Hey everyone who is reading this! It's been quite awhile. Here is a new installment to my story...it is quite long and I have added Daryl's P.O.V. now (the part in italics) to give an insight on what he is thinking about certain things, etc. It will appear in future chapters as well, so look out hahaha. There is quite a bit going on in this chapter, I hope it isn't too much of a mess. But I like it a lot and I hope you do too! A special thanks to my new readers too, I love you a lot. ENJOY!

P.S. I keep trying to tab the paragraphs but it isn't working GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

Shit. My head hurts like crazy. I almost jumped when I saw Lauren lying next to me. A recollection of memories of last night came flooding back to my mind in a rush as I gazed at her small, resting body. I rubbed my forehead and looked down at her. She was still heavily fast asleep, her features appearing quite soft and gentle. Her face looked something of a peaceful manner, something I was happy to see instead of that scowl she always has. Her body felt warm against me, which was odd because last night I remember she was so cold. I was instantly comforted by her just being there, though. I don't really recall passing out last night, but I remember the events leading up to it. She looked so…goddamn hot…she was just…so sexy. Like, I don't even understand what came over me just hours ago. Maybe it was the alcohol. But I remember how I felt and it was a craving, a desire to kiss her, every inch. Right now I could feel that she was shirtless, her bare back was facing me. I got nervous for a second, and I hoped that she would remember her allowance of me taking her top off last night. Goddamn, thinking about her like this made me feel so fucking girly, but she was so much more different than any other girl I've met. The day I met her, it was like something in me had clicked. Fuck. I don't even know what I feel for this girl, why am I being so goddamn soft? That thought provoked others, once that triggered an emotion I haven't felt in years. I guess it was the fact that she was so strong and independent. She was also beautiful, everything about her was. I had a hard time relaying this all to her. But maybe that's because I didn't really think about it until now. I don't want her to think I'm mad at her, but it's just so hard. I was scared that her bringing the whiskey over was just an escape from her problems and the entire thing meant nothing to her. It's all bullshit, really. It's impossible for a girl like her to possibly like a man like me. No one favors a busted down redneck over the others. Whatever, I can't handle this pussy-ass shit anymore. I hate myself for thinking like this. I'm not about to start an attachment to her. I was just about to get up and actually shifted my entire body until she happened to move and my actions came to a sudden halt. She groaned as she outstretched her tiny arms, accidentally bumping into me. I pretended like I was still fast asleep, so it wouldn't seem creepy that I was just lying there. Her little body almost jerked back in shock and I heard her soft voice whisper the words, "oh my fucking God." There it was. Every syllable felt like a punch to the gut. I was literally two seconds away from shrugging away from her and getting up and leaving. But I, myself, almost flinched when she did what she did next. She didn't get up, however, it was a second of hesitation before she leaned down and cuddled in closer to me. She pressed her soft lips to mine and kissed me for several moments before kissing my cheek lazily. This girl just doesn't realize what she is doing to me. In the midst of my rest, I instinctively wrapped my arms around her body, embracing her little frame. The hangover from last night heavily weighed on my body. I felt myself drift off into a series of dreams again, back to a light sleep.

I would hug him forever, I would. I could hear his soft snores and I felt comfortable just being there. I almost forgot we were in an apocalypse. Last night, from the things that I could recall, was interesting to say the least. I remember Daryl acting so weird and I remember the Jack Daniel's and the intoxicated kisses. I remember him pulling off my shirt and the way he looked at me when I did. He was the source of the butterflies in my gut and I knew it. He was the only good in a world so bad. It felt so good to be in his arms right now, like I was in a universe so outside of the one I dread to be in. But it didn't feel like Daryl. It felt like I was imagining this entire thing and that he'll go back to being an insane dick to me in a couple hours and then we'll hate each other. I don't want that to happen, but it's my biggest fear right now. I mean, I remember the feeling of emptiness last night. I remember the words at the tip of my tongue, the ones I truly should've said but changed my mind at the last eager second. I can't tell if I regret it now. His strong, muscular arms wrapped around me and I instantly felt protected. I decided to wait it out until he woke up again, cherishing the time that I was able to have so close with him. An hour or two later, his arms loosened around me and he retracted them and stretched his sore, tight muscles. I tried to play it off that I woke up moments later by shifting away from him and yawning.

"Hope I didn't wake ya up," his groggy, sleepy voice greeted. God, he was sexy. I looked over at him and he was watching me with a small smirk on his tan face. I shook my head and reached my hand up, brushing the messy hair off of his forehead with my fingertips. His cheeks flushed a shade of crimson and I could only laugh. I let my portion of the blanket fall off my shoulders as I sat up. The air was very cool on my bare skin and Daryl must've noticed this. "There's a shirt you can borrow…over…over there, on my bag," he said tiredly, pointing his finger at it. I saw the flannel and tiredly made my way over to it. I pulled my arms into the sleeves and began buttoning it up. It was quite big on me, but Daryl was obviously much bigger in size compared to me so it made sense. "It looks like a dress," he chuckled and I saw his eyes widen a little bit as he raised his eyebrows at me. It did though, it covered my shorts and fell about mid-thigh on me. I shrugged and giggled, walking back over to him. He sat up and kicked his legs off the side of the cot. "Looks better on you than it does me," he joked as he pulled my hair tie off of his wrist and handed it over to me. I took it with a chuckle and pulled my hair up into a ponytail. I bent down and placed a kiss on his lips gently before standing again.

"I'm off to find breakfast, feel free to join," was all I said before leaving quickly. I stepped out into the early afternoon sun and all of it felt really weird. I saw Maggie by Glenn's tent and she noticed me and shot an obviously weird look in my direction. I smiled at her sheepishly and she just shook her head. I walked to the old white farmhouse and passed many group members on the way there. They only gave me sad smiles and a few odd glances, carrying on with their usual daily business. I saw Dale and Andrea arguing, and I heard Shane's name get thrown around a couple times. Not this again. I ignored it and my burning migraine and went up to the house. I saw Lori in the kitchen and I noticed that she looked particularly off, but she passed me a bowl of fruit with a forced smile anyway. I took the bowl awkwardly, shooting her a questioning look and she shrugged.

"Beth isn't doing well. Poor thing is still shocked out of her wits," she explained carefully, her voice sounding distressed and tired. I nodded and sighed spinning my spoon within the bowl in my hands. I scooped up a piece and ate it slowly, still watching Lori who had returned back to cleaning the kitchen counters. She had grown thin, pale, and sad-looking. I felt pity, I just hoped she was taking this whole pregnancy thing well. If it was me, I would be out of my mind by now. My thoughts were cut short when I peered out the window behind her and saw the truck that Rick and Glenn had driven off in earlier to find Hershel. The roar of the old engine was entirely relieving. I smiled, setting my bowl down. I sprinted out the door, excited to see them all back. When I came into the vicinity of seeing their faces, and they all looked extremely pissed off and exhausted. I felt my smile fade slowly and I felt worried in regards to what might've happened. Doors were slammed and Rick stepped out first, heading off to the back of the old car. Maggie ran past me to greet them all, meeting her father first to see if he was okay and then to Glenn. The three looked in stable enough condition, and that's all that mattered. Rick threw the trunk door open and Glenn hurried to him. From what I could see, they removed a body from the back, and it was struggling and writhing. Whomever it was, they were blindfolded and heavily restricted. I saw them carry the prisoner to the old barn that had been rid of the walkers previously. I looked at Maggie and Hershel and they were discussing this quietly. I saw Shane almost show up out of nowhere and follow Glenn and Rick to the old barn. Great. This can only get better. After they placed the body inside, they came out minutes later. Rick was in an obvious tousle with Shane at this point and they were bringing it back up to the house. Hershel made his way over and began intervening. Glenn returned also, parting ways with the three and walked back to Maggie. She embraced him lovingly once more, asking if he was alright. He said a few words to her and then looked over at me and smiled sadly, and I returned it.

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It was plain and easy to notice the growing tension within the entire group these past few days. Shane is consistently growing more reckless and dangerous, it became obvious. Rick and his relationship has especially grown strained and torn, the temper and decisions of them both constantly having a wear on it. Beth had a suicide scare this morning, from what I heard, and Lori, Andrea, and Maggie were struggling to console her. I figured out more information on the prisoner being held in the barn. His name is Randall and apparently he has a group some miles off. Daryl literally went in and beat the shit out of him earlier to get answers, and from what he told me, he didn't get much. Yesterday Rick and Shane took him away. I heard they were took him about twenty miles out, so chances of him finding the farm were fairly little. When they returned, however, nothing seemed to have changed…they still had the boy. Although, I have noticed that Shane seems to be much more mellow, kind of keeping his distance from the others. I've been trying so hard to do so too and avoid every other mess going on, but it was difficult not being able to put my senses in. I wish everyone wasn't possessing such clashing personalities.

"Hey," I greeted Daryl at his camp, whom was rubbing the blood of the boy off his hand on a handkerchief. He looked up at me with an angry scowl but gave me an acknowledging nod before gazing at his red knuckles again.

"Stay away from that bastard," he warned, without me saying anything about it, "he ain't got a good head on his shoulders." His words almost made me feel weak. It felt like he was underestimating my power to protect my own self.

"I think I'm okay," I scoffed at him. He shook his head and let out a sarcastic, airy chuckle.

"You don' get it," he grumbled and rubbed his temple, "the boy's group rapes an' kills women. The last thing I want is for you to be a victim." I refused to be changed by his words. I was capable of making decisions by myself and I knew I could handle defense on my own part. He noticed me refraining to give in and stood up in front of me. The gaze within his light emerald eyes was intimidating. He held an angry, frustrated watch over my features. "Stay away from him," he repeated, his words much more emphasized and dark, intending on creating an impact on me. I knew his intentions were good, I did, I knew that this was him caring about me. He knew he had to protect me as much as his life depended on it and I was grateful. But I was a grown-ass woman. A grown-ass woman whose middle name could easily have been 'independent.' His hot breath grazed my lower lip and he kept his stare intense on me. I didn't even care anymore. I would listen to him, but right now due to how hostile he was acting, all I thought about was kissing him. I mean, it was hot. "Understan'?" he growled.

I bit my lower lip and nodded, "Yeah but…"

"But what?" He lowered his voice and grasped my wrist.

I hesitated, knowing that this could throw him off guard a little bit, but I couldn't help myself. "You…you talking all low like that…it is really sexy and distracting me from whatever point you're trying to get across…so I'm gonna have to ask you to stop or kiss me. I mean either one, but I choose the latter." After the words spilled out of my mouth so smoothly, I couldn't help but feel a little pinch of a nervous feeling in my gut. I hoped he wouldn't get fired up and mad, I mean, it wasn't my intention to make him that. I just couldn't, not say it, you know? I let out a sigh of relief as he rolled his eyes and I witnessed the corner of his lips turn up ever-so-slightly. He looked around him for watchers, to his sides and behind.

"Really?" he snarled before his arm snaked around my lower back carefully, pulling me into his hard body. I could have giggled at the speed of which he gave in. I mean, it was pretty unexpected. He then kissed me. Hard. It was just as lustful as he intended, sweeping me off my feet. His hand instinctively moved to the side of my neck, his fingers cradling my head. It was like, he was so, so gentle and careful and his movements were so intricate, but at the same time he got me so entirely heated with his passionate eagerness. His lips continued to move skillfully with mine, almost like it was meant to be that way. Him and I. He pushed my back up against the tree behind me, his only intentions were to intensify the kiss and only making my desire, to be as close to him as possible, much more riveting. His unoccupied hand slid downwards further and further, slipping under the waistband of my shorts, and I instinctively let out a low growl and he only smirked into the kiss tauntingly. This man had a way of captivating me. He had a way of making me forget the world around me and collapse right into his arms. He doesn't realize it though, he doesn't realize the true effect he was capable of. It was so confusing all at the same time, however, because we hadn't talked at all about us. We've only been initiating the physicality of this so-called relationship, if you could even label it that. I hope I'm not just an outlet for a distraction, because I can feel myself developing something big for him. It feels like my heart has something to depend on again. I don't want to be used, and I only hoped it didn't feel like I was using him either. His other hand stopped caressing the nape of my neck and trailed slowly down my back too and following the line of the other, but pausing right on my lower back. He pulled his head away, only to draw it immediately to my collarbone. Fuck. He kissed the skin all over, grazing his lips over the areas that received the most outward reaction from me.

"Shit," I moaned aloud, and I could feel him smile against my skin. I gasped as he continued and found a weak area. He knew instantly. Right below my ear. With lips, tongue, and teeth, he seemed fully intent on making a lasting impression. I was aware of his objective quite well, but I wasn't sure if I wanted to protest. He was on a roll and god damn was he playing it well. I passed in and out of bliss; words couldn't even begin to describe the feeling. It was a sweet gesture, the way his mouth played at my earlobe and underneath it. The way I could feel him smiling, happy in the moment we were both so lost in. His lips worked skillfully on the skin of my neck until he was finally satisfied with his craft. He tilted his head to the side and smirked at me, the look on his face condescending. I reached up and grazed my fingers on the spot and it was fairly tender to the touch. I could only shake my head at the sheepish grin plastered on his cheeks.

"Come on…it's pretty," his dark voice grumbled in a teasing way. He removed a hand from my back and brought it up to touch my neck. I almost flinched at how gentle his fingers felt on the freshly bruising skin.

"Oh ooookay," I taunted in return, grabbing his hand from my neck. I squeezed it in both of my own and leaned forward and pecked his lips once more, "you're good, Dixon." I smiled at him before turning on my foot and walking away.

"Hey, I wasn't done yet," he complained sarcastically after me.

"That's okay," I called back and I could hear his low laughter bellowing out of his throat in reply. It made me happy that he was happy. This was an entire new side of Daryl being revealed, and let me tell you that I could easily get used to it. It just felt weird that he was so focused on hiding this all. I guess I understand, I know he isn't the PDA type, and I wasn't either. I could tell he wasn't too keen on sharing the details about his life to others. But I mean, I just feel if I try and talk to someone about us, he'll figure out and won't want anything to do with me anymore. I just feel like I need someone else's standpoint on it. No one seems to be trustworthy around here, however, but I can't keep bottling up things like this. It hurts. I hate this. I hate the not knowing. I crave his kisses. I crave the rugged exterior and warm eyes. I crave the feeling that he gives me. The butterflies, the light-headed kind of happy. I crave his protection, the way he would save my life in an instant without even batting an eyelash. It's dumb, really. Maybe I'm out of my mind, maybe I'm just trying to believe that this is all good because possibly, just possibly for a second I thought it was. It's all bound to blow up in my face anyway, right? That's what always happens. I am never allowed to get anything good without a bad conclusion. Who am I kidding? I barely know this man. I barely know any of these people. I think I'm just jumping too fast into something that, in reality, is too good to be true.

I attended a group meeting later, and everyone discussed what they were going to do with Randall. The group was divided. I watched Daryl from across the room, and I noticed his eyes barely ever leave me. Maybe that was because mine never drifted from him either. I couldn't decide what he was feeling entirely, though, but I knew he was angry about this boy and I couldn't help but realize the pure bitterness wash over his face when Dale, whom demanded that killing Randall was inhumane, spoke his mind. Rick was on the fence about Dale's points, and decided to give him the rest of the day to find another way of going about this. I just felt uneasy. The rest of the day drug on, with a lot of me sitting around, waiting for someone to come my way. Eventually, I was greeted by Glenn, my savior from boredom.

"Holy shit, Lauren!" he yelped as he drew closer to me, "did you get bit? Are you okay?" he asked frantically, before covering his mouth in shock and stepping back. Astonishment and confusion flew through my own body as well as I registered his question.

"What?"

"On your neck! What the hell is that?!" He exclaimed, peering closer, his eyes squinting to try and understand what it was. Oh my God. Daryl.

"It's nothing," I played it off, tucking my loose hairs over the spot. It must have been worse than I thought. Holy shit, revenge was going to taste sweet. But right now, how was I going to get out of this? Glenn couldn't keep a secret for shit, and the whole camp would be gossiping about it forever if I told him.

"Should I get Hershel-"

"Glenn, it's nothing. Don't worry." His face took the opposite of my advice, still bearing a nervous look.

"There is a big old mark on your skin! It could be anything! You could be next to go, oh my God!" he practically shrieked, "did somebody hit you!? Let me know who it is and I…I swear!" He rolled up his sleeves, eager to get at the "offender". I saw odd looks coming from a couple of the others who were around camp. He would not stop blabbering. And dear Lord, was it loud too. I stood up immediately and slammed a hand over his mouth and his eyes widened, frightened.

"Glenn, don't. Are you fucking crazy?" I warned him through my teeth, before removing my hand and stepped back. I was going to regret this. "Look," I said and pulled my loose braid away from the bruise. He gazed at it, his eyes scanning my neck for a couple of moments.

"A hickey?" he practically mouthed.

I nodded sheepishly, feeling my cheeks become hot. "Don't say a motherfucking word," I threatened him. I had to. As much as I liked Glenn, Daryl was sensitive, and so was I. I saw him look over at the man in question, whom was talking with Dale by the RV, and then he looked back at me, shooting an interrogative glance. I gave him a half smile in reply and he almost gasped.

"Really? Wow," was all he could say. I wish it wasn't that obvious. I nodded and tried to keep my giddiness from showing too much.

"But Glenn, you motherfucker, if I hear that you said anything to anyone, I will make sure you never say anything. Ever again." I harshened my words. They sounded pretty sharp as they escaped my lips, and I only hoped he took me seriously. By the way his eyebrows shot up to his forehead when I spoke, I think he might have. He only shook his head and raised his hands in defense, clamming his mouth shut. "Good," I said and straightened my braid over my neck before getting up and walking away.

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This evening is getting worse. Everyone is so tense, I feel like hiding in my tent would be much better and safer than being out with the others. I have been in here for a while actually. I constantly am hearing arguing outside, from different people at different times about different things. It worries me how much these issues are driving everyone apart. I laid in my cot for a couple hours, thoughts never escaping my mind, and only multiplying constantly. I watched darkness consume my tent letting me know it was getting quite late. My mind stopped and my breath hitched in my throat when I heard a crack of a bullet leaving a gun. My eyes widened and I jumped to my feet instantly, flying out of my tent. I looked around frantically, and peered into the distance to see others of the group running into the field. I sprinted into that direction, the other confused stragglers around me followed in my steps. I saw enough to see the shocked faces of the witnesses. I saw a dark mound on the ground. Two or three. The campers were gathered around them. Bodies. There were bodies on the ground. I slowed my pace as I saw the familiar hat crumpled on the ground next to one of them. Dale. His torso and head were displayed and covered in blood and a walker was lain nearby him. My heart shattered. I saw the gun in Daryl's hand. I realized he made the shot. I looked at his face, his emotions lie unreadable. I noted the slight scowl, however, and it was almost easy to know that he was affected in some way. I refrained from stepping towards him. Everyone else was speechless and only looked on in distress. I couldn't bring myself to look at their faces, I just couldn't. I felt my own self begin to lose it again. God damn I am so weak-hearted. I never used to be this way. I turned away from the scene, unable to do much more for anyone and sulked off to my tent, my tears not failing to fall.

The walk away from the field seemed so much longer than usual and I felt my knees almost buckle out from under me, my feelings taking over my own body. When I finally reached my abode, I attempted to shut myself off from everything as I kicked off my shoes and climbed under my covers. It was hard. I couldn't just find the will in me to sleep. I only cried and cried, my sobs making me feel much more lonely and scared. Nothing is safe anymore. Sooner or later, the zombies will take over everything good that's been here. One just made its way onto the farm for God sakes. I questioned my own self being here, I questioned the decision I made of coming here with Rick and Daryl in the first place. I couldn't stop bawling. My cries and thoughts distracted me so much I didn't even realize that someone had made their way into my tent and was picking me up. Two gentle arms were holding me, and I couldn't seem to find it in me to fight whatever it was. The carrier took my former place on my cot and sat down, keeping me cradled in their lap. I felt the touch of a familiar hand that had fallen under my shirt onto the skin of lower back. The familiar scent of cigarette and dirty man swarmed my nose as I buried my face into their shirt. Daryl. I knew it was him instantly. His hand let my legs down gingerly on the bed and he brought it to my face. He wiped the astray tears on my cheek with his thumb and then trailed his hand to my hair. He untied the hair binder and stroked out the messy lengths comfortingly, his fingers tangling in the loose blonde waves. He didn't speak. He didn't have to. His actions spoke loud enough.

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