You know what makes me happy? You guys! With your reviews and your follows and your favorites and I adore all of you for it. Is that weird? Oh well ;) this should be a happy place. Well. The AN, anyways. No promises about the story...

ObjectiveObserverFromAfar- Again, I'm jealous of your ability to write coherently when tipsy. Is there some secret I'm unaware of? I'm glad you still think Taylor's fabulous, though. She's been having kind of a rough time. Dumb Daryl. As for ending the angst...we shall see.

hideher- they're not communicating well. At all. And to be honest, I don't think Daryl's the only one at fault here. Glad you picked up on that.

NanamiYatsumaki- yep! baby steps, right? But their physical relationship can only go so far...

CreepyDaisy- Nope! Not weird at all! Sorry to hear about your frustrations, but I think it's warranted, considering how much it would suck to try and be with emotionally stunted Daryl. Thanks, and welcome! :)

ChooseJoy- Hah! Thanks to you. Baby steps. I think it would be too easy to annoy him when you really wanted to. And kind of priceless. Can you imagine him with a toddler? (and I mean a real toddler, now, not just being sexy and swooping in and saving a kid or dirty talking a baby)

ReaJosette- Things are getting kind of complicated, huh? Thank you :)

MollyMayhem84- I'm sorry. Could not compute saying no to Daryl. Could not do it. Things aren't really black and white, though. Blah. COMPLICATIONS AND SHIT. Because where's the fun in simplicity, I ask you? Also, I hope you start having a good time with getting hitched and don't fall off of Niagara Falls, please (if you're still going. Maybe? You should. Treat yo self girl. Also, what else is there in Canada? ;))

niltiaccampbell- ohmygosh! Thank you! hahaha. I TRY and keep him Daryl, emotionally a ridiculously angsty teenager and all.

Speaking of other stories. I beta another one! For ChooseJoy! Haven't you heard of her? Anyways. Wouldn't mention it except for she's being a tease about updating, so you need to go read Home and kick her ass into gear. Love you, dear :)

Thanks ohsoverymuch to jouetdedestin, Guest, Maddy-MarieXO and xBlackxRosexRebellionx for their wonderful reviews, as well as to theodora22, niltiaccampbell, , jlreck, juliannemayfair, Lightest'Ink, slspiker0607, supereggbox, moonquirk, and CreepyDaisy for follows/favorites. Y'all all rock.

Okay! That's it! Read on...because I think this is the chapter you might've been waiting on :)

Another shit night, another shit place to hole up in.

This was my fourth straight night taking watch, and it was really starting to catch up to me. I wouldn't have it any other way, though, not when doing this simple task was a good enough reason to keep me away from Daryl. Nothing could happen if we weren't ever in the same space, and even if I was dog tired, I could tell myself it was worth it.

Because it had to be worth it. It had at least kept us from talking since we had gotten back from the hunting trip, though I had gotten the sense that he wanted to talk, felt it in the way he looked at me. Even tonight, he had insisted on taking watch for Glenn, and seemed put out when I had made sure we were on opposite sides of the house. But I didn't care. I wouldn't allow it. I could imagine what he had to say. Not to let it get to my head. That I shouldn't expect anything more from him.

I looked back to the empty front yard and yawned, running my hands over my face, blinking sleepily.

"You too, huh?"

I turned to see Rick coming up the porch stairs from around the back of the house where Daryl was supposed to be.

"What?" I asked as he came to stand next to me, bearing his weight on the railing.

"You're tired," he said, though the comment seemed almost laughable coming from his worn, exhausted face.

"I'm alright," I said, standing up straighter, trying to look alert.

But he didn't buy it. "What is this, your third night? Fourth? Go inside. Get some rest."

"No, I'm really fine," I protested, though halfhearted. I was so completely exhausted. Night after night of watch would do that to a person. Although I didn't want to admit it, I was ready to crash completely.

"You can't do much if you're collapsing. Go on." He gave me a small, empty smile that barely stayed on his lips for more than a second.

I hesitated before nodding. "Thanks," I said, and went inside before pride got the better of me.

God. Sleep had never seemed so inviting. But my options were slim. I went through the list in my head slowly. Couch occupied, at least three bedrooms taken, Rick and Daryl outside… That should mean one bedroom open.

I went up the stairs blearily, my foot catching on one of the stairs, making me trip. I caught myself with my hands, but not in time to stop my knees from hitting the next step with a loud thud. I swore loudly, pushing myself back up, grumpy by the time I made it to the only empty bedroom left. I pushed the door open, rubbing my eyes, and nearly jumped out of my skin when a figure in the bed at the corner of the room sat up, alert at my entrance.

"Shit," I said, finding myself looking at Daryl. "What are you doing here?"

"Tryin' to sleep, 'fore you busted in," he said, gesturing at me, sounding harassed.

"Sorry," I whispered. "I- I thought it was empty. You're supposed to be on watch," I accused lamely.

"So're you."

"Yeah, well. Rick shanghaied me."

He laid back down. "Got us both then. T's out there fer me."

Dammit. Why hadn't I considered that Rick would relieve him, too? I turned to the door, wanting to make myself leave, but couldn't. This was the first time I had been even remotely close to being alone with him, and even though it was exactly what I had been trying to avoid, I found the temptation too hard to resist. "Why aren't you asleep?" I asked, lingering.

"Don't sleep much these days. 'Sides, you bangin' up the stairs would've woke me anyhow," he said, sounding more relaxed, shifting a little so I could catch the teasing look in his eyes.

I glared at him, not in the mood. "I'm tired, alright? I don't sleep much either." I paused. "I'm just gonna sleep in the hall or something, then."

He tilted his head forwards. "Why?"

"Well," I said, holding up my fingers to count people off, "Glenn and Maggie are in the bedroom down the hall. No way am I going in there. Lori's got the master, probably because of the whole baby thing. I think Carl is supposed to be with her, but who the fuck knows what he's doing these days? Hershel and Beth in bedroom number two. Carol on the couch downstairs. And then you're in here. So." I shrugged. "I'll get a pillow from somewhere," I said reluctantly, not at all looking forward to another shitty night of restlessness.

"Don't be stupid, you ain't sleepin' on the floor."

I raised my eyebrows, putting one hand on my hip. "Unless you've got a mattress hidden behind that crossbow-"

"Ya can sleep here," he said, nodding to the open space of bed next to him.

There was a moment of intense silence while I tried to respond. I was thankful it was dark, concealing my blush. "No. That's not a good idea."

"Just sleepin'." He crossed his arms behind his head, still looking at me. "You got a better idea?"

I pursed my lips, pretending to think. "Um, yeah. Pretty much anything else. At all."

He looked annoyed. "Fine, then. Sleep on the damn floor."

It was a challenge, I knew it. But I couldn't tell what the winning decision was. I looked back to the hall, the hardwood floors looking even less inviting than before, and then back to the bed space that was being offered. My exhaustion won out. "Fine," I said haughtily, bending to slip off my shoes. I didn't look at him as I came over to the side of the bed, waiting for him to move, but he didn't. "Care to scoot over, Dixon?"

"Nope," he said coolly, provoking me. I could have just gone to the foot of the bed and gotten on that way, but he was looking at me, daring me, and hell if I would let him win now.

"Fine," I said again, just as nonchalant, and placed a hand on the bed near his chest, swinging my leg over his body. I had meant to just roll right over him, but realized too late the compromising position of being on all fours above him, our faces dangerously close. My hair fell around us, creating a curtain, giving me nowhere else to look but at him. His arms, still behind his head, were tensed, the lines of his muscles defined and all too enticing. It would be so easy to duck down and run my tongue over him, taste him, those arms of pure sex, make them twitch, and I swallowed audibly, my mouth suddenly dry. I could feel the electricity between us, though we weren't even touching, my body practically begging for him, all my senses demanding more. I knew his eyes were on my face, but I kept away from his gaze, knowing it would do me in, keeping locked on his lips, feeling my own part-

But no. I snapped my mouth shut, pushing myself quickly all the way over him, rolling away until my back was against the wall. He didn't stop me, didn't even move or look at me, though I could see his chest rising and falling with breaths that were coming just as fast as my own, his fingers flexing behind his head.

I shut my eyes, closing him out, but it didn't help much. I could still hear him, and fuck, I could feel him there, could easily imagine exactly where his body was in relation to mine. All of a sudden, the bed felt much too small, the centimeters of space between us not nearly enough, and I found myself very much awake.

I knew I needed to leave, but I couldn't make myself do it. I wanted to be close to him, damn it all. Weeks ago, before I had ever even thought of strip target practice, this might not have been such a problem, and I craved that simplicity almost as much as I craved him. I could feel it in my stomach, the need to be with him beyond physical boundaries, and knew I was just screwing myself over more. This was a precarious game I was playing.

I heard him move, the mattress creaking a little, and I closed my eyes tighter, trying to resist the urge to reach out to him.

"Taylor," I heard him say, his voice strained, and I opened my eyes to find his head turned, facing me, the arm closest to me gone from behind his head, outstretched towards me. I knew he would touch me, knew where it would lead, and I wanted it so bad, but I instead turned to my other side so my back was to him.

"Night," I breathed, not at all close to going to sleep. I felt like a livewire, electric, ready to go. I curled in on myself, bringing my knees to my chest, trying to be as small as possible.

The silence was almost devastatingly thick. I could hear my heart beating, hear our every breath, could almost hear the sizzle of the desire between us. And so, when I felt his fingers brush lightly over my arm, trailing down over my shoulder blade, it took everything I had to keep still. I had a long sleeve shirt on, but the material was tight, and I could feel him easily, the way his fingertips grazed over me so softly. He passed his knuckles up my spine, coming to the nape of my neck to weave some of my hair between his fingers, pulling through the strands and letting them fall back on the pillow when he got to the ends. I held my breath, waiting for him to touch me more, but his hand dropped down to the mattress.

I held my hands over my mouth, trying to stifle the sounds of my ragged breaths, ignoring the goosebumps on my skin.

This wasn't good for me, what I was feeling, worse now after his gentleness. Why couldn't he just make up his mind? But I couldn't leave him. Just one last night, I reasoned with myself. I would talk to him tomorrow. End it all.

Maybe if I repeated it enough I would have the strength to do it.


When I woke up the following morning, he was gone. I laid there, looking at the shadows cast on the wall from the steady rain dripping down the windows. Great. It always seemed to be raining these days. Cold and wet and more distanced from Daryl than ever. I only let myself dwell on it for a second, tracing over my shoulder where he had touched me before pushing myself off the bed. I slipped on my shoes, taking one last look around the room, sighing. I was getting more and more behind Rick's pipe dream of finding something more permanent.

I exited the bedroom at the same time as Glenn and Maggie. We nodded at each other wordlessly before heading down the stairs, already knowing what had to be done, the systematic packing. We had unloaded the cars this time, taking stock of what we had, seeing what we needed to take in terms of clothes, anything to help with the continuous cold, and they would have to be packed up again. It was becoming monotonous, always the same days of survival, but we didn't have the privilege of choices anymore.

I worked with everyone else, the rain wiping away my lethargy still there from not having gotten the sleep I was wanting. At the thought of how I had instead spent the night, I looked to Daryl, who was lifting his bike into the back of the pickup with Rick. I knew I was running out of time, and I loaded one last bag before coming over to him. He was wiping his hands on his jeans, looking at his packed up bike a little reproachfully. I knew he would be feeling the need to ride right now, and not being able to would do nothing to improve his mood or my case.

"Can I talk to you?" I asked, touching his wrist before thinking better of it and dropping my hand.

He looked at me, drops of rain dripping from his hair down his nose, catching in his stubble, blue eyes sticking out against the stormy gray backdrop of sky, and I had to fight to keep my face neutral. Did he have to look like fucking poetry?

"Fine," he said, and followed me a couple feet away, near the Hyundai, still in sight, the rain blocking any listening ears.

I took a breath, all too aware of the way my shirt was clinging to my skin. My nerves had the words coming out in a rush. "We need to stay away from each other."

He blinked at me. "What the hell are you sayin'?"

"Last night can't happen again." I cleared my throat, forcing myself to continue. I couldn't possibly be faltering this fast, not when, at the of the night, nothing had really happened. "We need to...just...stay away."

He scoffed, and I looked back up to his eyes. "Just how the hell do you 'xpect to manage that?" He leaned in closer. "Dunno if you've noticed, girl, but we've got close quarters now. Ain't no such thing as stayin' away."

I was irritated by his response, as if I wasn't constantly aware of how close we were always forced to be. "You think I haven't fucking noticed that?"

"You ain't acting like it."

I had been so determined not to let him get to me, but I was failing fast. "What I'm acting like is tired. Tired of the crap you keep pulling. And I'm done with it. So fucking done." I ran my hands through my hair roughly, trying to calm myself down. "This whole thing has been so fucked up, and it's killing me, Daryl. So I just need us to keep some space." This confrontation had gotten much more melodramatic than I intended. I turned around, needing to leave, knowing nothing good would come from me staying.

"'Ey!" he called out, angry. "Don't walk away!"

I didn't stop, throwing my words over my shoulder. "Nothing more to say, Daryl."

"This is some bullshit."

Those words stopped me in my tracks. I took a breath, bowing my head forward, trying to move again, but I couldn't help it. I turned around, marching back to him, expecting him to back down, but he stood his ground. "What's bullshit, exactly? Besides pretty much every single fucking thing you've pulled with me?"

Instead of moving away, he took a step closer to me, menacing. "I wasn't the one who kept pushin' this. Hell, I ain't even the one who fuckin' started. That was your idea," he said, pointing at me.

I was a little thrown off by the truth of what he was saying, and I scrambled for a response. "Fine," I acknowledged, frowning. "I initiated this. But it wasn't me who fucking flipped out every time we did anything. You wouldn't even talk to me. You just shut me out."

"Right," he sneered, "'cause you've been doin' so much talkin'."

"And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"You didn't do jackshit for talkin'. Just kept pullin' goddamn stunts."

I crossed my arms defensively. "What stunts?" I asked, though I already knew.

"What do you call stealin' my bike and goin' off by yourself, just beggin' for shit to happen to ya?"

"Do you not remember why that happened? You took me out in the middle of nowhere, had sex with me, and then acted like you were doing me a favor," I said, louder than I meant to. I looked around, checking myself, making sure we hadn't gotten any unwanted attention, but the everyone was still going about their business. I looked back to him and spoke more quietly. "Besides, what about you? You fucking moved your tent a mile away just to avoid talking to me!"

"You don't wanna talk. When you lost your damn mind at the house, I asked what the hell was wrong with ya. Went from fuckin' yelling to bein' on your knees in front of me!"

I cringed a little at the crudeness, but we were both reaching a breaking point that I couldn't stop careening towards. "That was because- look, I saw Glenn and Maggie-"

"There ya go again, bringing them into it, like it fuckin' matters. I don't give two shits 'bout what they're doin'."

"You don't give two shits about me, either," I said, the words coming out before I could think about them.

He stared at me, then shook his head. "You're a right piece of work, you know that?" He waved me off when I started to respond. "Just hold your damn tongue for a second, Jesus." He turned around, putting the last bag into the trunk before slamming it shut, then looked at me, seeming to make up his mind. "Alright, fine. You wanna talk? Let's talk, then. You don't know what the hell you're doin'. Ya don't want me to act different, but ya don't want me to be the same, neither. Here ya are, whinin' 'bout me, but I ain't the one dancin' around, not sayin' shit, refusin' to do what needs to be done just outta spite, and I ain't the one threatenin' to walk away. That's all on you," he said, his accent thick.

I wanted to argue, to deny, but I couldn't, because he was right. My mouth opened and closed, and he tilted his head back, looking down at me, seemingly gratified by my lack of ability to respond. I was stuck, seeing our situation grow more complicated before my eyes, dozens more shades of grey that I hadn't considered before. I had thought I was being so fucking transparent, but now I wasn't sure.

"So how 'bout you just think on that next time you wanna come cryin' to me."

I was so concentrated on him and what he was saying that I hadn't even noticed that everyone else was finished with their jobs. It took the car doors slamming for me to break from my reverie, and I looked around to see the cars loaded with both our supplies and our people.

A slight, embarrassed blush crept up my cheeks. We were holding everyone up.

"You two coming?" T-Dog asked from the driver's seat of the truck.

"Yeah," I said, giving Daryl another hard look. "Wait," I said more quietly, checking off the cars and people, coming to a quick realization. "The cars are full."

And it was true. I had been so fucking caught up in everything that we had both somehow missed the fact that putting away Daryl's bike would mean one more person in the cars. Now I could see that I had backed myself into a fucking corner, the only two seats left in the truck next to T, the rest of the cars already ready to go.

"So much for 'stayin' away,'" Daryl said.

I cursed viciously to myself. Damn him for distracting me. I was fucked, and I knew it, but I wouldn't let him know it. I walked past Daryl, ignoring the raised eyebrows look he gave me, and slid into the middle of the truck bench, crossing my legs, staring stonily at my knees. He came in next to me, his jean clad thigh brushing against me, and I shivered.

I had at least tried, had at least fulfilled that promise to myself. Problem was, now I wasn't even sure if I was in the right anymore.

Well, shit. Complications abound. Maybe things aren't so black and white after all? You tell me. In a review. See you next week, lovers ;)