A/N: this is a little bit of an inner dialogue piece for Daryl - since I personally believe that we really only speak in accents as an adjustment to our external environment, I didn't write it with one - do you ever notice how most songs are sung without an accent? - well, thoughts are the music of our minds

I can see it in her eyes when she walks by me. The way she slows down whatever task she is doing when I am near, whether it is handing me a plate or changing Judith. She smiles more now at me, every time our eyes meet, and I find myself smiling back, uncontrolled. She doesn't seek me out for long conversations, but when we do talk, I sense she is considering every word. On the rare occasions we touch, I have felt her linger, just a second or two longer than necessary.

I find myself wondering now if maybe she really was serious, up there, that night on the bus. I thought she was teasing, so I brushed it off, and when she did too, I just let it drop. But maybe she was testing the waters and gauging my reaction. I watch her when she isn't looking, and I wonder what it is she might see in me. Is it merely an elimination process of available partners? This isn't my thing, so I don't spend a lot of time on it. But I do wonder why she treats me differently.

I've caught myself leaning closer when she speaks to me, and smiling when she thanks me for bringing back squirrels from a hunt. I don't know why I am doing these things. I don't know why I seek her out sometimes with a basic question, and hang around long enough to get some personal observation from her. I don't know why I stay a little longer after a meal and help her gather the dishes. I've almost asked her once or twice to come and sit with me on watch to keep me company, but I'm not sure why that would even interest her. She finds reasons to join me for a few moments when I am, but she never stays, maybe because I've never asked her to.

There are a few nights I've woke up in a sweat, unable to breathe, and I hear her stir in her cell, like she's been keeping watch over me, but she never comes out. I hear her some nights struggling with her own bad dream, and I stand outside her cell until she calms and her breathing steadies, but I never go in, what would I do or say? Hold her? Remind her that her little girl is gone? No, I just stand watch over her like I stand over all of them. But toward her I feel something more, a closeness that isn't as natural with the others. Yet I hold her at arms length. I don't like being touched or hugged or held, and I have a hard time doing these things.

I am damaged. I am wounded. I am not lovable.

Sometimes when I am around her, I forget this though. Sometimes I let my hand graze hers. Sometimes I let our shoulders touch or our knees, but never for long. I pull away once I become aware of my discomfort. She's never called me on it, just accepts it I guess. If I wanted to give her more, I wouldn't know where to begin.

I wonder sometimes if she might just give up on me. She deserves a lot more. Maybe one day she'll find it. Then what would I do? I'm not sure. My jealousy is more of a rage thing, and rage burns itself out. I'd just let it. I don't fight for the things I want. I show my anger, but I don't try to claim them. This bothers me. I don't have to be the man I was. She isn't the woman she was. Our world is different now. We can be different.

I sometimes wonder what her lips would feel like. If I ran my thumb over them. If I leaned in even closer when she is asking me something and placed a kiss on hers with mine - soft, gentle, barely touching. Would she back away in shock? Or move closer and meet me, moving her lips slightly against mine. Would she exhale or inhale? Would I? Could I even breathe?

I am afraid of disappointing her. She deserves someone who can give her the things she's never had. Just because I wouldn't hit her or be cruel to her doesn't mean I can give her what she needs. But I don't know what she needs.

She says these things, little things, all of the time that make me feel like I am needed by the group. They all say we are family, but she makes me feel like we are. She goes out of her way to spend time with me. When we gather as a group, she is often by my side, sometimes she puts herself there, but often I am the one that seeks her out. I feel comfortable near her, and comforted by her. She gives me looks of support and words of encouragement. I feel that she looks to me more than Rick when decisions are being made, and I find myself looking to her.

I sense that if I asked her for anything, she would give it, without question. I have her loyalty, her friendship, and it seems, even her respect. I suppose if I wanted more she would flow along like she always does, with everything. I don't know why I hold this privilege with her. It is as if she has wordlessly declared she is mine. How can I meet her here in this silent space? Can our mutual affection conquer demons of our pasts? I grew up in a conditional love environment, I don't know how to function in the open.

It feels strange to be needed, even stranger to be wanted.

She told me I found her. I've been chewing on that and can't let it go. I know she meant more than just finding her that day in the tombs, but I don't know what to say to her. Sometimes I feel compelled to tell her that we found each other, but what would she say? If I admit this to her, where would we go from there? Then I think maybe we are already here, and we both know it. All that remains is acknowledgement and then nothing will really change, we just won't be operating in the blind.

Is all that remains the verbal declaration and the physical consummation? Seems very much like marriage. So how did we get here then, to this place? Did love surprise us and carry us on in its silent infinity until we opened our eyes one day to see the other standing there, sharing a life?

I know if I reach out my hand she will take it. I know if I kiss her she will kiss back. I know if I ask it, she will say yes. The answer will always be yes.