A/N: Don't own (although I'd love to have my very own Norman Reedus :D) don't sue!

Lyrics are from 'Rain' by Patty Griffin

Rain

Chapter Six

It's hard to listen to a hard, hard heart
Beatin' close to mine
Poundin' up against the stone and steel
Walls that I won't climb
Sometimes a hurt is so deep, deep, deep
You think that you're gonna drown
Sometimes all I can do is weep, weep, weep
With all this rain fallin' down
Strange, how hard it rains now
Rows and rows of big dark clouds
When I'm holding on underneath this shroud
Rain
It's hard to know when to give up the fight
Some things you want will just never be right
It's never rained like it has tonight before
Now, I don't wanna beg you, baby
For something maybe you could never give
I'm not lookin' for the rest of your life
I just want another chance to live
Strange, how hard it rains now
Rows and rows of big dark clouds
When I'm holdin' on underneath this shroud
Rain

"They are your legs, not limp spaghetti! Straight! Straight!"

She lifted her gaze from her homework. Even through her earphones she could hear the voice cracking like a whip through the huge hall. She despised that man. The bald shiny head reflecting the bright lights, the stench of cigars and hideous musty cologne. She didn't like the way he spoke to her sister. She shifted in the dusty seat until she could see Callie. A flicker of white against the black curtains protecting the painted sets. She hoped that one day she'd be that tall but she doubted it. Callie was so tall, with such long slender limbs that always bent the way she wanted them to, unlike hers. When her long shining hair wasn't contained in a tight bun, it shimmered down her back like sunlight. Her face was shining with sweat as she worked, her white leotard stained and damp.

She leaned over the edge of the seat in front. The slippers had been made especially for her, a gift for her sixteenth birthday a few months earlier. She'd tried them on once while Callie was at school. They were much too big but they were soft and supple and they shone in the light. She'd put them back wrong and Callie had hit the roof. After the initial fight, Callie had told her that those slippers were very important to her and she must promise never to play with them again, but if she was gentle she could look at them sometimes. She'd never taken her up on the offer, no matter how much she wanted to.

"I'm trying. We've been at this for hours. I'm tired." Callie snapped as she moved back towards the centre of the stage.

"Shall I get my violin?" He sneered. "Do it again."

Her little hands curled angrily around her book and she would have thrown it at him, if Callie hadn't glanced up at her as if she knew exactly what she was going to do. She sat back in the seat. As much as she intently disliked that man, Callie said he helped her get better. She didn't see how Callie could ever get any better, but then her plump little ten-year-old limbs refused to move the way Callie's did no matter how hard she tried.

It was almost an hour later when he was finally satisfied and Callie came to collect her. She looked exhausted and very sweaty, but her face was shining with pride. She followed Callie out of the fire exit and around the building towards the street.

"What's the hold up, kid?" Callie called when she realised her sister wasn't besides her.

She'd come to a halt at the opening of the alleyway, her bright green eyes fixed intently on the street opposite them. She jumped when Callie touched her shoulder.

"What's up?"

Her hair was down and it shone in the darkening afternoon light.

"I thought I saw…"

Callie followed her sister's gaze but she couldn't see anything. There were lots of people surging along the busy streets, hurrying home from work and on their way to meet people. No one was paying them any attention. Callie was concerned. Her sister was a brave spunky little kid who had taken on a gang of thirteen year old kids who were bullying her friend without thinking twice about it. She looked pale and frightened.

"What's wrong?"

After a moment she shook her head and turned away.

"Nothing. I'm fine. Let's go home, I'm starving!"

"I told you not to watch those movies." Callie teased as she led her towards the bus stop. "They'll give you nightmares."

"Will not."

"Will too!"

"Nuh uh!"

"Uh huh!"

"Cassidy?"

The book on her knee slipped and landed on the wooden floor with a slap. She blinked and turned back to Carl. He'd fallen asleep while she was reading to him and she must have slipped into a daydream. She'd been trying to stay away from Daryl, not trusting herself to stick to her resolution in his intoxicating presence, so working with Carl and keeping him entertained was as good a distraction as any. She retrieved the book.

"Finally awake, sleepyhead?"

He grinned. Her smile flickered when she saw what was in his lap. She had brought her bag in with her and while she'd been daydreaming, he'd obviously gone through it. He saw what she was looking at.

"My mom knocked it over."

Of course she had. Cassidy didn't comment. She'd reserve that for Lori later.

"They're ballet slippers." She said. "For dancing."

"You must be good." He said, handing them back to her. "Why would you keep them, otherwise?"

He really was such a bright kid, he always got straight to the heart of the matter. Sheriff's son.

"I'm alright." She wrapped the slippers in their soft wrappings and slipped them back into the silken bag they came in. "They were my sister's… and she was very good."

Carl looked at her and she sighed, slipping a cigarette out of her pocket and lighting it.

"Lochie said she died. A long time ago."

"Lochie says too much." Cassidy snapped.

She took a long drag and blew out the plume of smoke before she continued.

"She's dead." She said bluntly. "Ten years ago. She killed herself."

Carl jumped as if he'd been stung. Cassidy hesitated. He was very young to hear about that sort of thing, even under the circumstances. She'd been a little older than him when it had all started, but she hadn't understood what had happened until much later. The door opened and Lori entered with a tray. She frowned at Cassidy as she settled the tray on Carl's knees, fluffing up his pillows.

"I'd appreciate you not smoking in here." Lori said sternly.

"I'd appreciate you not going through my things." Cassidy said sweetly.

Lori glared at her with all the dignity she could muster, but her eyes strayed to the bag between them.

"Did you find what you were looking for?"

They continued to glower at each other until Cassidy stubbed out her cigarette on the sole of her boot, dropped her legs down from the edge of Carl's bed and got to her feet.

"I'll see you later, kid."

"Cassidy!" She paused in the doorway. "Sorry about your sister."

"Morning, sunshine!"

"Fuck off."

Lochie rolled her eyes and kicked the door shut behind her. She waited until Daryl had manoeuvred into a sitting position before handing him the tray of food. He grunted, which she assumed meant thanks. She poked his legs to one side and perched cross-legged on the end of his bed. She reached over and plucked a rather shrivelled apple from the tray.

"She's brooding." Lochie announced after a long uncomfortable silence. "Skulking around outside somewhere with a sulky face an emo would be proud of."

Daryl squinted at her. Lochie was chewing thoughtfully on the apple, her gaze fixed on the window. She was younger than he'd first thought. Cassidy was only twenty-four but Lochie was even younger, and she looked it with her new short hair exposing the pale heart-shaped face.

"She's not as difficult as she likes to think." Lochie sighed, biting into the apple again. "Pretty simple, really. Something happened, when she was a kid. To her sister." Lochie frowned and tossed the apple back onto the tray. "I don't know what happened, she won't talk about it. Anyway. She doesn't trust people. Not even me, really. It's not a personality flaw, it's a personal choice. She chooses not to put herself in a vulnerable position." She drew her knees up to her chin and studied him. "She's so much stronger than you think… and so much more vulnerable." Her grey eyes were very intent on his, there was none of her habitual light-heartedness. "The point is… if she lets you in, appreciate it. It's a bigger step than you think."

She slid down from the bed and padded out of the room.

Daryl looked at the food on the tray. He suddenly didn't have an appetite. He despised lying around helplessly, not knowing what was going on. The fact that Cassidy hadn't been to see him since the night he'd been shot had done nothing to improve his mood.

He moved the tray onto the bedside table. His shoulder was hurting and he couldn't settle. He had nothing to look forward to except a long boring day staring at the four walls of the room again. He tensed when the door opened, but it was only Cassidy.

She'd been sitting outside, smoking and thinking and wishing her chest wasn't aching so much. Why him? Why was he affecting her so badly? She didn't know why all those old memories were resurfacing all of a sudden. It must be that time of year again. He looked at her questioningly. She was half in shadow, leaning back against the closed door.

"I saw Lochie leaving."

He nodded.

"She seems to be telling everyone all my business lately."

"She's worried about you. Said you ain't sleepin'."

Lochie hadn't actually mentioned it but from the dark circles under her usually bright eyes, he was dead on the mark.

"I never have trouble sleeping." She said half-heartedly. "Not usually."

"Why?"

She didn't reply. If she told him about the dreams that had woken her last night and kept her from sleeping again, she'd have to tell him why she was dreaming about such things. Why she heard that voice, those words. All year she pushed those thoughts away, she kept them safe in a dark corner of her mind but her conscience or her subconscious or maybe even the blood linking her to her sister always brought everything she'd buried to the surface around the anniversary of her death.

"You should sleep." He grunted. "You're no use to anyone if you can't even walk in a straight line."

"I can walk just fine." She snapped, demonstrating by crossing the room towards him.

"But you're not sleeping." He pointed out and she frowned.

He shifted across the bed and she peered at him, her brow furrowed in confusion.

"Get in."

"Seriously?" She asked, her voice laced with amusement.

He glared at her as if she had personally offended him. She pondered the idea. Getting into bed with him would make it unutterably harder to keep her hands off him. Her exhaustion made the decision for her. She had experience running on nothing but adrenaline and caffeine but her nightmares were wearing her out. A day or two and she'd be back to normal. He was glowering at her impatiently. She sat down first, unlacing her boots. She felt his hand touch the small of her back, not an exploratory touch but a reassuring one.

She didn't remove her jeans or slide under the sheets, but she lay down besides him just the same.

It wasn't just his aching shoulder that kept Daryl awake. He wasn't entirely sure when she'd gone from stubborn silence to deep sleep, but he found himself wide awake while she slept. Maybe it was some subconscious desire to protect her while she was most vulnerable. He liked the sound of her steady breathing, it was soothing. Lying in a bed with her and not being able to do anything about it, however, was not. Her Led Zeppelin t-shirt had ridden up in her sleep and he could see the bare sweep of her back swelling into her hip. Her jeans had slipped down and there was a red mark on the creamy flesh where her underwear band had dug in. Her hair was pooling on the pillow between them. It smelt of smoke and sunshine.

She let out a strange noise that almost sounded like a whimper. He tensed but she only rolled over. Her long lashes cast shadows on her freckled cheekbones, her plump lips were pursed and her brow was furrowed. The hand now lying between them clenched tightly onto the sheet beneath her, he could see how white her knuckles were. He tried not to notice her bare navel, exposed when her left leg curled over towards him. She looked almost unbearably young in repose and he shifted a few inches further across the bed away from her. This may not have been such a good idea, after all.

All in all it was a torturous few hours. She was so warm besides him, her intoxicating scent and the little noises she made making his heart rate increase until he was almost certain he was about to have a heart attack. She was becoming agitated, her eyes were rolling rapidly and he could see her pulse racing in her bare throat. She woke with a start. For a millisecond she looked terrified and he reached for her automatically. She flinched back.

It seemed to take her an interminably long time to come to her senses. Eventually she recognised him and the rather frightening look on her face faded. Her cheeks were flushed and she was panting, when she raised her hand to push her sweaty hair back from her face he could see she was trembling. He expected her to bolt, probably slamming the door behind her on her way. Instead she let out a moan and flopped back down against the pillows. He thought she might have fainted but he could see her lashes flickering as she blinked.

"Bad dreams?"

She slanted her gaze towards him. He was working very hard to keep his gaze on her face and not on the way her arm thrown up above her head threw the curve of her chest and her bare navel into sharp relief.

"Memories. If you must know." She sighed, fixing her gaze on the ceiling. "Things I'd rather forget."

She rolled over onto her front, cushioning her head on her arms. She was very close to him and he'd run out of bed.

"You'd think after all this… we'd be able to forget who we were. What's happened to us. What we've done."

"I think there's nothing left to do but remember."

She lifted her eyebrows at him.

"Wow. That's pretty deep there, redneck." He glared. "How's your shoulder?"

He shrugged.

"Do you always invite strange girls into your bed?"

"Never met a gal as strange as you, lady."

"And here I am. In your bed."

"Actually you're more… on the bed."

"Prepositions aside, the fact remains the same."

"I have no idea what you just said, Red."

"You do surprise me."

"Was that sarcasm?"

"Evidently."

"You know, I was trying to be helpful-" He broke off abruptly when he realised she was looking at him strangely.

"And I'm very appreciative. How's the shoulder?" She repeated.

Had his arm been dangling by a thread from his shoulder he would have lied about it when he saw the look in her eye. Of course, with her you never knew.

"It's fine."

She rolled back over onto her back and there was definitely something inviting in her green eyes.

"How fine?"

He edged closer to her, leaning over so he could kiss her. His injured shoulder screamed in protest but he ignored it. Her hands went to his arms, squeezing gently until he rested his weight on her. Her fingers caressed his scalp as she ran her hands through his hair. There was a feverish intensity to her kisses and her fingernails dug into his shoulders. He was slightly clumsy and uncoordinated after days of lying in a bed and he felt her laughter ripple against his cheek when his fingers fumbled with the button of her jeans.

She pushed him gently until he was on his back again. She ran her fingertips along the planes of his bare chest, propping herself up on one elbow besides him. Her hand was inching towards his sweatpants when she stopped. He growled in frustration but she was glaring at him.

"You're bleeding." She said in a thoroughly accusing tone of voice that told him her hand was not going any further south any time soon. "You said you were okay."

"I'm fine."

"We were only making out and now you're bleeding! All over these nasty sheets. When was the last time they were changed?"

He stared at her, completely nonplussed at the turn this conversation had taken. To his amazement her hand had unfastened his pants while he'd been distracted. She was pressing butterfly kisses along his jawline.

"You don't have to do that." He said, catching at her hand.

He wasn't entirely sure why he'd opened his mouth, it didn't seem to be connected to his brain anymore and it definitely wasn't attached to other parts of his anatomy.

"I wasn't offering you a hand job as thanks for a two hour nap."

To his immense relief, she did not sound annoyed or insulted. On the contrary she sounded amused more than anything.

"I was doing it because I want to. Of course… if you don't want me to-" She moved to get off the bed but his hand snatched out and caught her back.

She did some last minute manoeuvring and just managed to avoid landing on his injured shoulder as she tumbled back onto the bed.

"I will definitely take you up on that later." Even as he said it he was cursing himself. "You need to sleep or you'll trip over your own feet and hand yourself over to the geeks as brunch."

"Anyone would think you care."

He gave her a dirty look.

"What are we going to do? Cuddle?"

His look became positively frosty and his eyes narrowed so far they were almost slits.

"Spoon? How about if you roll over and I put my arm around you?"

"You're doing this on purpose, ain't ya?"

"Just curious."

"Shut up and go to sleep."

"You going to protect me?"

"Shut up."

"Because right now you don't look like as if you could protect a lettuce leaf from a particularly elderly hungry tortoise."

"Go to sleep."

"I'm just saying. As body guards go, right now I'd probably be better off taking my chances with an arthritic poodle in charge of my safety."

"I take it back. Out."

"You can't just rescind an invitation like that. It's rude. And not very gentlemanly."

"I'm bein' rude?"

"Stop whining, Dixon. I'm trying to sleep."

It was hours later when Daryl finally woke up. Rain was thundering against the window and clattering on the roof. The room was pitch black and the bed besides him was empty. He blinked in the darkness but the rumpled sheets besides him were definitely empty. They were warm though, so she hadn't been gone long. He tensed when the door opened.

"Chill out, redneck. You'll do yourself an injury."

She always sounded happiest when she was ripping into him. Well not 'happy' exactly, more smugly amused. She placed a glass of water on the bedside table.

"What time is it?" He asked gruffly, gesturing for the glass until she handed it to him.

"Either very early or very late, depending on how you look at it. Hence the freezing cold floors."

"So get into bed then." He snapped after he'd gulped half the glass down.

He could almost sense the look she gave him in the dark room but she crept under the sheets nonetheless. He realised she'd changed out of her jeans when her bare thigh brushed against him. She read his silence.

"Have you ever tried sleeping in jeans? So not comfortable."

He wanted to ask why she was still here, why she'd come back to his bed. It must mean something, right?

"Budge up, I'm freezing."

She snuggled right up against him, close enough to feel the heat of his body but not enough to lean against his wounded shoulder.

"You're like a furnace." She mumbled. "Have you got a fever?"

She lifted one arm and pressed her palm against his forehead. It wasn't any warmer than usual.

"I don't have to stay." Her breath was warm on his bare arm.

"You want to leave?" He muttered, already slightly dozy with sleep again.

"Are you kidding? It's arctic out there. The weather in this country is fucked up."

Cassidy and Lochie had moved into a rather large tent Lochie had procured from god-knows-where, almost as soon as she'd joined them. They'd set it up away from both the house and the makeshift camp. If Cassidy left now she'd have to walk in the pouring rain for much longer than she had any intention of doing.

"You want me to leave?"

The pause was almost painful. Two people who never discussed, or even admitted to having, emotions. Cassidy didn't want to think about how much it mattered to her what his reply would be.

"No."

"Are you asking me to stay?"

There was another lengthy pause.

"I'm asking you not to leave."

"Is that the same thing?"

They fell silent.

"I was scared." She finally whispered, and she'd moved so close he could feel her lips moving against his bicep. "When I heard about what happened. I've only felt like that once before. That sick feeling as if there's a lead weight in the pit of your stomach. I never wanted to experience that again."

He felt the tremor run through her body as she shivered.

"Your sister?"

They were getting to the point where they communicated just as well through silence as they did through actual words. Her non-reply spoke volumes more than anything she could have said.

"That was ten years ago, right?"

She sighed.

"Fourteen years ago, actually." She finally said.

Daryl didn't comment. He was pretty much lost right now but he got the feeling he shouldn't interrupt.

"What were you dreaming about?"

He felt her shrug against him. Her hair was soft on his arm and she didn't seem to realise that her hand had latched onto his bicep.

"What happened to your sister?" He guessed.

"No. What I did after what happened to my sister."

She rolled over away from him.

"Don't do that." He growled. He could almost see her clamming up.

"What do you care?" She snapped.

He grabbed her by the shoulders and dragged her back towards him. She struggled half-heartedly. One moment they were struggling and the next they were locked together. They wrestled but Daryl was still injured. His shoulder didn't hurt enough to stop him from tearing off her t-shirt though. His rough hand stroked the tattoo peeking out from under her black bra. She kissed him as she worked on his pants. She used one hand to pull the band down and the other to tickle the sensitive skin she exposed under his bellybutton. She could feel soft downy hair against her knuckles, goosebumps springing up under her fingers.

His fingers worked the clasp of her bra, massaging the tender skin underneath when it released.

His breath hissed sharply between his teeth when she gripped him. He was torn between his own enjoyment, and pointing out that it had been a very long time and he wasn't likely to last nearly as long. He could taste her smirk when she kissed him. He tossed her over and she grunted in surprise.

Had she not been so excited she might have protested at the brutal treatment one of her few pairs of panties were subjected to as Daryl snatched them. The thin wispy lace tore easily.

He decided he rather liked the breathless huffs and gasps she emitted as his slender fingers probed experimentally. From her forceful personality he'd expected her to take charge but she seemed perfectly happy to let him take over. She didn't entirely disappoint his theory of how well he knew her by now, because she never gave an inch. Even when he had her quivering like a badly set jelly against him, he could sense the barriers were still up. Firmly up. It was strange. This was about as intimate as you could get with somebody and yet he felt further away from her than ever.

DalonegaNoquisi – I know he was, I fudged the details a little bit to help along my fic. Here's the next one.

gurl3677 – he got it :) and he'll be getting plenty more

SaraLostInes – thanks I quite enjoyed writing it too lol.

mvolner – thanks very much :D I am a total grammar nazi, people who can't tell the difference between their/there/they're really piss me off. He's the only reason I watch it too, I was on tenterhooks all week waiting for the episode when he was hurt in case they killed him off.