"Ya sure ya ain't cold?"

Kit shook her head with a smile. "If it makes you feel any better, I can break out a jacket when we're back with the group." At the mention of the group, she began laughing.

"What's so damn funny?"

"I was just thinking about them trying to start a fire tonight," she explained, gesturing to the pouring rain outside the window of the barn she and Daryl were holed up inside.

"Yeah," he agreed. "Ain't no one there very good at startin' fires."

They, personally, had opted out of a fire because they didn't want to draw any walkers towards the barn if they couldn't help it, especially without a large group. Daryl couldn't perceive a difference, though, since he and Kit were sharing a sleeping bag.

The next morning they came upon a somewhat small town, well off any main roads or highways which gave the two hope for a raid. After looking through the small pharmacy and other obvious places, Kit turned her attention to a reasonably large camping store.

"I don't think there will be too much left there, Dex. I know that it ain't likely many groups have come through here, but the folks in this town probably wiped it clean."

"Maybe, but I'm willing to bet they didn't take everything. They would have been in a hurry – only looking for the obvious things like tents and sleeping bags and not all of them would have been really experienced with camping. We might find something. Besides, I doubt anyone would have taken arrows, if there were any in there," she added with a smirk.

They hadn't been in there too long before Kit found what she was looking for. "Hey, Griz, I think we hit the jackpot." Sure enough, she had come across a hoard of arrows that could bring someone like Daryl to tears of joy.

While he began packing them away and digging through the rest of the hunting section, Kit found something else useful left on the shelf by most other people: water purifiers. She grabbed a handful of them and put them in her pack, thinking about the joys of not having to boil water anymore and the time it could save. Apart from that, she found a few other small-ticket items that were useful nonetheless such as some wool socks and a flashlight.

Daryl, for his part, found some bandanas and buffs the group would undoubtedly appreciate. "I think the bandana look suits you," she told him as she playfully wrapped one around his neck like a scarf.

"Well, I think this suits you," he retorted, putting a hat on her head – a beanie.

"I guess we are just two damn fine looking people," she sighed. "Whatever shall everyone else do about it? They can neither have us nor be us," she added dramatically.

They still hadn't encountered any stray walkers, thankfully, while they were leaving the store, when Kit noticed something interesting. All other non-perishable food items had been taken but for some reason or another, the store's 'Hammer' products had been left untouched. All the gels, all the powders, just waiting to be taken. "We really did hit the jackpot, Griz," she mused.

He looked it over, trying to figure out what it was, but it seemed like the kind of shit that wouldn't expire very quickly. "So this is athletic shit?"

She nodded. "The gels don't taste very good but I never tried the powders. It certainly isn't perfect but if I'm hungry I'll eat this shit. It has a lot of carbs, too, which is good because you look like you've dropped about ten pounds since the quarry."

"You callin' me scrawny?" he asked, as they both loaded up on the 'Hammer'.

"No, but we all need to keep an eye on our weights – the men, Lori and Carl especially. Men lose weight a lot faster than women not to mention we're much better at storing and keeping fat paired with the fact that we need less food. Plus, Lori was too thin even before this whole mess started so she needs to put on weight and do it fast."

"Nice ta know yer thinkin' 'bout this shit. I do know one thang, though: we gotta make sure we've got vitamins and shit like that. Not just fer her but 'cause I don't plan on getting' scurvy anytime soon. It don't sound too pleasant."

"And they say you aren't an educated man, Mr. Dixon," she said, putting on a mock southern accent.

He rolled his eyes before playfully shoving her towards the door, wanting to get away from the town as soon as possible and get off the road. But, his eyes wandered to a pawn shop across the street, beginning to go in that direction. Kit was about to ask him what the hell they could find in a pawn shop when she figured it out herself. They had no clue what they could possibly find in there, which was why they needed to check it out.

"I'm hoping they have some sort of badass sword," he explained when they entered.

However, their plans were delayed when they encountered a handful of walkers in the store. Neither Kit nor Daryl too were concerned, though, easily taking care of them before returning their attention to the pawn shop, finding very little that was useful.

There were a handful of antique guns, though there was no ammo to go with them so they opted not to take them. He and Kit were about to leave when he noticed something that caused the sides of his mouth to come up a little. "Kit, I think Christmas came early fer ya." She raised her eyebrows curiously at him before he showed her the knives he had found that were perfect for throwing. "Tell ya what, if we find a safe place ta practice, I'll teach ya the basics."

She kissed him as a thank you for spotting the knives and as a down payment for them, planning on paying those off in full if they had some time on the trip. Privacy was now a luxury that they could afford and she was going to take advantage of it if she could.

They were about halfway to meeting Rick and the others when Daryl and Kit encountered their fourth herd since the apocalypse.

Making their way through the Georgian woods, carrying Daryl's catch of the day, they hadn't been expecting anything out of the ordinary. Then, they both heard a branch snap and their heads whipped back, seeing only the bare beginnings of what they knew would be hundreds of walkers coming down on them. Abandoning the dead animals as a distraction for the dead, they sprinted through the woods because Daryl had spotted something not far ahead: a small cabin.

When they wrenched the door open, they had not expected to see someone else inside but with little choice but to stay, Kit slammed the door behind them, hoping that it wouldn't turn into a shooting match.

"Who the hell are you people?" the older man cried.

"We don't want no trouble, Old Man," Daryl said.

"You leeches are here for my supplies?"

"No," Kit assured him, easing down Daryl's crossbow so he would know they weren't threatening him. "There's a herd of walkers outside and we just need a place to stay until they're gone. We have our own supplies and we can share some in exchange for staying the night."

"Walkers…the dead people?" When Kit nodded, the man took a peek through his curtains, still not trusting the pair, though she certainly couldn't blame him. "That's a lot of them," he said numbly.

"Yeah, and we don't wanna get caught up in the middle of that. This'll be the fourth time, now," Daryl informed him. "Like I said, we don't want no trouble."

"Well," the older man sighed "I don't think I'm too eager to open the door right now. I guess if I'm going to be killed, I would rather it be by human beings."

"We ain't gonna pull nothin'," Daryl insisted.

"My name is Kit Eldridge," Kit introduced herself, holding out her hand.

"Zach Coleman," he replied, nervously taking her hand. "And you?" he asked Daryl.

"Daryl Dixon." He shook the man's hand, as well, placing his crossbow on the floor as a show of his intent. "This yer place, or are ya jus' holed up here?"

"I've owned this cabin for fifty years now," Coleman said proudly, almost haughtily.

"Want some food?" Kit asked. "It's not exactly fine cuisine, but we can share." Coleman nodded, seeing it as a fair trade. She pulled some jerky that Daryl had made out of her pack, along with their last few power bars.

"Well, you two certainly aren't living in the lap of luxury," he surmised.

"Our group ain't gonna have an easy winter," Daryl informed him.

"Group?" Coleman replied frantically.

"Relax," Daryl groaned. "We ain't exactly the Roman army. There're only eleven of us an' most of 'em can't fight worth shit."

"That's still ten more than me."

"You're alone?" Kit asked, having difficulty believing that anyone could make it this far without others to support you and keep you sane.

"In case you hadn't noticed, this cabin is pretty isolated. There haven't been too many dead people walking by until now that the 'herd' as you call it is passing through. I'm alone, though I'm a little uneasy telling you two that."

"If we wanted ya dead, ya'd be dead by now," Daryl informed him, which didn't help to ease the tension in the room, or make Coleman less jumpy.

"He and his brother said the same thing to me at the beginning of the outbreak and he's kept his word so far. Don't worry, we're not going to hurt you." Kit was trying her best to calm the panicky man. "And you aren't helping," she scolded Daryl gently.

"So you've known each other since the outbreak?" Coleman asked.

Kit nodded. "For about four months, now. And as far as our group is concerned, Daryl's right that we aren't much of a threat: women – one of whom is pregnant – children, elderly." She didn't like calling Herschel elderly, but if it made Coleman feel better, then she could overcome those qualms.

"I was a sociologist before the outbreak so I guess I'm a little curious," he admitted. "How does your group work? How is it set up?"

Kit and Daryl glanced at each other, each drawing a blank as far as how to explain their group's situation. "We're in the process of a transition," Kit replied vaguely. "To be quite honest, we're still trying to figure those questions out for ourselves."

"What about leadership?"

"Well, Rick says he's the leader an' that it ain't a democracy, but he's been consultin' me, Kit, an' Herschel lately an' he's listenin'. Thas abou' all we know."

"So you two are part of the leadership, in some way or another?"

"Or another," Kit replied. "Like I said, we're in transition. We were living on a farm together until about a month ago and there were sixteen of us, then. Leadership and group roles have been shuffling since."

"Care to explain the shuffling?" Coleman asked.

The pair weren't exactly eager to be discussing their group's situation, but Coleman was allowing them to spend the night so they decided to play ball. "Well, from the quarry up 'til last month Kit an' I wadn't exactly the people Rick was lookin' to fer advice."

"Back then, Shane, Dale and Lori had the better part of his ear," she continued cautiously. "Only one of them was someone Rick should have listened to.

"And?" Coleman asked, wanting more information.

Maybe he was bored, Kit pondered. Group drama would have been pretty exciting to someone living alone, especially a sociologist. "Well," she said quietly. "Dale died the night before we left the farm, killed by a walker. Shane wasn't really much of an option anymore and as far as I can tell, Rick and Lori have had some sort of falling out. Herschel replaced Dale, Daryl replaced Shane and I guess I replaced Lori, though only in some respects thankfully."

"So five died in the twenty-four hours before you left the farm?"

Daryl nodded. "More or less. Dale first – killed by the one walker. Then the herd came through and they killed Jimmy and Patricia for sure. We lost Andrea at some point in the mess an' we don't know if she's alive. Shane died, too," he added, linking his hand in Kit's, trying to ease the mention of him for her. (His death still weighed on her, even if it had been necessary.)

"I guess everyone has lost someone," Coleman sighed, but not before noticing the contact between Kit and Daryl.

"Most everyone in the group has. Andrea lost her sister, 'fore she went missin' – Amy was all she had, far as family goes. The Greene's lost their mother, their stepbrother, Jimmy, Otis and Patricia, so they was hit hard. Carol, T-Dog, Glenn, an' Kit lost their whole families. Ma brother's missin'. The only ones who ain't lost their family is Rick's family, 'less ya count Shane, which I don't. Rick's got his wife an' son."

"So your group has had entire families in it."

Kit leaned up against Daryl, trying to forget the losses they had all sustained. "The group has been shuffling almost constantly since we left our first campsite," Kit explained. "People dying, leaving, and joining us."

"I'm assuming you two have paired up," Coleman said, a little bit severe.

"Yes," Kit said firmly. "We aren't the only ones, either. Glenn and Maggie paired up, too." That was only counting the more permanent pairs – not the flings Shane had had with Lori and Andrea.

"Is there a twenty year difference between Glenn and Maggie?" Coleman asked harshly.

"No, but Daryl and I are fourteen years apart, if you're asking." A dark look began to pass over Daryl's face and Kit squeezed his hand. The age difference was a sore spot for both of them but Daryl was particularly sensitive about it so most people in the group, especially Kit, tried not to bring the subject up. She glared at the older man, wishing the night would be over as soon as possible so she and Daryl could leave.

Coleman saw that he had crossed a line so he ended his questioning for the night.

"I'll take watch for a while," Kit told Daryl before whispering "Get some sleep" and kissing him on the cheek. He looked like he was about to protest when Kit threw a blanket at him, making her point clear. He took watch too often anyway and was out like a light.

She peeked out the curtain for a second, seeing that there were still quite a few walkers milling around outside, but figured they'd be gone or mostly gone by morning. She sat down on the floor, beginning to relax a little. "I still think he's too old for you." Coleman had apparently not gone to sleep.

"I'm an adult – that's my decision to make."

"I wouldn't have wanted me daughter to be involved with a man who was fifteen years older than her." Kit looked at him in shock and began to realize why the old man was alone. "The people in your group are not the only ones who have lost their families."

She understood what it meant to lose your family but she couldn't tolerate the judgment he exerted on her and Daryl. "Daryl is my family now," she said resolutely.

"In what ways?" Coleman scoffed. "Because you sleep together?"

The old man had absolutely no sense of boundaries. "No. We're family because we protect, look out for, care for and understand each other. And it's been that way since almost day one. I'm his first priority and he is mine." Coleman seemed surprised that it didn't appear to be just about the sex. "I've seen some people pair up for the sex, but it isn't that way with us. It's not like we get a great deal of privacy, anyway, staying close to the group."

"So you're trying to meet up with them again?"

"As difficult as it is to hear myself saying this: yes. Right before the disaster on the farm, he and I were going to leave the group."

Now Coleman looked truly surprised. "You really hated them that much?"

Kit shook her head sadly. "Daryl and I liked most of them, still like most of them, but there were leadership issues and other personal issues that weren't going away. We still have some of those problems, but they're beginning to fix themselves. In fact, I think that in a matter of weeks, the whole group might start acting like a family."

Coleman stared at his feet uncomfortably. "I realize I haven't given you much reason to like me, but I have been thinking that I would like to be a part of a group again. It seems like you're decent enough people, even if you all have your issues. I don't want to be alone anymore."

Kit had to admit that Coleman was right in that she wasn't especially eager to bring him back with her and Daryl, but she also remembered how she had felt before she had met the Dixon brothers. Being completely alone in the world, no matter how short the time period, was the most forlorn experience a person could ever have. "I suppose you could walk with us tomorrow and we'll see where it goes from there," she allowed. "No one can make it alone anymore."

"Thank you," he told her with complete sincerity. "You two can both sleep. I'll be up tonight making preparations, anyway."

Daryl didn't appear happy about the arrangements that had been made when he woke up the following morning, but his objections fell when Kit gave him a pleading look. The old man didn't say another word about him being too old for Kit again, though, so if that pattern continued then Daryl would tolerate him.

Unfortunately, Coleman didn't have the stamina that Kit or Daryl had, especially in the cold weather with the wet leaves dripping onto him. "We ain't gotta problem stoppin'," Daryl told him. "We got somethin' ta take care of, anyway."

He pulled out the throwing knives, bringing a warm smile to Kit's face while they wandered a ways away from Coleman and Daryl began to teach her the basics.

"Yer not exactly a deadeye with those things," Daryl observed.

She huffed with frustration. "Well, I guess I'm going to have to make myself a marksman with them. All I need is some practice."

After about ten more minutes of pure vexation, she finally managed to hit the tree she had been aiming for, giving a triumphant smirk as she did so. "God, yer beautiful." And she was in his opinion. Not just because she was beginning to catch on to the knives, but all the time.

"You only like me for my shooting skills," she playfully accused him before kissing him. "And by the way, you're pretty easy on the eyes yourself. I'm really lucky, you know. I could never do any better than you." She meant that more than she could possibly say.

She saw as a dazed expression crossed his face – he hadn't been expecting her to say that. Even if he would never tell her, he had really needed what she had said. There were often days when he believed that she would have been better off with someone like Glenn, not that she had ever implied it in any way. (What Coleman had said the previous night had done nothing to alleviate Daryl's insecurities, either.) Maybe they were both still a little stunned that they of all people had been so compatible. All he could do in response was kiss the top of her head before allowing her to continue practicing.

Still, that response felt inadequate to him. "I love ya," he told her self-consciously. "I don't care what any geezer or anyone else has ta say 'bout it."

Now it was her turn to have been rendered speechless while he waited tensely for some kind of response. He had hoped she knew he loved her already; though he had never outright said it, he always made his best attempts to show it.

She dropped the knives and threw her arms around him before giving him a real kiss. "I love you, too. So much."

They soaked in the moment as best they could, as others like it were so few and far between – especially since they would be meeting up with the group in less than a week.

They were no more than a couple miles away from where Kit and Daryl hoped the group was still waiting for them. Although the trip had been physically taxing for Coleman, he had done his damnedest to keep up with the other two. Now, he was beginning to trail just a little bit behind them which proved to be deadly.

Daryl heard the screams before he had heard the walker approaching them from behind so when he turned around, it was already ripping into the older man. Kit threw a knife and actually managed to take down the walker – which was more of a freak accident than a testament to her skill with the new weapons – but by that time it was too late. Coleman was bleeding out on the ground.

The pair rushed to him, realizing before they even got there that he couldn't be helped or saved. Daryl put an arrow through the poor bastard's head, doing the deed that would prevent Coleman from becoming a walker.

There was no time to think long on his death. His pack was collected – no reason to just leave it there – and they made their way quickly to the town Rick had talked with them about. When they arrived, they saw that arrows had been spray painted throughout the town, alerting Kit and Daryl which directions the group had gone in. Eventually, all the arrows pointed to one house, where T-Dog was standing guard.

"You guys get stranded and you still save our asses by collecting all this shit!" Glenn cried, relieved to see them. "I can't believe you found water purifiers." Rick shook hands with them, acknowledging his happiness that they were back in his own way.

As the others all expressed their happiness that the two once-outsiders had returned Kit and Daryl didn't mention where the supplies in one of the packs had come from. It was strange, though, how much easier it was to face the death of someone who was little more than a stranger to them.

"We've been tryin' ta map out the paths of the different herds and I was hopin' you two could help me out," Rick said. "That way, we can figure out where we head next."

That night, Daryl was leaned up against a wall, Kit sleeping against him, when Rick sat to have a quiet conversation. "So you two are stayin'? I didn't know whether or not we should wait for you."

Daryl regarded him carefully, wondering where Rick was going with this. "Yeah, we're stayin'."

"Good, cause we had some…difficulties while you were gone."

This caused Daryl to give out a quiet snort, trying not to wake the sleeping woman leaned against him. "We laughed our asses off a few times, thinkin' 'bout ya'll tryin' ta make fires an' shit like tha'."

"Glad to know we gave you some humor," Rick replied sardonically. "But it's good you're stayin'. And just so you know, you two do belong here, just as much as anyone."

A/N: So a lot of the chapters between the second and third season are going to be of a fluffier nature, sort of the way this one was. That said, please let me know if it becomes too fluffy for your tastes and let me know if you notice that I am writing anyone OOC. Also, please keep in mind that the next few chapters are going to happen over the span of a number of months so if it feels like things are leaping forward pretty quickly, it's because I may have skipped over a few months.