A/N: Punctuality isn't one of my strong suits when it comes to writing. My bad. Hopefully this chapter and the one hot on its trail will make up for my snails pace writing skills. Thanks to all you lovely readers and please feel free to throw suggestions, ideas and complaints my way. I am always open as long as it's constructive.

Please enjoy and let me know what you think!

((o))

Carol was waiting anxiously at the edge of the woods when Daryl returned. The worry lines creasing her brow smoothed in an instant and a smile touched her lips. Her whole demeanor relaxed as he burst through the trees in a fury. She cried out in relief at the sight of him.

The sound barely registered in Daryl's mind, so focused was he on finding that damn slip of a girl. He walked right past Carol without even a glance.

She blanched, watching dejectedly as he walked away, the hurt evident on her face.

No one noticed.

He knew she was here. Her tracks circled back along with Carl's. At least he assumed they were Carl's; no one else was stupid enough to go wandering after the idiot girl. He'd had plenty of time to stew in his anger, following the messy trail for nearly 2 hours. He couldn't believe she and the boy somehow managed to completely bypass him. The thought made his blood boil.

Upon scanning the now bustling parking lot he found her easily. She was crouched beside an old yellow Volkswagon, trying to pry open the gas chamber. The rest of the group ran back and forth between the building and the cars like chickens with their heads cut off. They stuffed everything they had into the trunks, occasionally stopping to argue about something ridiculous, as they were prone to do.

Daryl paid them no mind.

Fueled by rage he stomped over, unsure of his intent. He walked straight through the disorganized assembly line. No one noticed, continuing with their tasks, completely oblivious.

He stopped just behind Lena and waited to be acknowledged. She froze at the shadow he cast over her.

Daryl watched as she gathered her courage and peaked at him over a slender shoulder. Sheltering dark green eyes with those long tanned fingers she observed him uneasily and shifted slowly to stand.

"We really have to stop meeting like this." She quipped, standing to her full height.

He prepared to say something particularly ugly but the words died on his lips when she faced him.

Her shirt.

His brain short-circuited.

No, he amended in shock, my shirt.

One of the worse-off ones: he'd ripped the sleeves off, too impatient to cut them straight. Loose threads hung from the fraying ends. The oversized armholes exposed the planes of her ribcage on both sides. More tattoos peaked out from underneath the worn fabric. He didn't have time to examine them though; she was speaking again. The words sounded garbled to his ears. He tried hard to make sense of them.

"Look, can we start over? I swear I won't karate chop you again. Truce?" Her voice, while bright and chipper held an edge, a slight strain. She tried hard to look strong but her body revealed exhaustion, betraying her. Shoulders hunched as if she were trying to curl into herself, protecting the injured shoulder. Still she wore the ghastly purple hippo sling. Daryl sneered at the offending print, losing track of her words.

At his lack of response Lena nervously pushed on.

"Here, I'll start." She held out a hand awkwardly for him to shake. "Hi, I'm Lena. What's your name?"

"That's my shirt." He blurt out, ignoring her feeble attempt to appease. More so than before he was painfully aware of the fact that she wore no bra.

She balked at his response; surprised he'd rather argue about a shirt than the fact that she'd taken him for a fool, again. "What a lovely name." She deadpanned. "Pleasure to meet you."

Lena had hoped humor might quell his anger. As far as she could tell it wasn't working. He was still doing the crazy eyes thing.

She was still talking but Daryl hardly listened, completely fixated on the shirt and how it clung to her in all the right places. He felt conflicted: he wanted to stay angry, but it seemed against the laws of nature for a man to stay angry at a woman whilst she wore his shirt. It just looked so good.

The curve of her breast peaked out enticingly from the oversized shirt, taunting him. His fingers tingled with the urge to touch and his face felt hot.

The unfamiliar feelings incensed him.

How dare she act so carefree. How dare she joke, taunt him, and skip around practically nude! He refused to be distracted by this con artist little brat.

No. It didn't matter how right she looked in his shirt. He needed to focus on being angry.

She dropped the proffered hand and stiffly inclined her head at someone behind him. "That woman over there gave it to me. " He glanced distractedly over his shoulder, mildly curious. The conflict raging inside his head skidded to a halt.

Carol. She was still there watching him. Guilt struck finally at the realization that he'd completely ignored her upon returning, consumed by his rampage to find this infuriating girl. Carol's gaze looked far off, sad. She locked eyes with him, unashamed to be caught spying. He gulped, throat suddenly bone dry. Poor Carol. All she did was try to look after him and he constantly brushed her off. He was becoming no better than that bastard husband of hers. The thought repulsed him. He vowed to apologize as soon as he finished with Lena. Giving the older woman a small nod he returned his gaze to the girl in question.

He attempted a glare but felt his anger losing steam. Lena shrugged, apprehensive.

Silently they watched, each sizing up the other.

Daryl tried to keep his gaze strictly clinical. He tried not to appreciate the way the fabric hung low at the front, revealing the elegant line of her collarbone. And he tried not to notice the secret looking tattoo that unfurled under the curve of her left breast, the ink stark against copper skin. How it disappeared beneath the shirt alluringly. How desperately he wished to see where it disappeared to. Most of all he tried not to think about how perfect she looked in his shirt.

He tried and failed.

Lena cleared her throat. "Eyes up cowboy." The tips of his ears flushed bright red. With extreme effort he tore his eyes away, focusing on the skyline behind her as if something important suddenly caught his interest.

"Never mind. Gimme my crossbow." He demanded, refusing to look at her.

"Why?" Lena goaded. She smirked at his obvious discomfort, glad to be back on familiar territory now that his ire subsided. She liked taunting him. In the little time they'd known each other she'd become quite good at it.

"Because it's mine damn it! Why else!" He snapped. She could barely contain a laugh at the look of petulance on his face. He was seconds away from stomping his foot like an errant child.

"Ah, but possession is nine-tenths of the law, redneck. That makes it mine." She replied with a wink.

Her response must have blown a fuse somewhere in his brain because Daryl's mouth dropped open but no sound came out. Seeing an opportunity for escape Lena hobbled away before he could regain his senses, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

((o))

They drove east for hours, headed towards the coast. The sun hung low in the sky when they finally stopped to refuel, pulling off to the side of the 4-lane highway. The road was clear and trees ran on either side for miles. As soon as the caravan haulted everyone scattered to take bathroom breaks and stretch their legs. Lena sat in the passenger seat of the Chevy, too tired to move. She slung the car door open wide and dangled her legs out, stretching languidly.

Intent on being at least minutely useful she scanned their surroundings and tried to keep tabs on everyone's whereabouts in case of an emergency.

Rick pulled a few gas containers from the back of the car and walked over to the green van to help them refuel. Really it was just an excuse to try and talk to his grumpy wife. He wasn't fooling anyone. Lori leaned against the car and glared as he approached her.

Lena rolled her eyes and looked away, uninterested in the soap opera that was sure to take place. Drama wasn't her thing. She preferred comedy but none of these people seemed to share in her interest. However, she did find a certain redneck to be somewhat entertaining, even if she was currently aggravated with him.

She watched closely as said redneck disappeared into the woods behind some bushes and emerged just a few minutes later, zipping his fly. He walked back toward the road, his bike parked just a few feet in front of the Chevy. When he reached it he caught her stare and smirked knowingly. He made a show then of pulling a cigarette from the notch of his ear and lighting it, blue eyes twinkling.

Lena could only cut her eyes at him grumpily.

Daryl chuckled quietly and sipped a long drag from the cigarette as if sampling a fine wine. He locked eyes with her and exhaled slowly, deliberately.

He's mocking me. She thought bitterly, recalling their final conversation before leaving that dreadful doctor's office.

"Those are mine aren't they?" Lena remarked blandly. He fingered a cigarette from the worn pack and touched it to his lips, eyes full of mirth as he regarded her.

"Nine-tenths, kid." He said, mimicking her earlier words. "'Sides, ain't you too young to be smokin'?" He sheltered the cigarette behind a hand, hiding it from the wind and lit it with an old silver zippo.

"Oh I assure you redneck, I am old enough." She purred, insinuating that she was old enough for far more than just smoking. He nearly choked on the first drag and begun laughing uproariously. Her mouth hung open. 'It wasn't that funny.' Lena thought, mortified. She'd expected a much different reaction to her words. Had she misjudged his looks of appreciation? She couldn't tell. But there was no mistaking the giant smirk on his face as he walked away, exhaling a plume of gray smoke in his wake. Lena seethed.

Too exhausted to get up and give him a piece of her mind, she settled for flicking him off. The gesture only made him laugh louder, much to her annoyance. As the rest of the group began to wander back to the cars he dropped the cigarette to the concrete, grinding out the ashes with his boot and mounted the motorcycle.

The metal death trap roared to life beneath him.

She mentally face-palmed as she watched Carol straddle the seat behind him. The older woman wrapped her slender arms around his waist and tucked her chin into the crook of his neck oblivious to Lena's blatant stare.

How had she missed that?

Carol was his missus.

Lena watched him walk away; astounded that things hadn't gone the way she'd planned them. How could he reject her? No one ever rejected her!

Fuming, she prepared to go after him and give him a piece of her mind.

She would have done too if it weren't for the older woman's interception. Lena watched curiously as the woman stood in front of him, touching his upper arms in a soothing gesture. She looked up at Daryl fondly, giving him a smile as he spoke softly to her. Lena couldn't make out their hushed tones but whatever he said made Carol incredibly happy because she hugged him before he could even finish, hiding her face in his shirt. The gesture startled him at first but he quickly hugged her back.

They were a couple. Of course they were.

Jealousy struck her, unbidden. Stubbornly she tried to tamp it down, averting her gaze and walking in the other direction before they caught her gawking on the private moment.

Of course he would be attached to one of the women in the group. Married even. Why hadn't she noticed it before making such an idiotic pass at him? And earlier in the woods. The thought made Lena want to bang her head against a wall.

Maybe he didn't remember.

She hoped he didn't remember.

"Are we almost there?" Carl asked. Lena jolted at the interruption. How did he do that? Pop up out of thin air? Her eyes bulged in alarm and she regarded him as if he were a scary insect, leaning away as he stepped closer.

"Yeah." She replied, tone mechanical.

"How much longer?" He continued. Lena rolled her eyes and fixed him with a glare.

"Couple hours." She replied cryptically. Carl huffed, unimpressed with the vague nature of her answers.

"Can I ride with you?"

"No." She responded, dismissive. Her eyes wandered back to Daryl distractedly.

"But—"

"Kid. I came back with you. You got what you wanted. Don't push your luck." She huffed testily, Daryl and her earlier embarrassing declaration temporarily forgotten.

"It's just a car ride." He whined, leaning against the open door. Lena arched away again, her side pressing into the center console uncomfortably. Why did the child insist on terrorizing her?

"No." She grunted. He frowned at her response.

"But the other car is so boring." He pouted in an attempt to gain sympathy. She glared, hoping to scare him off and end the conversation.

When he didn't leave she changed tactics. "Man you're right. This car too. You know what would make it better? If you joined us! We could play 'I Spy' and listen to the backstreet boys and talk about our feelings—" Lena gushed dramatically.

"Really?" He exclaimed excitedly, not catching the sarcasm in her tone.

"No." She deadpanned. "Now fuck off."

Rick cleared his throat, announcing his presence.

"I'd appreciate it if you would tone down the language." He suggested softly. Lena rolled her eyes but nodded impishly.

Nodding his thanks Rick sat down in the drivers seat next to her and started the car. Much to her displeasure Carl piled into the back after Glenn and T-Dog, ignoring her refusal. He immediately climbed to the far back to cuddle up with the sleeping dogs, no doubt the only reason he'd actually wanted to ride with her. She huffed irritably but said nothing, leaning her head against the window and focusing on the open highway.

Rick pulled out first, taking the lead and following Lena's directions. Daryl peeled out behind them on the motorcycle, and the green van after him. Unable to resist Lena took a peak at him in the side view mirror. The wind blew through his short locks, a riot of blond, whipping in every direction. Carol's arms wrapped tight around his middle.