A/N: Two chapters in one day. I'm on a roll.

Disclaimer: If I owned it, it wouldn't be fanfic.

Dale volunteered to wash up after dinner. He rather enjoyed the simple domestic tasks of scrubbing pots and dishes. Plus, the building still had running water! They boiled any they wanted to drink or cook with first, of course, but still...running water! Toilets that actually flushed! In this new world, normalcy became a luxury.

Dale worked side by side at the kitchen sink, him washing, her drying and stacking. If he looked at the matronly Japanese woman from his peripheral vision, he could almost imagine it was his wife beside him. The harmless fantasy didn't hurt as much as he would have expected.

"Can I ask you something?"

Nana added another clean plate to the stack on the counter. "Certainly."

"That older girl with the blonde hair, I couldn't help but notice the bruises on her face and neck. Some of them look like hand prints."

The old woman sadly shook her head. "I'm afraid you and your group aren't the only survivors we've met. About a week ago a man attacked Jessie, the girl you mentioned. Lia saved her, but she had to kill the man to do it."

"I'm sorry," Dale said quietly, "I shouldn't have pried."

Nana smiled. "No harm. I just wish things could have ended differently. I'm not sure who's suffering more from the incident, Jessie for being attacked, or Lia for killing a human being. Neither one of them have been sleeping well since then."

Dale passed her some flatware to dry off. "I know the feeling. Nobody's gotten through the last few months unscathed. It's a miracle that Rick still has his entire family. No one else we've met so far can say the same."

"Including yourself?"

His smile was tinged with remembered sorrow. "My wife died before all this happened. Cancer. I was devastated at the time, of course, but lately I've been wondering if she was the lucky one. You?"

"My husband died five years ago. Lay down on the couch for his afternoon nap and never woke again." Nana set her dishtowel aside, the washing complete. Her eyes stared thoughtfully back through the years. "I remember the first thing that came to me when I realized he was gone was how...un-dramatic it was. Here one second and gone the next. No fuss, no fanfare. Suited him, really. My Henry always was the modest type. We had one son who died ten years earlier from a heart attack, and I was never that close to my grandchildren, in any sense of the word. They live all the way out in California...if they're still alive, that is."

"Irma and I never had children." Dale helped her pick up the clean dishes and put them away. "Wasn't in the cards for us, I suppose. No regrets, though. What we had was enough."

Nana smiled. "I have a bigger family now than I ever would have expected. Lia's like a daughter to me, and the kids have become my own grandchildren-zoo."

Dale chuckled. "Andrea and her sister, Amy, were like the daughters I never had." Sadness clouded his affable features. "You think you've experienced the worst, and then something comes along to remind you that losing someone never gets any less painful."

Nana laid a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. "What happened to Amy? If it's not too painful to talk about, that is."

Dale cleared his throat. "We were camped out at an old quarry in the mountains. We had to leave because it got overrun by walkers. Lost half our people that night. Amy. Carol's husband. A friend of mine named Jim was bitten, and we lost him to the fever while on the road."

"I'm sorry," Nana said, "We've lost people as well. Enough to start our own little cemetery not too far from here. Not as many as your group has lost, but then again, numbers don't really matter when it comes to people's lives."

"No," Dale said, meeting the old woman's steady gaze, "No they don't."

As the days passed, those who had been sick gradually returned to normal. Rick became more restless as his strength returned, anxious to continue their journey towards Fort Benning. They'd already hit so many setbacks. Not just the illness, but dwindling fuel and highways so jam-packed with abandoned cars they were rendered impassable, requiring one detour after another until they weren't even certain they were headed in the right direction.

He knew most of the others wanted to stay in this place full of children. He was tempted as well, but Rick knew his people were becoming a drain on resources. Larger communities required greater amounts of scavenging and hunting, and also created more tempting targets to both walkers and less desirable bands of survivors. A few days ago Rick would have said they could use all the adults they could get, but after seeing how well Lia and Nana organized their young charges, he knew they could survive and maybe even prosper without any help from his people.

It would take some doing, but Rick knew he could convince the others that moving on was the right decision. He hated the idea of dragging his family back out into the uncertain world, though. He couldn't remember ever seeing Carl so happy and Lori so content since all this chaos started. He wished it didn't have to be this way.

The only other person who seemed more restless than Rick was Daryl. As soon as he was well enough to walk more than twenty paces without collapsing, he grabbed his crossbow and spent hours at a time wandering both halves of the building's location; the city to one side, the wilderness to the other. Once or twice he returned from the latter with a handful of rabbits or a string of squirrels, the fresh meat greatly appreciated by all.

One late afternoon when Daryl returned from one of his expeditions, Lia approached him. The two of them had barely exchanged more than two words over the past few days, maintaining civility through mutual distance, and so Daryl eyed the woman suspiciously as she drew near.

Lia cut to the chase. "I want you to teach me to hunt."

Daryl scoffed. "What, you been bluffin' over knowin' how t' use that bow o' yours?"

"I know how to shoot," she said, "But walkers are big and slow. I don't have much experience hitting small, fast targets. And I don't know how to track. I have to learn from someone, and it might as well be the one with the most experience." She indicated the rabbits dangling from a sack tied to his belt. "Everyone says you're the best hunter in the group."

"What makes you sure I'm inclined t' teach you anything?"

Lia rested her hands on her hips. "What d'you want in exchange?"

"Whadda you got?"

She lowered her eyes and bit her lip, seeming to come to a decision. "Follow me."

Lia headed for the building. Intrigued in spite of himself, Daryl shrugged and tagged along. Inside, he handed the rabbits off to one of the kids and followed the woman up the stairs to the second floor. Lia opened one of the doors that was once a small office and Daryl found himself standing in what could only be her bedroom, though her bed was only a mattress on the floor. The rest of the furnishings consisted of a couple of file cabinets she stored her clothes and possessions in and a bookshelf crammed with books. Daryl squinted at the titles and discovered that none of them was for entertainment. There were do-it-yourself manuals, texts for identifying edible plants, natural medicine, archery, soap making, and gardening.

"You read all those?"

"I'm working through 'em," Lia replied, rummaging through one of the file cabinets. "Can't survive by scavenging forever. I'd rather we figure out how to be self-sufficient before things get desperate. Aha!" she exclaimed triumphantly, turning around with a sealed bottle in her hand: Glenfiddich 30 year old Scotch whiskey.

Daryl's eyes widened. "Where th' hell'd you get that?"

"It's mine," Lia said, cradling the bottle in both hands to stare down at the label. Her smile held a touch of sadness. "My father gave it to me a couple of years ago for my thirtieth birthday."

"And you're givin' it to me so's I'll teach ya t' hunt?" He stared at her, incredulous.

Lia swallowed and held the bottle out towards him. "I was never much of a drinker anyway."

Daryl started to reach for it, then suddenly hesitated. He lowered his hand. "Lessee whether you can learn or not 'fore you pay me."

Surprised, Lia returned the bottle to the cabinet and shut the drawer. "So, when do we start? Right now?"

Daryl shook his head. "Tomorrow mornin'. We'll head out real early, so you better be up before the sun is."

"Okay. Thank-" But he was gone before she finish. Lia ran her fingers through her braids and laughed to herself. "This is gonna be fun," she muttered.

It was one thing to wake at some ungodly hour due to bad dreams or insomnia, and quite another to inflict it on oneself deliberately. Lia groaned at the sound of her wristwatch alarm and fumbled to switch it off. She lay in a tangle of blankets, already drifting off again, when the second alarm she'd set the previous night went off.

"Okay, I'm up!" she grumbled, rolling out of bed. She grabbed the clothes she had set out and dressed herself mechanically. Once she had her hiking shoes on, she left her room, only to return seconds later to grab her bow and arrows. Downstairs, the smell of fresh coffee lured her to the kitchen where she found Daryl emptying a mug down his throat. He seemed totally unfazed by the earliness of the day, a fact for which Lia chose to hate him. But then she saw the steaming percolator on the range and decided all was forgiven. She poured herself a cup and gulped it down, heedless of the way the hot liquid scalded her tongue. Once she was able to talk she asked, "There enough time for breakfast?"

"Eat sumthin' light," Daryl answered, "Don't wanna waste any time."

Lia rummaged through the cupboards until she came up with a couple of granola bars, ate them quickly. Then she and Daryl headed out without another word, he with his crossbow slung over his shoulder, she with her bow in hand and a full quiver of arrows strapped to her back. They left the old industrial park with its empty lots behind them and traversed the overgrown field that preceded the wilderness.

"Why start this early?" Lia asked.

"Lotta animals come out t' feed this time o' day."

"Oh."

Daryl half expected her to pepper him with dumb questions, but she kept silent. As they neared the woods, he paused to unsling his crossbow and load it. Lia took that as a cue to nock an arrow in her bow, but left the string slack.

"So, what do we do first?"

"You tell me."

Lia blinked. "What?"

Daryl indicated the trees in front of them. "This was your idea. You go first. See if you c'n track sumthin' down."

"I told you I don't know anything about hunting," she protested, "That's why I'm out here with you."

"'Fore I can teach ya anything I gotta know what you c'n already do."

His explanation sounded reasonable, but... "I find myself questioning your motives. I mean, how do I know you're not just wanting me to make an ass outta myself?"

Daryl smirked. "You could always call off th' deal."

Lia's eyes narrowed. "Fine." She held her bow at the ready and stepped into the woods.

Daryl kept a few paces distance between them as he watched her progress. Not surprising, she didn't know what the hell she was doing. So intent on being stealthy, she didn't pay attention to her surroundings. She overlooked several clear game trails and at one point walked right by a rabbit hidden in some shrubbery. Daryl kicked the undergrowth and the startled rodent dashed off, making Lia jump at its sudden appearance. She took aim, but the rabbit was already out of sight. She lowered her bow with a sigh of frustration.

"You're right," Daryl remarked, "You don't know anything 'bout huntin'."

Lia glared at him. "Well, since you watched my pathetic attempt, why don't you show me how it's done?"

Daryl hefted his crossbow and stepped past her with a cocky swagger. But once he was in the lead he slowed, his footfalls so quiet Lia could have closed her eyes and not known he was there. He made it look effortless. Lia trailed a few paces behind, trying to imitate his movements, but she knew she wasn't doing it quite right. She watched as Daryl turned and his profile came into view. Instead of the cold intensity she expected, Lia saw that all the tension and anger had melted away, leaving him with a calm expression that bordered on serene. Here all the slights and grudges and conflicts of being among people he couldn't get along with were cast aside. He was in his element. And when he fired his crossbow and there was a brief cry amid some long grass, instead of smugness Lia only saw satisfaction in his accomplishment.

Daryl retrieved his kill, holding up another rabbit - or possibly the same one earlier - impaled on his arrow.

Lia hadn't even seen the animal crouched only a few feet away. "How did-"

"'Cuz I know how t' look at what's there."

"I was looking," Lia said.

Daryl shook his head. "You were too busy tryin' t' be quiet." He pulled the arrow loose and stuffed the dead rabbit into the gunnysack hanging from his belt. "You was trompin' through these woods like it was some kinda role-playin' game. You forgot your feet're connected to th' ground. You think about bein' quiet when you sneak around in the city?"

Lia shook her head.

"No," he said, "'Cuz you know you're part of it, not sumthin' separate. It's the same here. Quit thinkin' about how t' move yer feet and pay attention to what's around ya. If y' do that, you won't hafta worry about hittin' small, fast-movin' targets 'cuz you'll get 'em before they get th' chance to run."

Lia bit her lip in thought. "How long did it take you to learn?"

Daryl smirked. "Longer 'n we got time for." His group would be leaving soon. Rick was already working to convince the more reluctant ones.

Lia nodded. "Then we'd better work on this as much as we can." She hefted her bow. "Tell me what to look for."

Daryl had to admit, her determination impressed him. She listened to and followed his instructions without question, ignoring the occasional jibe the threw in to see if he could get a rise out of her. She paid close attention when he pointed out signs of animals that had passed through; bent grass, scuff marks in the dirt, a tuft of fur caught in the bark of a tree. When he pointed out the hiding place of a rabbit they'd tracked, he saw Lia's eyes widen the instant she made out the hunched rodent concealed in the undergrowth. Despite her obvious excitement, she raised her bow slowly so as not to startle the animal, then let fly. The rabbit didn't so much as squeak as the arrow pierced its body. Lia hurried over and picked it up by its hind legs, grinning at her first kill.

"Well, it's a start," she said.

"Only took six hours," Daryl remarked.

Lia's arm dropped, the dead rabbit bumping against her leg. "God, have we really been out here that long? No wonder I'm so hungry."

Daryl glanced up at the bright sky through the tree branches overhead. "Wanna call it a day?"

Lia grimaced. "Probably shouldn't push myself too hard my first day at this, right?"

Daryl took the rabbit from her and put it in the sack with the one he'd killed, returning the arrow to her. They started back for home, no longer bothering with stealth. After a few minutes Daryl felt eyes on him and turned to see Lia looking at him with a half-suppressed grin.

"What're you gawpin' at?"

"Nothing," she said, "It's just that when I look at you with your sleeveless shirt and crossbow and sack of rabbits, I keep hearing banjo music in my head."

Daryl snorted. "Fuckin' hate banjo music."

"Seriously? What kinda good-ol'-boy are you?"

"Kind that listens to rock."

"Like Nugent? Skynrd?"

"Like Slipknot, Breaking Benjamin, Disturbed."

"Sounds like my playlist. Back when I still had an mp3 player, that is," Lia mused. "You surprise me. You've hardly insulted me all day. Pretty soon you're gonna forget to call me half-breed."

Daryl's expression hardened. "I ain't forgettin' what you are."

Lia fell silent for a few paces. "Does it really bother you that much that I'm half Indian?"

She thought for a second when he suddenly halted that he was going to snap at her, but then she heard a faint rustling and realized something out there made him pause. She looked in the same direction his head was turned and saw it, a walker staggering through the woods. It looked fresher than most, a survivor whose luck had run out. Neither of them hesitated; they raised their weapons, but Lia was just a little faster. Her arrow penetrated the weak spot between its eyes and the creature fell without uttering a sound. Lia stepped forward to retrieve her arrow. "Sorry," she murmured.

"Not like I'm keepin' score."

"I wasn't apologizing to you," she said, holding the tainted arrow at her side. She would need to sterilize it when she got home. "I was apologizing to him," she pointed to the crumpled form.

Daryl frowned. "What th' hell for? It's just some geek had t' get put down."

"It used to be a person. It's not its fault it was infected. That's why I apologized. I'm sorry it ended up this way. That I had to kill it."

Daryl shook his head. "I don't get it."

"Yeah, well. I don't expect you to understand." She tromped past him, whatever good mood she had gone.

Daryl stared at her retreating back, then looked down at the walker's corpse. He scoffed. "Crazy bitch."

Daryl kicked the body once, then continued on his way.