she missed him, as she sat on her couch snuggled in a blanket watching the rain pound down.

She saw him, across the way, come to the patio door, and stare out towards her apartment. Like maybe he missed her too.

Making a decision she wrote out a message and made sure he was still standing there watching. She didn't want to be flashing this to anyone but him.

555-6688 - MY NUMBER - if you want it.

She saw him writing it down. Then grinned as her phone alerted her to a text.