Author's note:

I know I said this would be out in a week from the last chapter, but hey, I finished it early!

Thanks for all the reviews, follows and favourites! Keep 'em coming!

This chapter deals with Sarah's integration with the group in the first week.

Sorry if the narration style is a little confusing... I'm going for an omniscient narrator, but I cheat sometimes by zooming in on the individual characters' perspectives, flipping between characters often... It's because I usually write bits and pieces, and then try and put it all together. And I'm too lazy to rewrite perspectives and "he said, she said's"! Just bear with me! :D Enjoy!

CHAPTER 14

The next night Daryl volunteered for the first watch, and after a short while, Sarah joined him. She had a packet of chocolate-chip biscuits that she fished out of her bag, and she munched away quietly, occasionally offering one to Daryl, who'd take one with a wordless nod. He'd hesitated at first- thinking the food should be shared with the group- but then he'd thought, What the hell. The sugar would help them stay awake. They didn't talk, but simply sat together in companionable silence.

After two hours, Daryl went in and Sarah stayed out and took the second watch as well. She relished the quietness of the next watch- the silence was bittersweet, but she needed the time alone to think about things. After spending three weeks without speaking to another soul, she had her own period of adjustment to get through.

During the day, travelling by vehicle and stopping often to scavenge carefully through any cars or buildings they came across along the way, the rest of the group kept largely to themselves. When they talked, it was between themselves. Maggie and Glenn spent all of their time together, and Rick's family was also at times an impenetrable unit. Something had broken between Lori and Rick, probably as a result of the whole Shane situation, but they still had Carl to unite them.

Whenever the group stopped during the day, Sarah found herself gravitating towards Carl, rather than the rest of the group. Daryl was usually preoccupied with something, hunting or helping the other men scavenge buildings and so on. She felt awkward hanging around the women, who would either go quiet while she was around, or try to make conversation, which was somehow worse. She hadn't quite managed to get past making small pleasantries and casual remarks, so she found herself naturally accepting the more solitary role of keeping watch, which also happened to be Carl's usual job.

She could relax in his presence- she'd always been good with kids. The first day she'd kept watch with him, a walker had come towards them out of the trees.

"Chill out," she'd said to him, as he'd prepared to call out to the group, "I've got this." She strode forwards, unsheathing her blade as she did.

Carl watched with wide eyes.

She glanced over her shoulder at him. "See, you gotta be smart about it. First, make sure the bastard's alone, before you make any noise, like calling out." The walker stumbled closer, arms outstretched, grasping. "Second, make sure you have space to manoeuvre," she continued, keeping distance with the walker, "And thirdly," she raised her blade, "Make sure you get 'em in one swing!" she darted forwards and slightly to the side, keeping out of grabbing range, then swung down her blade with all her might. Its skull was split diagonally, and it dropped like a stone.

The blade was stuck slightly- she had to twist and wrench it out with a grunt of effort. She turned back to Carl- he looked a little pale, but his eyes shone with admiration. "See?" She said, "One swing. And you have to be aware of your environment, 'cause if there's more about, you need to be able to move quick."

From that moment, Carl took every watch with her, and often bombarded her with walker-killing questions and hypothetical scenarios when they were out of earshot of Rick and his mother. She was a little concerned at first by his bloodthirsty interest, but she tried to answer his questions as best she could, always stressing the danger of underestimating them. She took pity on the kid- he was still so young, in a world as rotten as this. And Rick and Lori still treated him like a little kid. It must be lonely, not having any friends his age.

As the days wore on, Sarah started slipping into a routine. She would drive with T-Dog and Carol when they were using the vehicles, and then take watches with Carl during the day. As night fell, she'd go up and join Daryl for the first watch. Maggie and Glenn usually did their watches together, as did Herschel and Beth, so it wasn't a odd thing for them to keep each other company.

Even Daryl got used to it after a while. They didn't always talk, but somehow the hours seemed to go much faster when there was two.

One week after they had left the farm, Daryl came back late from hunting some squirrels in the woods. Sarah was already on the first watch. Daryl dithered a little, then took a plate of food for her and himself. He figured he owed her for the biscuits the other night. As he passed her plate over, he'd intended to return to the campfire, but then she'd looked up at him quizzically.

"Can I borrow your whetstone... Or whatever you use... to, you know, to sharpen a knife..." the colour rose in her cheeks slightly, knowing she was betraying her ignorance with each successive word.

He'd rolled his eyes at her cluelessness, and held out his hand for it, wanting to judge the sharpness for himself (not trusting her university education to have prepared her for these things). She obediently handed over the knife, (a small pocket-knife, not the one she'd previously killed people with...) and waited for the verdict.

The knife was ridiculously blunt, and he told her so with eyebrows raised, amused at her inexperience. She should have sharpened it ages ago- it was worse than useless.

"Oh." She'd said, embarrassed.

He fended off her attempt to take it back, and pocketed it, explaining with a casual shrug that he'd sharpen it himself for her later. She didn't argue, knowing she would probably have made a mess of it anyway.

After that, somehow Daryl found himself sitting with her to finish his meal. When he'd finished eating, he could think of no pressing reason to leave, so he stayed out with her as per usual until the end of the watch.

And just like that, it had become an unspoken routine. Whether it was Sarah or Daryl who went to sit a watch first, the other would join them sooner or later.

Out of the other members of the group, Herschel seemed most kindly disposed towards Sarah, taking an interest in assessing her knee and enquiring after the pain every morning for the next few days, until the swelling went down and the scabs had formed. But even Herschel had his family, and with Maggie preoccupied with Glenn, he was understandably focussed on Beth. They were both still adjusting to the losses of Patricia and Jimmy.

Sarah, Carol, T-Dog and Daryl were the only ones without family (Glenn seemed to have been accepted into Herschel's). Carol didn't make an effort to speak to her much, but Sarah often felt her eyes on her. Daryl, taciturn and largely a 'man of action', didn't say more than was necessary, but at least there was no difference in his treatment of her and the others. Around him, she felt like she'd always been a part of the group.

T-Dog was the only other member of the group to take an interest in getting to know Sarah on a personal level. He'd ask her some questions about where she was from, what she did Before, what manner of groups had she been with? He was a talkative, easygoing guy, but somehow Sarah found it harder to talk to him than it was talking to Daryl.

After so long of being alone, and not trusting others, she was uncomfortable pouring out her life-story to all and sundry. She'd spent so long trying to ignore her past, to bury the memories, good and bad- dwelling too long on either only led to pain. Another factor was that talking about the past felt like telling a lie. She was no longer the same person she'd been even just a month ago- retelling her past was like telling the story of another person, another life. She didn't want to be judged based on the person she used to be.

As a result, her responses were short, abrupt and generally uninformative. After a while, even T-Dog was forced to give up and they lapsed into an awkward silence, so different from the silence she'd shared with Daryl that night on the bus.

T-Dog couldn't wrap his head around it. She refused to talk to him; his attempts at conversation were met with terse, monosyllabic answers and a wooden expression. The only time she seemed to relax was when he talked about himself, or debated what they should do in the future. Yet every night, she went to go and sit watches with Daryl, and then she seemed completely at ease. After that night on the bus though, he noted they didn't seem to be talking much, if at all. He couldn't understand it.

Eight days since leaving the farm, he went over to talk to Carol. They had stopped for the day on the bank of a narrow stream that went under the road, and were using the last hours of daylight to do some much-needed washing.

"Hey." He said, accepting the offered bar of soap from Carol. He crouched at the water's edge and started scrubbing one of his shirts vigorously.

She glanced up at him from her own washing, waiting for him to start talking. T-Dog was easy to read- when he had something on his mind, his usual, relaxed expression would be replaced by deep frown-lines across his brow. It was so obvious it was almost comical.

"So... Whaddya think about Sarah?" he asked abruptly. So that was what was behind his troubled expression.

"I don't know yet." Answered Carol truthfully, "She seems okay."

He nodded, but still looked troubled. "I dunno... I've been tryin' to talk to her, y'know? Tryin' to figure her out." He shook his head, and waved his hand across his face, "But it's just like, nothin'? I don't get it. I mean, you shoulda seen the way she was chattin' away to Daryl the other night-"

"What?" Carol straightened up, surprised.

"I know right? It's bizarre! They were havin' a fat chat, just them. With me- nothin'."

Carol was baffled. How had that happened? She hadn't taken any watches since they'd left the farm, so she hadn't noticed them spending time together. During the day she'd never once seen them have a conversation.

"I got a theory," continued T-Dog, lowering his voice dramatically, "I reckon she's like a... a female Daryl." He chuckled. "It's the only thing that explains it!"

Carol shook her head, but smiled at the strangeness of the thought, "She's quiet, but otherwise she's nothing like him." She said firmly.

T-Dog shrugged. Hadn't the woman just said she didn't know enough about her to make a judgement? Well, he wasn't about to get into an argument about it.

Carol went back to her washing, rinsing the clothing out busily. Internally though, her head was spinning with the possibilities. She abruptly straightened up again, as a thought suddenly struck her. She frowned at T-Dog. "You don't think she... and Daryl..."

T-Dog's eyebrows flew up. He blew out through his cheeks, "Jeez... I guess it's possible?" he said. A man and a woman, it was possible, right? His eyes fell on the distant figure of Daryl, who was half-sitting on the bonnet of a car, busily skinning a squirrel or some similarly unfortunate furry animal with single-minded intensity. Sarah was on the other side of the camp, keeping watch with Carl. She was standing with poise and attitude, looking... well, cool. Carl seemed to be staring up at her with a slightly awestruck expression. "Nope." T-Dog corrected himself. "Not possible."

"She's too young for him, anyway." Said Carol dismissively, picking up the washing again.

"Not necessarily," replied T-Dog after a moment, "I don't reckon age matters so much. Most of the population's dead anyhow! An' she's plenty mature for her age."

Carol looked up at him pensively.

"Nah," he continued, "They jus' don't strike me as the kinda people to be y'know, aware of that kinda thing. 'Specially Daryl!" He laughed, wringing out his shirt. It was impossible to imagine Daryl in a normal, loving relationship... like Glenn had, for instance. It was just impossible. And in his opinion, Sarah was way out of his league anyway. The girl had style, and smarts, and a proper upbringing. After trying to get a fix on her character for the last week, he at least knew that much. But there was still a lot about her that was a mystery. "I'm tellin' you," he continued, "There's more to that girl than she's lettin' on. Did Daryl ever mention t'you how he met her?"

Carol shook her head. "I think he's only told Rick about it." She replied thoughtfully.

T-Dog shrugged. "Thought he might have mentioned somethin' to you..." he said. Carol pursed her lips, stung. He didn't notice. "I'm not one to pry," he continued, with a serious expression, "But... when I asked her 'bout it? She shut up pretty damn fast. I'd be interested in hearin' that story."

Carol nodded slowly. "Me, too."

"An' hell, maybe we have a right t'know?" he said suddenly, "She's sleepin' in the same room as us an' all."

"I don't think she's a threat." Carol said fairly, "You're just over-thinking it."

"Maybe." Admitted T-Dog, and turned to go.

Carol watched him leave.

Her eyes slid up to Daryl, sitting further away, still disembowelling some animal. Since he'd yelled at her that night at the farm, things had slowly mended between them. If anything, she felt they understood each other a little more now. He was no longer pushing her away so much- he seemed more considerate and approachable than ever since they'd left the farm.

Perhaps she would test that theory and ask him about how he met Sarah.

Author's note:

Ooh interesting, will Daryl tell her? Should he? Keeping secrets is dangerous in a small group.

Wouldn't this be hilarious if it was an episode of How I Met Your Mother: "Well kids," (says Daryl), "I stalked your mom in a forest, toting a crossbow, and then watched her gun down four people. It was love at first sight." LOL.