A/N: 11/17/2014 I'm back! Just like I said I would be! :) And sorry! I didn't think I'd be killing anyone with suspense, but I suppose I was wrong, haha ^^;

wildcow258: Is THIS chapter fast enough for you?! :D And thanks, I'm glad you liked it! Yep, Merle is trying to help, but he's more of an 'action' guy than 'talk' guy, meaning he doesn't really think about the consequences until it's too late, lol.

annibelle: Woah! Talk about a passionate review! Thanks, lol! X's and O's to you too! :D

Tinkerbell99: Thank you! I'm glad it surprised you! And it's okay, I don't mind hearing the same thing twice. Or four or five times for that matter XD

Prettyprincess45: Ah! I'm sorry! D: Hopefully this update will help, as there is NO cliffhanger! :)

Reading time: 10-15 mins.

Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead.

Chapter four: Decisions and Bathroom Breaks~

"What in the hell were you thinkin'?!" Daryl hissed, trying to keep his voice down.

After discovering their 'guest' in the living room closet, he had taken his brother and dragged him into the bedroom and away from prying ears. To say he was angry was an understatement. He was pissed. He was beyond pissed. He was furious. Livid. In a rage. There were few words that could accurately describe what he was feeling.

Merle only laughed, having no intention of keeping his voice down, and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Hey, no reason to get your feathers all in a ruffle! After our little spat last night, I decided to go out for a while - you know, roam the town. And then I came across that little gas station we hit and I saw that lil' Mama Doe walkin' home from 'er shift. And I thought, 'hey. Daryl ain't never gonna have the balls to talk to this woman face to face.' And so I nabbed her. Figured it was easier than all that 'talking' bullshit."

Daryl barely resisted the urge to start beating the shit out of him.

"Man, what the hell is yer problem?! They're gonna come lookin' for 'er! What if she's married? What if she's got family?"

"Married women wear rings, and married women with families don't go prouncin' around town without a car. Trust me, I know."

He wasn't quite sure why he was so relieved by that.

"...Well, what're we gon' do with 'er now? She can't see our faces! She can't even be let outta that damn closet without seein' where she's at and tattlin' on us!"

"Hey, you know me. I don't think ahead that far. We needed to get that gun back, you needed to finally get laid. Way I see it, I solved two problems at once."

Merle grinned, and Daryl roughly shoved him back, turning and walking towards the door.

"Shut up, Merle..."

Daryl silently sighed, resting his head on his hands, thumb jutting into the underside of his chin, as he sat in the recliner - their only recliner - across from the closet.

After debating about it for over an hour, Merle had announced he was leaving to run an 'errand' and that he'd be back 'soon'. Whenever that would be. And so, that left Daryl alone with himself, his thoughts, and the scared woman gagged in his closet.

He reached into his pocket and dug out the key - the key to the break room, the safe. Andrea's key - and turned it over in his hands, staring at it.

He'd spent the better part of an hour staring at that stupid thing and trying to decide what to do with her. Should he let her go and hope she wouldn't call the cops? Keep her there until they got busted for kidnapping? Try and talk to her? Calm her down? It really shouldn't have been so complicated, except that it was.

After all, his brother was right.

He'd never be able to work up the nerve to talk to a woman like that. Under normal circumstances, anyway. If he let her go now, he would probably never see her again. But if he didn't, if he tried to be nice and get to know her, that would backfire, too.

Because things in his life always did.

They never worked out the way they were supposed to, the way they would have were it some other person's life, someone else's shoes. Guys like him just weren't important. They didn't do good, they didn't ride off into sunsets or get applauded for their courage and bravery, and they most certainly didn't get the pretty female lead.

And he himself was by no means in a leading role. Or even supporting role, for that matter. No, he was the redneck vigilante with nothing going for him, who got no mention in the credits and got shot and killed or taken to jail by the hero five minutes into the film. Whoever he was, the hero was more deserving of the woman sitting not fifteen feet from him now than he would ever be.

Daryl sighed again, having made up his mind, and put the gas station key back in his pocket.

Grabbing the spare bandana sitting on the small table beside him (which happened to be Merle's) he stood up from the beat up recliner his brother favored so well and started to make his way over to Carol.

He walked, trying to keep his footsteps light as he approached the closed closet door. He couldn't hear her breathing, but he knew it was on purpose; she was trying to hear what was going on around her, trying to get her bearings. He couldn't blame her. He just hoped she wouldn't freak out on him once he opened the door.

Daryl wrapped a hand around the doorknob, slowly turning it and opening the closet.

Carol sat there, much the same as before, but the duct tape around her hands was stretched, almost to the point where she could wriggle free if she really tried. He glanced at her feet, seeing the tape was stretched there as well, and the corners of the piece of tape over her mouth were peeling away from the sweat that ran down her face.

Ignoring the pang of guilt that washed over him, he knelt down to her level and put his brother's black bandana over his nose to hide his face, swallowing nervously.

He reached over and gently put a hand on her shoulder, nudging her, and she stiffened immediately at the contact. He ripped the tape over her mouth off, and her lips pursed at the sting.

"Hey..." He tried to keep his voice hushed and gentle, but it came out sounding more like a hobo with a throat problem.

Clearing his throat, he tried again. "You, uh...you gotta use the bathroom?"

It was a stupid thing to say to someone you were trying to land a good first impression with, and he mentally scolded himself for it, but given the circumstances, he knew she probably had to go. He sat, squatted beside her, and waited for her answer.

It never came.

He waited, seconds turning into ages, and after a few moments, he thought she wasn't going to answer at all (why would she waste her time on a piece of redneck trash like him?) but then-

"...Yes."

Daryl's head shot up, surprised she was bothering to talk to him. It wasn't like she had to, but he supposed that (given the subject) it was kind of necessary.

"...Alright," he said, nodding even though she couldn't see him. "Here."

Without explaining any further, he leaned forward and scooped her up into his arms, bracing himself against the door frame as he stood up.

Woman was heavier than she looked.

Carol froze, quiet as a mouse as he carried her over to the bathroom, and as he maneuvered around empty beer bottles and soda cans and fast food bags, he was thankful that she couldn't see the dilapidated state of their apartment - not that the bathroom was any better.

Daryl pushed the door open with his foot, walking inside and setting her down as gently as his spazzing muscles would allow.

He pulled out his switch blade from his pocket, and the sound of sharp metal made Carol panic and almost fall over were it not for him being there to catch her.

He pulled her back to a standing position, smoothing down the wrinkles in the sleeves of her dusty brown jacket as he tried to think of something comforting to say.

Unfortunately, nothing came to him.

Silently, he bent down and wrapped a hand around her ankle, keeping her steady, as he took the knife and cut at the tape around her legs.

Happy that she hadn't tried to kick his teeth in yet, he stood up and moved on to her hands, cutting through the tape with steady movements.

As soon as she was free, Carol bounced away from him, hands flying up to her face as she ripped the blindfold off to stare at him with wide eyes.

Daryl froze, eyes just as wide as hers, hands raised in case she tried to attack him.

Carol tore her gaze away from him, head darting this way and that as she looked around her - at the floor, the cabinet, the toilet, ceiling, sink - and then past him, to the room beyond.

Daryl grabbed hold of the door and slammed it shut, moving in front of it to block her view.

He hoped she hadn't seen anything; the last thing they needed was for her to escape and go tell the cops. They continued to stare at each other, gauging what the other was doing, and Daryl shifted as Carol slowly moved to her left, afraid she was going to try something stupid.

She didn't.

"...I know who you are," she said, and from the look in her eyes, Daryl knew that (to some extent) it was true. "You were at the gas station last night...and the week before that."

Daryl nodded, sweat collecting beneath the bandana covering his face. "Yeah."

"What do you want with me?" she asked, brows knitted as she warily looked him over.

That was a good question. What did he want with her?

It wasn't like he would have ever dreamed of kidnapping some random girl and keeping her locked away in a closet for weeks, months, or even just a few hours. It was all his stupid brother Merle's fault, really, but he couldn't tell her that. She would only use it against him. Of course, he realized that even letting her use their bathroom would probably bring about unwanted knowledge about him and Merle that could easily be used to her advantage, but he hadn't thought to check it and clear it out before bringing her there.

Shaking his head, Daryl finally answered. "...Nothin'."

This only caused her brows to knit even further, seeming confused as she stared into his eyes, probably trying to tell if he was lying or not. She must have been satisfied, because she said nothing in rebuttal.

With slow movements, Daryl backed away and grabbed the doorknob, gripping his knife in the other hand tightly.

It wasn't as though he intended to use it - he was no murderer, and he'd be damned if he was going to be stab a woman, least of all a pretty one - but he figured it was better to have the hint of a threat present to keep her from doing something they'd both regret rather than to take no precaution at all.

Opening the door, he backed out into the living room. "...Toilet works, but go easy on the flusher. It gets broke from time to time. Jus' gimme a holler when you're done."

And with that, he closed the door.

A/N: I honestly can't say when the next update will be because I haven't written it yet, but hopefully soon.

Anyway, I hope this chapter was to everyone's liking! I'd love to see what you think in a review! :)

'Til next time!