AN: Wow! That was the most reviews I ever got for a chapter! And the faves and follows that's awesome. Thank you...so much! I hope it doesn't disappoint! Let me know what you think:)

I'm still having trouble with my e-mail and not getting my notifications please know I appreciate you all reading even if I am slow getting thank you's out :)

I do not own or profit from The Walking Dead

SHELTER

CHAPTER TWO

Daryl woke in a cold sweat, pain raging throughout his leg. Trying not to hyperventilate he pounded his fist into his forehead. Stop being a pussy you don't need anything for pain, it's not that bad he thought as messaged his brow.

Wiggling himself to the side of the bed he grabbed at his crutches, hoisting himself up and out of bed gasping as the change in position sent bolts of fire shooting down his leg. Maneuvering his way out to the kitchen he got himself a bottle of water propping against the counter to maintain balance as he drank.

This fucking god damn leg, he was sick of it, he was starting to feel like it would have been better if he'd lost it, hell he still might. With his fucking shit ass luck though this would go on forever. His last week in Iraq before heading home and they'd managed to encounter a suicide bomber on patrol. He'd briefly woken up after the explosion to see the bone of his right leg protruding from his skin, to thankfully pass the fuck back out. Three days later he'd awoken again, this time in Germany a tired and scared looking Merle and Dale at his bedside. The doctors had told him his leg was so infected he may not live, and if he did live he may lose his leg anyway, but he hadn't.

He wished they would have just cut the motherfucker off right then and there. The last year he'd seen endless amount of time spent in the VA, surgeries to clean the bone, to put temporary fixes in place until the infection was gone, and bone grafs, all leading up to the big surgery to fix his leg for good and fill it full of more metal plates than a steel mill. That was if the bone didn't get infected again. The final surgery was scheduled for six weeks time. He wasn't sure if he even really cared anymore.

He was doing the work to prepare for surgery, the physio and shit mainly because Merle, Dale and his fucking crazy physio therapist Tyreese were riding his ass hard about it. He snorted it was pretty rich to get motivational pep talk from Merle, a recovering drug addict Merle had apparently "found himself" and spouted on and on about how Daryl had to "find himself too".Pfft the only thing Merle found was a way to extract his head from his own ass. Merle had even tried to bring up their father to him in one of those motivational speeches. Daryl had shot that down pretty quickly, he had no desire to think about the fucked up shit from their childhood he was 31 years old for Christ sake what was the point of rehashing all that now?

He was grateful that they cared, but they wanted him to be all sunshine and rainbows and ...happy. He just wasn't, he wasn't happy.

Dale had been mortified today at the way he'd treated his new neighbor Carol. When he'd opened that door this afternoon, he'd immediately felt a stirring down deep in his gut, he'd thought he'd stomped that urge down and repressed it. Fuck he hadn't even had sex since before he'd left for Iraq...he didn't even know how he would be able to anymore with his messed up leg.

But there she was,this stranger, stirring things up in him that he hadn't wanted to feel. He'd never had a thing for redheads with curls before and suddenly he wanted nothing more than to touch her hair. He'd never thought he liked girls who were so tiny, but his own body had betrayed him as to how much he really liked her curves. He got pissed. He didn't want to feel that way, he did not want to start wishing for all the things he couldn't have anymore.

Tyreese the perpetually happy psychopath had demanded he spend half the day in the wheelchair and half on crutches so as to not overtire himself. He'd been in the chair when he opened the door, so he'd lashed out at her, attempting to embarrass her and she hadn't even flinched.

She'd just fixed him with an intense stare and quirked her brow. She'd hadn't spoken as Dale had made introductions and explained that she would be working for Dale so she'd be stopping by his apartment on a regular basis, to pick up deposits, receipts, bills and anything else Dale might need her to do. That was just great, that's all he fucking needed, seeing her on a regular basis.

Grabbing his crutches he hobbled out to the balcony of his apartment, breathing in deeply when he heard the soft sounds of humming on the wind, glancing over at her balcony door which was open, he could see her sitting on her couch crossed legs, a sketch pad in her lap and a smile on her face. The lamp on the side table was the only light in the room, her curls tumbled wild and free down to her shoulders. She was wearing a t-shirt and shorts, he found himself wondering what her legs felt like, if they were as soft as they looked. His breath caught in his throat a little as he watched her and he quickly turned away feeling like a pervert.

He couldn't help but think of what she'd said to him as she was leaving his apartment this afternoon, the only words she'd spoken.

As she'd headed towards the door following Dale she'd turned

"Daryl?... I have seen people in wheelchairs before, that wasn't why I was staring" she paused for a moment a cheeky grin on her face as she'd nodded towards his bare chest with a wink "I was admiring the view."

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AN: so in RL I am a nurse, but I am taking a few medical liberties, for the storyline. I am mildly basing Daryl's injury on a family members from a motorcycle accident a couple of years ago.