Summary: Teaching archery to little kids was not the job he had in mind, but he liked it. He liked it because Sophia was his best student, and her mother was the most beautiful woman he had ever met.

note; Happy Birthday Melissa McBride! I'd like to dedicate this chapter to the wonderful Mel. If you're reading this, Melissa, then I hope you know just how beautiful and amazing you are. I kinda really want to be like you when I'm older.

Anyway, this chapter is, sadly, not one of my favorites. I found it hard to write, but maybe that was because of school and me being sick and my pet passing away. Caught a harsh flu. I tried to update fast, but I couldn't. I do hope you like it, though. Also, I have two important questions regarding this story.

Would you rather have Ed dead or alive? This story could go two different ways. Though I have my own opinion, I'd like to hear you out. Please remember that him being dead wouldn't make this story less interesting than it would be with him alive.

Which pairings should be banned and which should be encouraged? I don't have problems against any ships (except maybe lori/daryl), but I'd like to know what should never happen. Of course, the story is Caryl, but side pairings may come in eventually.

Sorry for the long note! Please read, enjoy, and review/pm me with your answers! :)

Daryl knew the storm was coming. He just didn't know how big it would be.

He liked to think he had some sort of sixth sense. One of the many "hunter" skills, he called it. If it was going to rain, he would feel it. He'd smell it in the air, even if the storm was miles away.

He had sensed this one before it arrived, but it had rolled in so suddenly that even he was caught off guard. However, it wasn't the sound of the droplets of rain falling hard on the roof of his tent that had woken him up.

As a kid, Daryl had learned to sleep with one eye open. He never knew when his pa would come home drunk or high, so he couldn't afford himself a good night's sleep. So he became a light sleeper, always on alert, and when he heard the sound of his dad's truck parking outside, he locked his door and hid under his bed.

So, really, the smallest of sounds could wake him up.

Just like the sound of that tree branch breaking.

His eyes shot open and he grabbed his crossbow from beside him. He pulled the zipper down and pointed his crossbow and whoever was roaming outside.

He had to put it away immediately.

Stupid Carl.

Stupid, fucking moronic Carl.

Sophia hated storms. It's not that she didn't like the rain. Actually, she loved it. But storms were scary and dark and different.

There was too much noise, and it reminded her too much of those cold rainy nights where her father would come home drunker than usual. Even though she hid her in the bathroom, Sophia could still hear loud and clear how he beat up her momma. She'd cry herself to sleep, the thunder echoing in the darkness.

Sometimes, it would get so ugly she'd have to sit in the tub, close the curtain and put her hands on her ears, whispering shutupshutupshutp like it was a mantra.

Sometimes, it would be over quickly.

Sometimes it would last for hours.

And sometimes, it would last the entire night.

That almost never happened, but when it did, Sophia had to open the bathroom window (which was barely big enough for her to fit through) and then she'd run.

Run until her legs ached.

Run until she was out of breath.

Run until she reached Carl's house and climbed the slim ladder (which Carl put up every night in case she needed to run away from Ed) and tap on his bedroom window. With Carl, she'd be safe, at least for the night.

Sophia hated storms, and Carl knew that very well. Which was exactly why she was so mad at him for not mentioning that her tent had a huge leak.

He probably didn't notice it, but she was too mad and too scared to give it much thought. It had taken her at least an hour or two just to get herself to sleep. Between tossing and turning, she finally found a comfortable position.

Storms reminded her of Ed. And she hated Ed. That man didn't deserve the title of "dad." He was an abuser, a drunk, and everything a father should never be. There might have been a time where she loved him and called him her daddy, but she would never know. He was just another monster in her closet.

He was Ed.

But now the storm was loud, and Sophia was scared, but she had to remind herself that Ed wasn't there anymore. That Ed wasn't beating her momma in the bedroom next door. And it was hard, but she managed.

Then she felt something wet hit her cheek. It hadn't even been an hour since she had fallen asleep and now she was wide awake again.

The moisture hit her again. She looked up and felt a water droplet hit her forehead. Then another.

And another.

And another.

Sophia rolled over. The tent was small. A little too small for her. She closed her eyes and willed herself to fall asleep. It didn't happen.

She felt another drop of water fall on her face and she groaned.

Sophia sat up and rubbed her face with her hands. She laid down again and sighed. Maybe she could get to sleep, even with the rain hitting her. Then, her eyes shot open and she grimaced.

She had to pee.

Groaning, Sophia sat up and pulled down her tent's zipper. The water hit her straight in the face. Great. This storm was a windy one.

Sophia grabbed her doll and stepped outside.

"Freaking fuck," she groaned. Then, lightning struck not far away from the quarry. Sophia narrowed her eyes and looked up, shouting at the sky, "Really? Well I love you too, Zeus!"

It felt like she had just been shoved into a running shower. She could barely see a thing.

She shook her head and walked on with a determined look on her face. She would get to the woods, or maybe, she could hid behind a bush next to some cabin and hope no one was awake and playing Peeping Tom in the window.

She didn't get that far. She accidentally stepped on a branch and it made a loud crack.

Sophia held her breath when someone opened their tent, holding an object she couldn't quite make out.

"The hell ya doin' out here?"

Daryl.

Sophia sneezed before she could answer.

Daryl scowled.

Damn kid was gonna get sick and it'd be his damn fault.

He'd fail at taking care of her.

Again.

Daryl Dixon wasn't having it with failure anymore.

He cursed and opened his tent wider. "Get in," he commanded.

Sophia hesitated.

Daryl grunted, "C'mon, kid. Ya wanna catch a cold?"

Sophia quickly ran inside.

Daryl zipped it up and finally took a good look at the girl. He grimaced, "Shit, you're soaked. What the hell where ya doin'?"

Sophia avoided his eyes. She took a deep breath and remained quiet.

Daryl waited.

Neither of them spoke for a minute.

Sophia opened her mouth. "I had to pee."

Daryl didn't know whether to laugh or scream. She had to pee. Of course. Everything made sense now. Cause going out in the pouring rain and heading into the woods to pee was completely rational. He bit the inside of his cheek and looked at her.

"Do you still have to pee?"

Sophia nodded.

Daryl groaned. He looked around and figured he didn't have other choice. He pulled down the zipper of his tent and grabbed his crossbow. He could barely see with this storm, "Jesus, kid. Couldn't have picked a better night, huh?"

Sophia scoffed, "Peeing is a human necessity. When someone has to pee, they have to pee."

Daryl stared at her. This girl was gonna drive him crazy. Shy first, cranky like an old man later.

He had to give her credit: the kid had spunk.

He had to hold back a chuckle, "There any bathroom around here?"

Sophia shrugged, "I don't know. Maybe inside the cabins?"

"Got spare clothes?"

Sophia nodded.

Daryl climbed out of the tent and helped the girl up. The rain was harsh, and he was soaked within a minute. He grabbed the girl's hand and led them both through the barely visible place. He urged her to run faster, and he was surprised to see she didn't trip or falter.

They reached the staff's cabin and stopped on the porch, both leaning against the door. Sophia was about to knock but stopped when she saw Daryl shaking his head. He put his finger to his lips, silently asking her to stay quiet.

He slowly moved over to the first window. He squinted his eyes and managed to catch a glimpse of long braided hair. He focused more on the sleeping form, and saw a hand clutching some sharp, large object. He suppressed the urge to chuckle.

Michonne slept with her freaking sword in hand.

Daryl turned back to Sophia and motioned for her to go over. He silently slid to the other window. The glass was fogged up and he had to swipe his hand across it to see through. He noticed a smaller body, wrapped tightly around the blankets and curled up in a ball. He could see her cropped hair curling around the back of her neck. The blanket wasn't pulled up her arms, and he could see her pale shoulders and smooth arms.

He looked away, suddenly feeling ashamed, like a horny teenager spying on his hot neighbor.

He glanced down at Sophia and wrapped his arms around her, his grip unsure and hesitant but firm nevertheless. He held her up and lightly tapped the window. Not too quiet for her to miss, and not too loud for everyone else to hear.

Carol shuffled in her bed, and Daryl saw her turn around, her face scrunched up as she fought the sleep.

He tapped again.

Carol's eyes shot open, wide in panic.

Daryl scowled. What could possibly scare her that much?

He had a few theories about her, but he hadn't given them a thought lately. He knew the way she flinched and walked around all hunched meant something. Something he was quite familiar with.

Abuse.

He shook those thoughts off as he saw her calm down. She looked around until her eyes landed on him and Sophia. He didn't know what to do, but her daughter waved and relief showed on Carol's face. Daryl pointed to his left, meaning for her to get the door. Carol nodded and got up immediately. He put Sophia down and they both walked back to the front door.

Carol opened it an urged them inside. She was holding two towels, one which she threw at Daryl. He watched the woman drag her daughter into her room and he hesitantly followed.

He stood in the doorway, watching silently as Carol peered at her daughter.

"What were you thinking?" she asked, "Going out in such a storm?"

"I had to pee, mom," Sophia responded.

Carol raised an eyebrow.

Sophia raised one back.

Daryl found himself amused by the situation. They had their own little staring contest, both of them looking defiantly at each other. Sophia seemed to be having a hard time not blinking, but Carol was the one who lost.

She sighed in defeat. "Go."

Sophia was flying down the hall the moment those words left her mouth. Then the footsteps stopped and retreated. Seconds later, she was back at the door frame.

"Where's the bathroom?"

Carol chuckled, "Third door to the right."

"Isn't it always in the right?" Sophia said to herself.

Carol laughed as she watched her go; her daughter was like a river, always running.

She shook her head and finally looked at Daryl and her breath hitched. She wasn't going to lie, that man was handsome.

But standing right in front of her, clothes soaked and clinging to his skin, his hair dripping wet, with dirt on his face, Carol was sure God was testing her right now.

And she wasn't sure she was going to pass it.

She had never found sweaty and dirty men arousing, but she wouldn't mind being sweaty and dirty with him.

Her eyes widened. Well that turned out very graphic in her head.

Daryl bit the inside of his cheek. He felt her eyes roam all over his body and he felt ashamed. Here he was, all dirty and disgusting as he stood in her room. He looked down to his feet. He couldn't look at her. The woman had on a pair of shorts and a damn tank top. Nothing else. And she still looked fucking regal, like a pageant queen who had just gotten up from bed.

His uneasiness disappeared when she spoke.

"Did she ask you to bring her here?"

Daryl shook his head. He saw Carol's lips twitched upwards. "Nah. Heard her outside, went to check. Found her lookin' like a deer caught in the headlights."

Carol laughed, "I can see that."

They remained in silence for a while. It was comfortable, just like always. Daryl was never comfortable with people, but she seemed bearable.

They heard the toilet flush and Carol moved to grab a bag from under her bed.

"I'd like her to stay here for the night," she turned to give him a smile, "That is, if you don't mind."

Daryl nodded, "Sure. No problem."

"What about you?" she asked, "Are you staying?"

Daryl's eyes widened. Carol caught up quickly, "Oh, no. I didn't mean here. I meant in the cabin. I'm sure there are spare rooms, right?"

Daryl shook his head, avoiding her eyes, "Can't. Someone has to look after the kids."

"Right," Carol stepped closer to him, smiling awkwardly.

Daryl gulped loudly. He didn't dare look at her. It felt too intimate. He hadn't been in a room with a woman alone in years.

But her tone was so soft he couldn't help but meet her eyes as she said, "Thank you, for looking after my daughter. Sophia thinks she's totally independent, but she still needs help."

Daryl nodded, and with a smile so small Carol would've missed it if she had blinked, he was out of the room.

Carol Peletier had lost her faith in the kindness of strangers, especially men, a long time ago, but for some reason, Daryl Dixon seemed set on restoring it.