Chapter Five: Ain't Nothin'

Ain't Nothin'

I sat at Hershel's dinner table, across from Lori, and gave her a reassuring smile before passing the rolls to Willa. Half an hour ago, Lori came to me and asked for discretion, telling me that she was pregnant. The burden weighed heavily on her shoulders; she didn't want to put the group in danger, the kind of danger that could get everyone killed. She and I shared a very similar conversation that Willa and I had the week she, Addy, and I arrived at the farm. Willa had gotten pregnant before the outbreak, but her concerns were the same as Lori's. Neither of the women wanted their children to know only pain and suffering, they were concerned that the babies' cries would draw walkers to camp, and they were terrified of the act of childbirth.

"It seems cruel," Lori has said to me as we talked privately.

Willa has said the same. It was cruel to bring a life into this world just to watch the baby suffer and to not know happiness. "Just because this world is different, it doesn't mean that your baby won't know joy or love," I had told her, mimicking the same words I had told Willa.

"I needed a C-Section with Carl," she had told me.

I assured her that even though I had never done a cesarean, between Willa, Hershel, and I, we would be able to accommodate her. We had the better part of a year to practice and learn. Willa had actually been involved in several during her shifts at the emergency room. I could see the relief in Lori's eyes as I added that bit of information. She saw that this was something that we could do. And her baby wouldn't even be the first one born in the group.

I hadn't asked how Rick felt, and from what I had witnessed at the beginning of dinner, he was equally as terrified, but there was something more going on behind his eyes than just fear.

The dinner had started off pleasantly with Rick cheering Hershel for his hospitality, Lori and Carol mentioning Willa and I for helping their children in a time of need. Willa was built for this more than I, for she responded eloquently while I nodded and smiled before returning my attention to Addy, Carl, and Sophia, who were sitting at a round table chatting away happily, blissfully naive to the occurrences of the day.

I wished I made a point to sit with Maggie, Beth, Glenn, and Jimmy as the multitude of conversations were had amongst the table. It wasn't that they weren't pleasant or entertaining, my mind was simply elsewhere. The barn full of walkers, Shane's blatant display of anger, Lori and Willa's pregnancies, but if I was being honest, as I sat amongst friends and family, I found myself wishing that Daryl was there and not down the hall. So when Carol announced that she was going to take him a plate of food, I volunteered to do it instead.

"You aren't finished eating," Willa pointed out quietly.

I picked up my own plate. "I'll eat in there then," I said.

She looked at my conspicuously by narrowing her eyes slightly and pursing her lips together, but didn't vocalize her disapproval.

Carol handed me the plate she had made for Daryl and nodded a thank you before she followed me into the kitchen. "Charlie?"

"Hm?" I asked as I faced her.

She leaned against the kitchen counter with one arm wrapped around her side and the other hand toying with the charm on her necklace. She looked nervous, as if she wasn't sure if she should be speaking to me. "Daryl can be… difficult."

Oh, I know. I've had at least two front row seats experiencing his "difficulty" so far. "Uh-huh."

"He's been through a lot, I mean, we all have, but he has too. He lost his brother recently. He took it hard."

My heart went out to Daryl as I thought about the sheer devastation one must feel after losing a sibling, especially now. This world was cruel and lonely, you needed family to make it.

"When my husband, Ed, died… he was bit, Daryl was good to me and Sophia."

I stepped closer to Carol. "I am so sorry to hear about your husband-,"

Carol shook her head. "He was a real monster, I suffered under his hand and so did Sophia." She paused. "When we saw your… burn marks-"

"Those aren't from Hershel or anyone else here," I said quickly. I didn't want her to feel threatened by anyone or her to think that I was still experiencing abuse. It's always been important to me that I've moved on from those experiences, even if they still lingered in my subconscious. "My monster is long gone from my mind." I paused. "If you or Sophia need to talk about your traumas, though I'm here."

Carol smiled weakly and nodded. I wish she saw what I did- a determined woman willing to fight for what she loved. One day, I know she'll see it, but until then she'll have to have faith that she'll pull herself out of Ed's shadow. She made it this far, and it wasn't just because she was pulled by the group. Carol wasn't dead weight, despite that's how she may have felt about herself.

"I just didn't want you thinking poorly of Daryl," she finally said.

I nodded. "I don't," I said softly before turning to walk towards Hershel's office. I couldn't say that I was surprised that Daryl and Carol had a connection. She and I were more similar than I could have realized and we were both drawn to Daryl in some way or another. I wondered why that was.

I used the toe of my shoe to gently push open the door to see Daryl with his back turned to the hallway. The light from the hall illuminated the room slightly and I could see that he hadn't put on his shirt after Hershel had stitched up his side. While the light was dim, the long scars that traced his back were visible. The whitish pink lines stood out on his tan back. Emotions flooded through me as I took in the sight of a sleeping Daryl. I should have recognized the signs of being a survivor of abuse- his short temper, the way he was constantly defensive, how he could barely be reasoned with when he felt cornered. Then it dawned on me, he didn't want me to sew up his side, not because he thought I wasn't competent enough to do so, but because he didn't want me to see the evidence of his years of abuse. I was such an ass to him, and it made me feel physically sick. When did I stop looking for ways to advocate for the patient, even in times like this?

Not knowing what to do, I backed up into the doorway and cleared my throat. "Knock, knock," I said loud enough to wake him.

He stirred and sat up almost instantly, pressing his back against the small headboard of the cot and pulling the blanket to his chest.

"Thought you might be hungry," I said as I placed his plate on the table next to him. I sat on Hershel's desk with my legs crossed, my own plate in my hands. "How are you feeling?"

"Didn't think ya were gonna' talk to me after earlier."

I shrugged. "You were shot, you get a pass," I said, not wanting to let him know I knew the real reason. If he wanted me to know, he would tell me on his own terms when he felt the time was right. Something as delicate as this couldn't be forced, just as he didn't ask me about my own scars.

"You doing any better?"

He nodded, taking a bite of the roll. I looked down at my own plate and decided that the best thing I could do about my reaction to Daryl's refusal to let me suture him was to follow his lead and pretend it didn't happen. I was normally fond of this technique, but something told me that everyone had turned the other way when it came to Daryl Dixon and his abuse. While it didn't sit right with me, I thought it was the most option given the circumstances.

"Ya one of them girls who eat like a bird?" Daryl asked.

I smirked, looking at him. "No, not usually." I sat my plate on the desk and stretched my arms over my head. "Just not particularly hungry."

"'Cause of what happened with Shane?"

The question caught me off guard. I hadn't pegged Daryl for one to dive into something that really wasn't his business. He wasn't a friend of Shane's by the way the two interacted and I wasn't sure what I was to Daryl. "It's just been a long day," I said vaguely.

Daryl grunted and returned his attention to the food on his plate.

As we sat there in comfortable silence, I contemplated discussing Shane with Daryl. If I ever wanted him to open up to me, I knew I had to do it first. While Daryl was strong and determined, he was basically a child when it came to his emotional development, and it was no fault of his. The scars that lined his back were just on the surface, who knew what he was harboring underneath his overly masculine demeanor.

I let out a deep breath. "It was just a quarrel with Shane," I said finally.

He looked at me, studying my face in the dim lighting. "Lover's quarrel?" He asked, his accent heavier than usual.

I laughed lightly, but when I saw he was being serious, I shook my head. "No, not in the least," I paused. "Ew," I said out loud, thinking about finding Shane being a suitable partner, which I did not.

Daryl suddenly seemed amused by my response. "Ain't yur type?"

"Don't know I've ever had a type, but no... cops were never my cup of tea."

Daryl's amusement turned into pure intrigement as he put his plate down. "A girl like you? C'mon."

"A girl like me?" I repeated. I couldn't help but to be more than slightly curious as to what kind of person I was, according to Daryl Dixon. "Care to elaborate?"

Daryl wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before speaking. "Yur educated."

I smirked. "What gave that away?"

He rubbed his hands together. "Gimme a minute. I'm just gettin' started." He paused, looking me over as if that was the key to my personality. My heart began to beat faster, the longer his gaze lingered on me. I bit my lower lip and shifted my weight from one leg to the other. "Ya ain't shy 'bout speakin' yur mind."

"Hi, I'm Charlie. Have you met me?" I asked, partially joking. I had refused to keep silent since I escaped my own abuser when I was thirteen. There was something so debilitating by having to keep quiet while I suffered those four years of abuse; having your voice taken away from you was almost as bad as the physical abuse. Almost. A new person only needed to spend a day with me to know that if something is on my mind, he'll hear about it.

He shrugged, the corners of his mouth pulled into a sly grin. "Ya grew up faster than ya should've."

That one hit hard. I nodded once, biting my inner cheek. He would have grown up too fast too, most victims of abuse did. My eyes left his as I took in a deep breath. I felt the air in the room change as we both sat there, thinking about being forced into maturity. A moment went by and I looked back at him. I didn't want this game to end on such a sober note. "That's all you got?"

"Ya got a long line of broken hearts behind ya," he said without missing a beat.

"Finally got one wrong, tiger." I hopped off Hershel's desk. "Haven't been in any serious relationships."

"Don't mean ya haven't broken a heart along the way."

Leaning against the desk, I thought about what he had said. While I haven't "dated" a guy for more than a few months, I do remember at least a couple getting a little heated when things ended. Maybe he had a point.

"I ain't never wrong about that," he said.

I pursed my lips together and crossed my arms. "I'll have to get back to you on that one." I gathered my rather full plate and Dary's empty one and

stood in the doorway. "I'll be back to check on you after Carl and Sophia." I paused. "She's doing really well," I added.

He nodded, biting his thumb nail.

"Something tells me you did more for her that day than her own father did her entire life."

His eyes darted to mine. "How ya know 'bout that?"

"Carol told me about Ed," I said softly.

Daryl nodded slowly. "It ain't nothin' Rick wouldn't have done for Sophia."

I bit my lower lip, and even though I agreed with Daryl, I also knew that Rick's search for Sophia was based on guilt for having left her. Daryl, on the other hand, did it out of the goodness of his heart and because it was simply the right thing to do. "You're just as good as him, you know? You're a good man, Daryl." I didn't wait for him to respond before I made my way back to the kitchen to wash our dishes. He would try to either shrug off the statement or verbally degrade himself. He was stuck in a pattern that is nearly impossible to leave on your own. It had taken an amazing support group and years of therapy for me to finally realize I was worth more than I had been forced to think of myself by my abuser.

As the water ran over my hands and the plates, I finally realized why I was so drawn to Daryl. He was a victim of abuse, yes, but he was also making himself better because of it, even if he couldn't yet see how far he had come. He could have refused to do anything but to only survive for himself, but he didn't. He put himself in the middle of the group as the hunter and protector.

I dried off the plates and turned to see Willa walking into the kitchen. "How was the rest of dinner?"

She shrugged, finding a seat at the round kitchen table. "Very extended family Christmas like dinner."

I chuckled softly. "Yeah, I got that vibe too."

"So what's with you and the redneck?" She asked, abruptly. Willa had never been one to sugar coat things, she preferred to be direct and to the point. Usually I admired that about her, that was until I was on the opposite end of her less than sugary accusations.

"I don't know what you mean," I said, leaning against the sink.

She sighed, her shoulders rising and falling for dramatic effect. "I don't think it's healthy to get involved with anyone."

I couldn't help but to roll my eyes. "I get why you're saying this, I do, but you're way off base here." My secret feelings for Daryl were still being developed. I hadn't decided if I was going to act on them, and who's to say that Daryl felt the same? It was too early to tell and much too early to discuss even the possibility with anyone, Willa especially.

Her eyes studied my face, looking for my tell-tell signs of lying- scratching behind my right ear, picking at my left pinky tail, and if it's a really big lie, my nose twitches ever so slightly. Of course, I made sure not to do any of those things, but honestly, I didn't know what there was to Daryl and I. So far, it was nothing, so technically I wasn't lying.

"I don't think I am," she finally said.

"He was shot and he became my patient, so now I'm making sure he doesn't get an infection and that he heals properly. That's it." I paused. "Why? Do you not like him?"

Willa threw her head back and let out a sigh. "I knew it," she said looking back at me. "I can't tell you what to do."

"Really? Because you've been doing it for years."

"Okay," she said. "I can't make you do what I tell you to do," she corrected. "But, I think you should distance yourself. It has nothing to do with him, it's just this situation. It's already tense, and I'm pretty sure Maggie is banging that guy with the baseball cap."

"Hm, I haven't noticed." I tried to keep my face neutral, but my involuntary ear scratch gave me away.

"I knew it. She really isn't discrete, is she?"

"I don't really see the problem with it," I paused. "With Maggie and Glenn," I added quickly.

Willa shook her head. "Just be careful, okay?" She stood up and squeezed my hand. "And there's nothing wrong with the redneck, he does seem a

little moody though."

"His name is Daryl, not the redneck."

"Oh," she smiled. "I was confused, I thought his name was tiger."

I mirrored her smile, despite myself. "Go take your pregnant ass to bed. Your cankles are getting a little out of control."

"I'm only going because I'm exhausted, not because you said something very hurtful about my barely there cankles."

I shook my head at her comment and made a mental note to talk to Addy about gossiping, telling Willa my nickname for Daryl. She knew better, at least she knew to come to me, not her mother.

Carl and Sophia were easy to do check ups, considering they were both sharing a room since Daryl was staying in Hershel's office for the night.

Sophia would be ready to move into the RV in the morning, while I still wanted Carl to stay another couple of nights.

With my attention focused on Carl, I sat on the edge of the bed. "Okay, my favorite question to ask my patients: how is your number two in the bathroom going?"

He grinned and looked at Lori and then back at me. "All good." He paused. "Do you ask all your patients that?"

"All my surgical patients."

"Did you ask Daryl about his number twos?"

The room was engulfed with small laughs and when my laugh subsided, I shook my head. "Your injury was way worse than his," I said. "He shot himself with his bolt, but you didn't hear it from me."

Carl's eyes widened, his smile growing broader. "For real?"

I shrugged, but then winked at him. "Okay," I said to Lori and Rick, all joking aside. "I'm really happy with his progress. His recovery will still be around three weeks or so, and I'd like to see him every other day." I turned to Carl. "Take it easy, light chores and lots of school work. I don't want to see you running for at least another week."

"Yes ma'am," he said. "About the school work, though…"

I ruffled his hair gently. "You got to use your brain, kiddo." I gave my attention to Carol, Lori, and Rick. "I'll be just down the hall if you need anything. Goodnight."

"Good night."

"Thank you."

"See you in the morning."

I stopped in the kitchen to pour myself a cup of coffee before returning to Hershel's office. My head was already a little foggy from my lack of sleep and the amount of stress that I had endured from the day. So when I stepped into the office, I was just as concerned when I saw that Daryl was out of the cot and walking around the room, this time wearing a shirt.

"Hey," I said softly to him. "What are you doing up?"

He pointed at my medical degree from Tulane that Hershel has hung in a frame on the wall next to his veterinarian degree and Willa's BSN. "This you?"

I took a sip of my coffee and as I looked over the rim, I nodded. "Earlier, when you said my name was Cherry, you realize that's not my birth name,

right?" I asked with a smile.

"Yur a doctor?"

"Yes…" I said as my voice trailed off. For someone that was such a good hunter and tracker, he didn't notice context clues.

He looked generally bewildered. "Ya ain't a nurse?"

I blew the steam off the top of the mug in an attempt to cool down the coffee. I didn't see where he was getting at though. "No, I'm a surgeon."

He shook his head. "Ya don't seem like any doctor I've ever met."

Okay, so I wonder how many doctors Daryl had actually met. In my experience, rednecks generally stayed away from hospitals and doctors offices, opting for the more at home DIY bits. I should know, I've had to fix one too many "duck tape will fix everything" injuries. Grinning, I asked, "And why's that?"

He chuckled-grunted at me. "Ya know why, Cherry," he said as he gave me a look over.

I narrowed my eyes at him slightly. Maybe he was as misogynistic as I thought. "Because I'm a woman?"

"Nah, that ain't it." He paused. "How old are ya?"

"Twenty-six," I said. "So because I'm too young?"

He was now thoroughly amused as he stood there with his arms crossed in a broad stance. "That ain't it, either."

"Oh," I said, surprised that Daryl would even hint at something like that. "You think I'm pretty."

"Objectively speakin'."

I nodded with a smug smile. "Right, objectively speaking."

"But ya knew that already. Girls like you always know shit like that."

I rolled my eyes and gestured for him to get off his feet as I pointed to the cot. "I don't know about that, but what I do know is that you need to get some rest." He did as I asked, which partially surprised me. "So you find out I'm a doctor and you actually do what I say?"

He grunted as he leaned back, getting comfortable. And we were back to the grunting. I guess I should have just been thankful for the conversation we did have.

I found my way to the huge chair that was in the corner of the room and settled into it. I spent many nights right here studying and reading while Hershel worked on his projects at his desk. It was really the only time we spent alone together. With three other girls in the house, getting Hershel to yourself wasn't an easy task.

"Ya sleepin' there?"

"Why? You don't snore do you?" I teased.

"Don't look comfortable."

I leaned into the cushion, already feeling cozy. "It's actually the best seat in the house," I said. "Besides, Willa and Addy are already asleep; I don't want to wake them." I paused. "But if it makes you uncomfortable-,"

"Ain't nothin' like that," he said. "I'll take the chair. Ya can sleep here."

I smiled, butterflies forming in my stomach, realizing how thoughtful he was. "You've been shot, remember?" I leaned back, finding the perfect spot in the chair. "Goodnight, tiger."

"Goodnight, Cherry."

It felt comfortable falling asleep with Daryl five feet away from me. I could hear the change in his breath and he drifted off. He must have been exhausted; I supposed getting shot, even if it was just a graze, would do that to a person. He looked peaceful for once, his forehead wasn't scrunched together in annoyance, he wasn't biting his thumb nail due to anxiety, and he wasn't scowling at someone in anger. It was a good look at him, but with him all cleaned up, everything was a good look on him. I felt his calmness, and in a matter of minutes, I too was asleep.

I just wished my subconscious had taken a cue from Daryl and tucked itself away. It was always embarrassing trying to explain yourself after a night terror. I never felt more vulnerable than I did whilst experiencing terrors. It was something that truly shook me to my core every time I had one. While I hadn't been able to keep the nightmares away, I had been fortunate enough to dodge whatever it was that made me succumb to a night terror since the world had gone to shit.

"Hey," Daryl's voice echoed through my head as I felt a pair of hands on my shoulders.

While I couldn't make anything out in the room, I knew I had heard Daryl, but he sounded impossibly far away from me. There was no way he was the one grabbing onto me, so in pure panic, I whipped my hand around and stopped once I felt my knuckles collide against flesh.

"Fuck," I heard Daryl say and suddenly the hands were no longer on me.

I shook my head, taking in a deep breath as my vision became accustomed to the darkness. I realized that I was no longer in the chair that I had fallen asleep in, but rather next to the mantle. I fumbled my way across the room to switch on the lantern. "Daryl?"

"Shit, Cherry, didn't think them little arms of yours could pack a punch."

I turned to my left to see Daryl wiping a slither of blood from his nose. "Daryl," I gasped as I rushed to him. I moved his hands out of the way and took a look at his face. The only thing bleeding was his nose, and while it was light blood, his nose was inflamed and tender to the touch. "I did

this?"

"It ain't nothin'," he said, but continued to allow me to further inspect the injury.

My mind began to rush and I dropped my hands to my sides, trying to pull myself together and remember where I had put the gauze. I looked down to my trembling hands before looking back up at Daryl, he was now completely composed, recovering quickly from the hit to the face. "I am so sorry."

He shrugged. "Don't hurt."

I nodded. "Let me clean you up," I said as I put my thumb and index finger on the bridge of my nose, pinching the delicate skin. Sometimes the pressure helped elevate the headaches that always ensued after I suffered from a night terror. I closed my eyes, grimacing at the sharp pain that was building above my right eye.

"Hey," he said, his voice calm and soothing. He put his hands gently on my shoulders and led me to the chair. "Take a load off," he suggested helping me lower myself into the cushion. I instinctively pulled my knees to my chest and watched as he knelt down in front of me, his eyes hovering over my face and then down to my arms. "Yur bleedin'," he said.

I looked at my forearms and saw that I had scratched myself in my sleep. The cuts were superficial at best and the blood nearly dry, but still noticeable. "It's okay," I said, my eyes traveling from my arms to Daryl's face. I much rather look at him than focus on what I had done to myself. I could tell that the fear and anxiety from the attack was subsiding because in their place, I felt shame and dread. I wanted to jump to my feet and sprint out the door, down the porch, and put as many miles as my legs could carry me between this house and me.

Daryl leaned to his right and retrieved a small towel and a bottle of water off the end table. With one hand holding the water and towel, he took his other hand to gently pull my right arm off of my knees. He wet the towel before gingerly dabbing the fabric along the minor cuts. I watched him intently as he continued the process to my left arm, feeling his calloused hands under my wrist, dwarfing my own. I couldn't move, couldn't speak, but I could let him do this.

"My ma used to sleepwalk," he said as he looked over his handy work. "She couldn't never remember the dreams that made her do it." He paused as his gaze met mine. "Do ya?"

I shrugged, swallowing hard. "Sometimes."

"This one?"

I shook my head.

He grunted as he stood up straight, but kept his gaze on me. "Yur safe," he said softly. "Ain't gonna' let nothin' happen." To you, my mind added, and I felt that he implied it, but somehow saying it would have been too intimate.

I smiled weakly at him, biting my lower lip. "Sorry to have woken you and for…" I said, my voice trailing off as I gestured to his nose.

He shrugged. "Ain't a pussy. If I couldn't take a hit to the face by a lady doctor-,"

I laughed, despite myself. "I get it," I said. "You're," I paused and added the last bit in my best southern drawl that I had spent years to get rid of, "a

big, strong man."

He chuckled. "Somethin' like that." He found himself on the cot and as he stretched his arms over his head. "Ya ain't settlin' back in?"

I turned to look out the window behind me. It wasn't quite dawn yet, maybe another hour before anyone, even Hershel would be awake. I shook my

head as I planted my feet firmly on the wood floor. "You hungry?

Daryl's face lit up in a small half grin, answering my question.

I titled my head towards the kitchen. "Me too."

The kitchen was empty, just as I expected. Being in the space with Daryl felt relaxing, and my fear of being judged or shamed about my night

terror no longer concerned me. He stood awkwardly in the doorway at first, but quickly found his way to the round kitchen table while I began cooking. I handed him a towel for his nose, even though there was barely any blood left.

I put on a pot of coffee and with the smell of the wonderfully bitter beverage brewing, I started scrambling the eggs. Daryl remained quiet at the table, but scanned the kitchen and when I noticed him eyeing the pictures in the refrigerator, I explained who everyone was.

"That one you?" He asked as he pointed to a photo of me and Willa. I was wearing a pair of jean short, a white t-shirt, and a pair of red high top

Converse while Willa was beautifully dressed in a blush pink satin dress that she wore to her senior prom. I hummed in response. "Ya ain't got a prom photo?"

I sat a plate of scrambled eggs and half a sliced tomato in front of Daryl. "Wouldn't make sense to have a photo of prom if you didn't go," I said.

"How do you like your coffee?"

"Black," he answered.

I poured two cups of coffee, both black, and began quietly rummaging through the bottom cabinet on the right. It was a long shot, but the bottle could still be in here. A smile spread across my face as I found the bottle of Jameson hidden behind a loose board. "With a splash?" I asked as I pushed myself off the floor.

He cocked his eyebrow at me, but didn't dissuade me from adding the alcohol to our mugs. "This yours?"

"No," I replied. "I didn't start drinking until college, but Willa was a wild one," I smiled. "She had bottles hidden all over the house at one point."

I clicked my mug against his, but before he could take a sip, I stopped him. "Wait, have you had any painkillers?" He chuckled and shook his head.

"What? Just making sure," I said with a grin before taking a sip. Daryl followed suit and sat down at the table in front of a plate of eggs.

"How was your prom?" I asked, teasing. I couldn't see Daryl Dixon at a high school formal, but I could definitely appreciate him in a suit, one with

the sleeves had been removed, of course.

"Prom king," he said in between bites.

I laughed.

"What?" He asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He looked at me with a serious faec that made me feel like a total ass. My cheeks

started to turn red and I scrambled for words to say. "I'm screwin' with ya," he smiled.

I returned his smile and rolled my eyes. Before I could comment my head turned to the sound of feet coming down the stairs. I nearly choked on my strong cup of coffee as I saw Glenn's hand reach for the knob of the front door. I covered my mouth with my free hand, trying to contain my cough.

He turned quickly, his face as red as I'm sure mine was just seconds ago. "Oh, hey," he said, casually.

I didn't miss the amused look on Daryl's face as I cleared my throat. "Hey." Glenn stood in front of the door awkwardly with his hands in his front pockets. "Want some eggs?"

He shrugged. "Sure."

I gestured for Glenn to take my spot while I cracked two more eggs on the cast iron skillet. I turned over my shoulder to look at Daryl, but he was busy finishing his breakfast. Adding two more eggs to the skillet, I had to stop myself from laughing. I knew Maggie's "one time thing" wasn't true, but to have Glenn in her home was pretty ballsy, to put it eloquently.

"There's some coffee too," I offered Glenn.

"Eggs are good, thanks though," he said.

Daryl and Glenn sat in silence until I put another portion on Daryl's plate, who tried to protest, but I insisted. "Protein will help you heal."

Glenn took his plate thankfully when I offered it to him. Instead of joining them at the table, I leaned against the sink with my cup of coffee. "What are you guys doing awake so early?" Glenn finally asked to break the silence.

"I'm going to go out on a limb and say not the same as you," I said with a grin as I looked over my mug.

Daryl cleared his throat, nearly choking on his too big of a bite of food.

"I, uh…" Glenn stammered.

Seeing the kid so embarrassed was painful, so I quickly insisted that his secret was safe with us.

"With Daryl, I know. He doesn't talk to anyone," Glenn said and then looked at Daryl. "No offense."

Daryl grunted, unbothered by Glenn's statement.

Glenn turned to me, his eyes pleading. "You talk to everyone."

I shrugged. "Only when they shoot themselves with their own bolts."

Daryl snapped his head in my direction, but his face softened when he saw my smile.

"What's going on in here?" Hershel asked from the doorway.

I stepped in front of the bottle of Jameson and as discreetly as I could, tucked it behind my back. "Uncle Hershel," I said. "Good morning."

He looked at our faces. "Morning," he replied. "Now why is my kitchen full at four thirty in the morning?"

I stepped forward, clearing my throat. "I, um," I stammered, trying to think of an excuse. I could cover Daryl easily, but we all knew Hershel was really asking why Glenn was here so early. "I asked them to come over for breakfast." I paused. "To make sure they had something on their stomachs when I asked them to go look for Nelly."

Hershel studied my face and then looked behind me to see Glenn and Daryl still sitting at the table. "Well no need. Nelly came back yesterday. I thought you knew that."

"Must have slipped my mind. It was a busy day, yesterday."

Hershel nodded, agreeing. "Can I talk to you, Charlotte? In private."

I nodded too enthusiastically. "Sure." I waited for Hershel to step out of the kitchen before waking past Glenn and dropping the bottle of whiskey in his lap.

"Daryl's side is worse than he'd like you to think," Hershel said the moment I was in the living room. "If you have any tasks that need done, don't go to him. He needs time to heal."

I crossed my arms and nodded. Daryl made it seem like his side was barely an issue, but obviously I should have spoken to Hershel about it. "Yeah,

of course."

"Oh, and, Charlotte?"

"Hm?"

"Let's not make this a regular occurrence," he said gesturing to Daryl and Glenn in the kitchen. "We don't want them to get too comfortable."

Right, send them on their way, but let the walkers in the barn eat the chickens and chill. Hershel was a good man, there was no questioning it, but he just didn't have a grasp on the way the world was anymore.

"Sure," I said, finally. Getting into an argument about their group in front of them didn't sit right with me. I stood and watched Hershel walk out the door and as if Maggie was waiting for that exact moment, she walked down the stairs.

We joined the boys in the kitchen before Maggie could bring herself to speak. "Oh my god," she whispered.

Glenn stood up and shook his head. "I tried to sneak out." He looked at me. "But I think Charlie covered for us."

Oh I did, there was no thinking about it. "That reminds me," I said to Maggie. "Pay up." We had been doing this since I moved in at thirteen. Every time one of us covered for the other, a debt was owed. Usually we paid the debt in candy bars, chores, or the rare item of clothing.

She threw her head back and groaned. "Lottie," she whined.

"Don't Lottie me. I covered for you, big time."

She huffed, but turned to go up to the stairs, I'm assuming to her room to get what she owed me. Within seconds, she returned with a Kit Kat candy

bar in her hand. "It's my last one," she pouted.

"Fine, keep it," I said.

She smiled and shoved the chocolatey goodness in her back pocket. "I owe you," she said.

Rolling my eyes, I cleared the kitchen table.

"I got it," she insisted.

I wasn't going to argue, plus Daryl needed to be off his feet. I couldn't help but to feel guilty as I thought of Hershel's words. I knew better before than to take a patient's word for anything other than face value. Luckily Daryl followed me into the office where I all but fluffed his pillow. He watched me carefully as I danced around the room, avoiding eye contact with him.

"Hershel told ya?" He finally asked as he sat on the cot.

"Why didn't you?"

He shrugged. "I'm fine."

"But you're not," I countered letting out a sigh. "I don't tell you how to hunt or to track, so you shouldn't tell me how to do what I do."

Daryl settled into the cot while grunting in response. He looked annoyed, but something about his demeanor had changed. He didn't just let what I said go in one ear and out the other; he seemed to actually hear me. I felt a sense of pride because for men like Daryl to do that, they have to trust you, or in the very least begin to trust you.

I lingered in the doorway momentarily while I stole another glance at the hunter. "See you later, tiger."

"See ya, Cherry."

...

I hope this chapter didn't come across as too much of a filler chapter. I wanted to focus on Daryl and Charlie's relationship as it blossomed into a friendship. I feel to be true to Daryl's character, this is the best way to go about it. There will be a little bit more action in the next one. :)