A/N: So I changed the title of the story, because the current one describes it so much better IMO.

Also, this chapter took a bit longer to write, because it was kind of difficult and I had no idea how to deal with Daryl being the way he is in this one D: And I know this is slow with Daryl/Glenn but it's getting there eventually! I just want to build this enough because there are more characters that are just as interesting to me out there and it's not just about Daryl and Glenn, but about how their relationship grows with these events and people pushing them together.

Feedback is much appreciated!

Chapter 5

Glenn

Glenn shifted in his chair, damp hands clasped tightly together on his lap.

Shitshitshitshit. Fuck. And shit. What the hell had he gotten himself into? Mom wouldn't approve. Dad wouldn't approve. Rick so totally would not approve of this. And Glenn himself was so frightened he nearly pissed his pants every time he talked to the Governor. His backpack was lying around by the door.

What would Rick have done in a situation like this?

Rick was a man of justice. No matter what, he'd try to make everything right. No, he would make everything right. He always did.

Until recently. Rick's been out of it, to say the least. He was in no condition to lead a group, not to mention keep one alive. But it was the apocalypse. There was no choice, because their still very amateur of a group didn't consist of many able born-to-be leaders.

So Glenn clung to the good memories instead. When Rick was still very sane, had his wife, hell, had Shane… Rick's done good things. Rick's done bad things. Now he did basically nothing because he didn't know how to. Glenn would know after all these years… and he clung to the good things. Tried to remember how to do good.

Glenn tried. So hard.

"What you got?"

Glenn swallowed. He didn't really know what to say. That everything was alright? Sounded too suspicious. The Governor leaned slightly forward in his seat to observe his face in the dim light of the room.

"I haven't seen anything yet," Glenn said, tried to sound confident under two pairs of critical eyes. "Nothing on my way from the east either."

"Yeah, I didn't think they'd get there this soon," the Governor agreed silently. "Milton here, my advisor, he's working hard for the cure. We really want this to work." Milton nodded, his stupid round glasses falling down his nose a bit. The man didn't look like he was the survivor type. Had probably stuck with the Governor for a while to stay alive.

"Research is proceeding pretty slowly but without the proper equipment… Still, we're closer every day. There has to be some way science can explain all that's happening," Milton explained with a boring and unsure voice, Glenn could tell. He just stared like an animal that had no idea about what the hell was going on.

"What we're trying to say is that we need your help," the Governor began gently, "so that we can help you and your camp. We can't afford any mistakes. Once all this is over and you do your job well, your camp can move here. We wanna figure this out together, right?"

Glenn still stared skeptically. And then, he was about to open his mouth and ask what it was that the Runners were so upset about, but there was a muted thump sounding from the hallway. He flinched, shutting up immediately.

"I just wanna make it clear that we don't want any trouble. Understand?" the Governor confirmed and Glenn managed a frozen nod before stumbling up from the chair. He gave one last nervous and very awkward wave to the two men in the room before he opened the door, closed it quickly behind and almost literally ran into a roadblock.

He glanced hurriedly up and scanned two bodies from head to toe in front of him. Both guys, frozen in place stared back, surprised, and Glenn's eyebrows shot up in recognition. The judging eyes belonged to the guy that'd been basically haunting his way into Glenn's life and mind: Daryl, the idiot who had led him to this tricky situation in the first place. Glenn took a step backwards, taking in the awkward position the men were in. Daryl had pinned another one of the Governor's henchmen to the wall with a thick, muscle-filled forearm to the neck. Daryl's now longish hair fell lightly to his cheeks, partially covering the bright blue eyes and the familiar stubble seemed to have been cut recently. The guy against the wall seemed slightly sweaty, his skin gleaming under the poor light of the hallway. Didn't look scared.

Daryl tilted his head and stared for a while longer, his dirty hair a slight mess. The crossbow was squeezed in the tight grip of his other hand, as usual. "The fuck ya want?" he spat at Glenn and pushed himself off the Hispanic guy and the wall. Glenn recoiled a bit more at that. "We ain't done yet," the redneck added, now turning his bitter expression towards the Hispanic guy again. After glaring for an unnecessarily long moment, he brushed past Glenn into the Governor's office.

Glenn flinched at the loud slam of the door. He then caught the Hispanic guy rubbing at the perfect skin of his neck and smirking. Quite handsome.

Glenn cleared his throat awkwardly and shuffled out of the hallway. He had definitely had enough of bigwigs and hicks and mestizos for the day.

Although one certain redneck was way too attractive for Glenn to want him gone. Not that Glenn wanted to admit that, of course. After all that Glenn had learned about Daryl…

Daryl

Daryl practically ran to his place, loaded his backpack with shit he thought he would need and secured it by pulling at the strap, throwing it over his shoulder. He quickly considered taking a crap in his bathroom with the poorly flushing toilet in it before leaving but decided against it. There would be enough time later, because this thing was more important than anything else and he suddenly felt the insurmountable urge to make sure that the camp that Andrea had occupied was still in one piece and safe. Unaffected.

Daryl grabbed his crossbow and all his extra bolts, packing them neatly along and shot straight out of the apartment.

He wasn't the type to help people. He didn't know why exactly he was helping the blonde girl, Amy (if he had heard right because damn if the girl's voice hadn't been trembling when she had said that), find the ignorant bastard that was her sister. But he kind of understood. Understood why he felt obliged, why he wanted to. That still didn't explain why he did it.

He walked down the hall and spotted Martinez' buff form leaning against the wall next to the Governor's office door. He eyed the man warily, stopping before him impatiently.

"'ssup with the Gov?" he asked, tried to sound neutral but a hint of reservation escaped to his gruff voice. Martinez looked up from his feet, wearing that wide smile of his.

"Nice to see ya too," the guy spoke clearly. "Saw ya just now, outside, talking to the girl… Ya got yourself a bitch?"

Daryl felt the first traces of anger invade his mind. "Ain't into whores."

"I see… The Governor's got a guest," Martinez began, taking a moment of silence to think while gnawing at his lower lip, "I've seen ya with the Chinese boy lately. Ya swing that way, huh?"

Daryl almost jumped. "Talks the douchebag who got no game at all," he grunted and leaned against the wall opposite to the Hispanic for support. He tried to stay calm despite the racing of his heart at the mention of Glenn and willed his blush to back the hell up. No reason to get mad at a little bit of picking. It was probably the most action he'd get for days in this world.

"Who says I don't," Martinez said calmly, "But if not the Chinese, oh man… the nigger? Cocksucker."

"Seen the way ya look at Philip. Ya sure ya ain't talkin' to yer own sorry ass?" Daryl stated cockily. Martinez stilled at that for a moment, biting down at his own teeth. Then, the man visibly relaxed and so the picking continued.

"Think ya should know living in the room next to mine. Hell, your empty white trash brain registers a needle dropping to the floor when ya should be kipping. Probably can't sleep if there's a pea under the mattress…" Martinez muttered into the silence of the hallway and the last word was so quiet that Daryl barely caught it, "…Pussy."

Daryl saw red. A thick wave of rage and nausea clouded his mind for a minimal moment, but it was enough time for him to jump straight for the asshole basically begging for it. He aimed for the neck, lucky to have forgotten about his crossbow for once because that would have been just nasty. He put force to it, though, pinning Martinez to the building harshly enough to bruise. There was a loud thud as the asshole's head hit the stone wall.

Martinez didn't flinch. He still wore that shit-eating grin on his stupid face and Daryl tried to stare it down. Didn't quite work out, and they ended up staring at each other while simply breathing harshly into each other's spaces.

It was only when the door to the office opened and the darn chink stepped out of it that they both turned their head towards the boy almost stumbling into them.

There was a yelp and loads of flailing from the chink, then a bit more staring as all three of them stilled. Daryl was the first to grow tired of the handicapping, pushed himself off Martinez (and made sure to add pressure doing it) while snapping at Glenn. "The fuck ya want?" he grunted, and got the reaction he wanted: kid backed away a little. Daryl looked at the uncertain face, it looked so old again. He couldn't help but wonder where the cap was.

There was no answer from the chink and Daryl turned his face back to Martinez, satisfied. "We ain't done yet." He still stared for a second before stomping off into the Governor's office, not knocking but slamming the door shut behind him loud enough for the whole town to hear.

The Governor had a knowing grin on his face as he turned in his chair. Daryl scanned the room, noting that Milton was there sitting at the coffee table with Philip, them both sipping at their afternoon tea. Philip motioned for him to sit down with them and Daryl did so with a heavy sigh.

"I don't think you need help with that thing you got going with Martinez," Philip stated calmly, a slight question framed in that sentence. Daryl shrugged and tapped his finger against the table restlessly. "Have you been thinking?"

"'bout what?" Daryl asked, dumbstruck. The Governor gave a laugh and Milton spilled some of his tea onto the white tablecloth. Philip barely noticed.

"You could be my right-hand man. Martinez is not one for that position." Philip took out another cup to pour hot water for Daryl as well. "Wouldn't be too hard on you, of course. Could provide you with better food and furniture. I need help announcing important things to the citizens with me. They'd look up to you. How's that –"

"Didn' come to talk 'bout that," Daryl cut in as he glanced at Milton wiping furiously at the stain on the white fabric with trembling hands. A shaky finger came up to lift the round glasses up his nose. "Gotta go find someone fer this girl in town. Gon' take a couple a' days."

Philip looked him up and down as much as he could with the coffee table between them, sighing, obviously noting his backpack and crossbow at the ready in his hand. He set the tea cup in front of Daryl, full of steaming liquid. "I can't hold you back, can I?"

Daryl grunted in response. His feet were itching to go already and he stood to leave, his tea untouched. "Just think about it!" he heard the Governor holler behind him as he broke into a light jog and exited the room, leaving the door wide open and ignoring Martinez' stupid smirk until he was out of the building.

T-Dog was on watch. Daryl cursed under his breath as he climbed the stairs to the top of the wall, earning a small wave from the nigger. "Where you goin', Daryl?"

"To find someone," he said, keeping it short as he jumped off the wall.

"Wait, man! I'll come with you, I'm dyin' to get outta here for a while, I –"

"'m goin' alone."

"But –"

"I'm fuckin' goin'!" he yelled, half turning around and giving the finger to T-Dog's black and now very confused face.

"Okay, bud, no need to blow up…"

"Ain't yer bud," Daryl muttered quietly to himself because he didn't have the energy to deal with people anymore.

He walked alone into the woods, the knot of his brow easing with every step towards Rick Grimes' camp. Anticipating to fulfill one dream and then, his job would be fucking done here. Done.