AN: Here we go, the second of...I'm really not sure. I'm going to say there's four or five more, judging from my outlines, but let's be flexible on that number and say give or take one or two.

At any rate, I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!

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Daryl got to the diner at just after one in the morning. He'd given sleep a pretty decent chance. He'd "gone to bed" at around midnight and he'd stayed there for at least forty minutes. Finally, realizing that this night was going to be like any other where sleep was something elusive that only other people enjoyed, he'd gotten out of bed and decided to go about his normal routine.

Over the years, Daryl had tried everything there was to try to solve his sleeping problems. He'd done the whole counting sheep thing—though he couldn't figure out how that had ever worked for anyone. He'd tried mediation tapes, but they really just ended up irritating him so that he was not only awake, but his blood pressure was also elevated. He'd even gone to his doctor and gotten the prescription pills that were supposed to knock him out except those had resulted in some delightful side effects they referred to as "sleep-eating" where Daryl had gotten out of bed in the middle of the night and proceeded to eat an entire sleeve of Saltine crackers before he woke up. And, more than likely, it was only extreme thirst that had even roused him then. He'd put the pills in the back of the medicine cabinet and he hadn't taken that gamble again.

At this point, he wasn't really fighting it anymore. He caught a nap, every now and again and, more often than not, when he was watching television, and those naps somehow got him through everything else he had to do. Lying in bed and hoping for sleep was the most counterproductive thing he could do—it only irritated him and kept him awake—so he no longer pushed himself to try that. He'd lie down, but as soon as he was pretty sure he wasn't going to fall asleep, he was back on his feet again.

When he pulled up at the diner there were several cars parked there. He scanned them, but none of them belonged to Carol. He half-expected to see her there, or maybe it was just hope instead of expectation, but if she was coming then she wasn't there yet.

Daryl held the door for a woman that was coming from her car—wearing pajamas by the looks of it—and was carrying a toddler that was sleeping on her shoulder. She thanked him and he nodded his head at her in response. Inside, he checked to see who was working and threw a hand up in the direction of Nikki. She was twenty two. She'd been working there for three months and she hated the night shift. She didn't seem to mind Daryl, though, and she would sometimes entertain him with stupid stories about her crazy ass friends when there weren't many customers.

Daryl slid into his familiar spot and moved everything out of his way, clearing the space in front of him. If he needed a fork or a napkin he could reach for it, but he didn't like feeling crowded by it. He didn't like it laying there with some kind of expectation placed on him.

"You eating tonight, Daryl?" Nikki asked, coming over to stand next to his table.

"Cheeseburger," Daryl said. "Just the burger."

"Ketchup, pickles, no mayo?" Nikki asked.

Daryl nodded his head.

"Double them pickles," he said.

"Exciting night tonight?" Nikki teased. Daryl chuckled and resisted rolling his eyes at her. Nikki flirted with everyone. She thought it got her extra tips. Maybe it did with some people. Daryl tipped all the waitresses the same, though. Twenty five percent was his standard tip. He'd worked too many shit jobs in his life to stiff someone else just trying to bust their ass to survive.

"Sweet tea?" Daryl asked.

"You got it," Nikki declared.

She walked off to get his burger—probably already cooked and laying in a pile of burgers in the back—and Daryl looked around. Normally he'd take in everyone that was there. He'd try to figure out their story just from what they were wearing and how damn tired they looked. Tonight, though, he felt pretty distracted. He kept leaning up in his chair to look out the window. Every time he saw the bright glare from outside that announced the arrival of another vehicle, he tried to see if it was Carol.

He tried to imagine what he'd say when she walked in the door. He wondered if she'd come directly to his table and sit or if she'd play coy and sit a couple of tables away until he invited her over. He wondered if she ever ate at night or if she was one of those women who didn't eat after five or else they'd become something like a gremlin—or at least that's what they acted like would happen.

But she didn't come.

And even when he'd eaten his burger in big bites that helped him polish the thing off in what was probably not a respectable amount of time spent on a meal, she still hadn't come.

Daryl got a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach and he couldn't really blame the food for it.

It was a nice night, though. The storms from the night before had passed and they'd left the air a little cooler. A little less suffocating. And Carol did seem like a woman with a lot of extra energy to burn off—maybe sitting in a diner just wasn't her thing.

Daryl waved Nikki down and asked for his check. She looked confused—of course she would—because she was used to him spending hours there. He wasn't usually an eat-and-run patron. Tonight, though, that's just what he was going to be. Feeling, for whatever reason like he had to apologize to her, and like he needed to make sure she knew it wasn't something she'd done, Daryl offered her the explanation that he had something he had to do—despite the ridiculous hour—and he paid his tab before he ducked out of the diner and headed for his truck.

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It took him fifteen minutes to find her. The moon was fairly bright, and the park wasn't too poorly lit, but it still took him fifteen minutes to find her.

She was walking on the little walking track. She was strolling along at a slow speed. She was out there for peace of mind, not for exercise. Daryl caught up with her and called her name just before he fell in step beside her.

Even in the dim light, he could see her smile.

"Daryl? What are you doing here?" Carol asked.

He didn't try to hide his smile.

"Nice night," he said. "I just come out to get some fresh air. Didn't realize this was the park you come to."

Carol laughed to herself. She didn't believe him. Not for one single second. And she wasn't trying to hide it.

"Well," she said, drawing the word out, "then fancy meeting you here."

Daryl chuckled.

"Yeah," he responded. "How about that? Long as we're both here, though, don't suppose you'd mind having a walking partner?"

Carol hummed.

"You know," she said, "I wouldn't mind that at all. Did you sleep last night? After you left?"

"You mean this morning," Daryl teased. "Yesterday morning—whatever. Yeah. I got about two hours. You?"

"Three and a half," Carol said. She raised her arms like she was crossing a finish line and Daryl laughed.

"You're a damn champion," Daryl said. "Cured!"

"Cured," Carol echoed back, but now with the same enthusiasm. "How long have you had insomnia?"

"Don't know that I've ever really thought of it as having anything," Daryl responded. "Really, I just think—that I can't sleep. Well—I take that back. I can sleep just fine. It's the getting there that usually turns out to be the problem."

"Same," Carol said. "Once I fall asleep? I sleep like a baby. I hardly even wake up for anything."

"Except to go at the bathroom," Daryl said. Carol laughed and hummed in agreement. "Remember that once upon a time I didn't even do that. I'd just wake up dying in the morning." Carol didn't respond and Daryl thought about it a moment. When did it start? When was it that he'd simply given up sleeping like he assumed that normal people slept? He sucked his teeth. "I don't remember when I stopped sleeping normal," Daryl said. "Maybe I never did."

"Four years ago," Carol said definitively. "Four years ago my daughter left for college. Don't get me wrong, I'm so proud of her. But—I got so used to having her there. For a long time? Sophia was my whole world. When I couldn't sleep? Even when she wasn't a little girl anymore, I'd go up to her room and I'd just—check in. I'd make sure that she was sleeping. That she was all right. She didn't need anything. She's wonderfully independent. She doesn't need anything. She's just fine wherever she's at. Here or there, it doesn't bother Sophia. I wanted her to be like that. I wanted her to be comfortable enough with herself that—it just didn't matter. As it turns out, though, I'm not that independent."

"You said you weren't married," Daryl said. Carol hummed at him in question. "You said you weren't married. Means you gotta be somewhat independent."

"I didn't mean like that," Carol said. "I guess I am. I am. I just meant—that I don't sleep as well when Sophia's away. When she comes home? On her breaks? I don't have quite as much trouble sleeping."

"But you still have some?" Daryl asked. "Trouble?"

"I guess I do," Carol said. "Habit?"

"Or it ain't your daughter," Daryl said. "Maybe you're like me. Maybe you just don't sleep. But—I know what'cha mean. About the house being different? My older brother and I lived together since I was born. Merle. He moved out about a year ago. Took a job in Atlanta working at a mill. Good pay and good hours. He loves the hell out of it. Been good for him. I thought he drove me crazy, but when he was gone..."

Daryl broke off. He didn't really know how to explain it. He'd spent most of his life thinking that the only thing that could make his life any better would be to somehow get Merle out of it. Now Merle had moved somewhere else, only came back every once in a while, and Daryl was still coming to terms with the fact that, apparently, all those years together had left him feeling like something was just out of place when Merle wasn't there.

"You miss him," Carol said, her voice coming out soft—almost as a coo. Daryl felt his cheeks burn a little in response to the sound. He laughed to himself.

"I wouldn't say that," he said.

"You do! You miss him," Carol said. "It's fine. I think it's good. It means—you loved him. You cared for him. You liked having him around."

Daryl laughed.

"All right," he said. "But now you're just making him sound like a dog or some kinda animal."

"Did you ever have one?" Carol asked.

"One what?" Daryl asked.

"A dog," Carol said. "Did you ever have one?"

Daryl hummed in the negative.

"Had a yard dog one time," Daryl said. "Can't say I really had it as much as I threw scraps at it. Open the door and throw out the leftovers kind of thing. Dog didn't mind me for shit. Was just some stray that hung around—until one day he just didn't never show back up. Did you?"

"No," Carol responded. "When I was younger I didn't have the time or the energy to take care of one. My husband wouldn't have wanted one around anyhow. I've been thinking about getting one, though. They say that they help. With the quiet?" She laughed to herself. "I'm just a little afraid that I'd become that woman, you know? The one that—dresses my dog in outfits and talks to him like he's a person. You know the whole—Mr. Belvidere and I are staying in tonight. He just loves Jeopardy and he won't be happy if we miss it."

Daryl laughed hard enough that he had to stop a moment. Carol stopped her forward progress as well.

"Hell, I'd probably be just as bad at this point," Daryl said. "I've caught myself talking to the people on television like they could understand me. I guess it'd be worse if—if I knew that the dog could understand some of what I was saying. I'd wanna teach it tricks, though, that it probably wouldn't learn."

He started walking again, setting the pace at the leisurely stroll once more, and Carol caught him and matched his steps.

"You mean like fetch?" She asked. "Roll over and...what's that other thing? Play dead?"

"Like wash the towels," Daryl said. "Make dinner. Something good."

Carol laughed at him.

"If you get a dog that can do all that? Let me know. I want to find its littermate," Carol responded. "I usually forget that I'm there alone and that Sophia isn't coming home for dinner. I make enough for three people, eat enough for one, and then I'm stuck with leftovers for two days."

"I can do you one better," Daryl said. "Half of what I eat comes out of plastic trays with plastic wrap on 'em."

"T.V. dinners?" Carol asked.

Daryl hummed.

"Just like the warden made it. I've never been in prison, but I've sure eat like it," he said. Carol thought that was funny. She "poor Daryled" him until the next curve in the track.

Daryl didn't mind when Carol laughed at him. Sometimes it made him uncomfortable when other people laughed at him. Even if he'd done something that he knew should make them laugh, he always wondered if they were just putting it on to try to make him feel like he was funny. He wondered if, in the back of their minds, they were thinking he was the dullest person they'd ever met. Other times, he had a strange sense of paranoia that came over him and he thought that, maybe, they really were laughing at him, but they weren't laughing for the reason that he thought. Maybe they were simply laughing at him in general.

But when Carol laughed? It didn't feel that way. Her laugh sounded real and warm. Instead of making Daryl's stomach ache, it made him feel like he'd done something good—he'd earned that laugh. He'd made her feel good, for even a moment, and that made him feel pretty good.

That night was the best exercise, outside of work, that Daryl had gotten in a while. By the time he walked Carol back to her car, his legs burned from the effort and his stomach and sides did too. His face ached more than he could ever recall it aching before.

And he actually felt kind of tired. He felt like everything around him was a little distant. A little fuzzy. He felt a little like he was drunk when he hadn't drank a thing that day.

And all of it was because of the dainty little woman that he met in a diner and shared a moonlit walk with around the track at the park. If he hated to see her go the night before, he was even sorrier that night when he watched her headlights disappear from sight and headed home to try to steal those elusive "couple good hours" of sleep.