It had started back on the farm, right after they'd been sure Carl would survive. Or maybe even before, Daryl wasn't sure. At first all it had been was glances that lingered a little too long, hands that touched by accident a little too often. Daryl had thought he was imagining it for the longest time.

But it had kept happening. Rick would seek him out to discuss strategies about this and that, and he'd listen to what Daryl had to say, taking him seriously and making him feel part of the group, part of Rick's plans.

Sometimes, Daryl suspected, Rick didn't actually need his input but he came to Daryl anyway. Sat down next to him, talked, listened. And looked at Daryl, with those quizzical, beautiful blue eyes. Daryl started looking forward to these moments more than anything, but for a long time had never sought out Rick in the same way.

He couldn't have explained why, other than the gut feeling that whatever Rick was up to, he, Daryl, must be misinterpreting his intentions. Why would Rick, their leader, husband to Lori and father to Carl, the man who had it all, be interested in him? A redneck who'd been nothing before this, and who was still at best peripherally part of their group?

And then they had discovered Sophia in the barn.

Afterwards, Daryl had been sitting on a log near the RV to have a smoke. He didn't want to leave Carol on her own, but he'd needed a break from the gloom that surrounded her. Knowing all their attempts to find the girl had been meaningless from the start made him feel almost physically sick.

Suddenly Rick had been there. Daryl, who could usually hear walkers or people many yards off, had been so wrapped up in his own misery he hadn't heard Rick approach. It didn't make him startle, not exactly, which Daryl thought odd thinking about later, but it hadn't registered at the time. He must have become really used to Rick for it not to cause his normal skittish reaction.

"Hershel has disappeared."

Rick came and sat next to Daryl. That also didn't ring the usual alarm bells. In fact, through the haze of his pain, Daryl found the closeness of the other man comforting.

"Glenn and I will go looking for him, but I wanted to check how she is first." Rick glanced at the RV.

"Not good. Had t'come out, too depressin'."

At that moment Rick had actually leaned into him. Daryl's body went rigid, he couldn't help it. Instincts honed to avoid contact, whether soothing or cruel, were so ingrained he couldn't suppress them. He wasn't sure Rick noticed. He didn't move away, in fact, he stayed perfectly still. So Daryl stayed still, too.

The next words were very low. "Are you ok?"

The three small words, the real concern in Rick's voice were like gentle fingers stroking Daryl's dark mind. He didn't look up, didn't move even to smoke his cigarette. But he did answer.

"Gotta be."

Daryl tried to put his gratitude, some of what he was feeling, into the words. Rick gave no indication that he'd understood, or that he hadn't. The next moment he was back on his feet, leaving a vacant spot in Daryl's consciousness.

Rick didn't look at Daryl as he walked away. "We'll be back soon."