A/N: Trust. I promise. Like Carol…I promise. ;-) ~CeeCee

NB: In case it's unclear, this chapter takes place concurrently with Chapter 6. E.g., this is the run these guys are on when Marie dies, and Tyreese and Carol have their...erm…meeting in the yard.

Supply runs: used to be, with the original group, they'd go every month. Take a few hours, out and back. Now with their growing (and let's face it, more compromised in terms of strength and durability) group, runs are near-weekly, all-day procedures. Findin' a spot or hittin' up a known one. Clearing or corralling walkers. Then loadin' up.

Daryl grunts, ignores his screaming back and aching shoulders, and heaves another box of supplies into the trunk of the car. Glenn passes him another, shifting the weight of stacked cans of vegetables, and he throws it insouciantly on top of the others. He slams down the hatchback, pushes his hair out of his face, lights a smoke.

"That's it," Glenn sighs. "Thank fuck." Daryl proffers his cigarettes at him. Glenn shakes his head, though from time to time, he'll take one. Not that he needs one right now, Daryl thinks. He's jumped up as cat with a cup of coffee.

Michonne and the Woodbury folks are getting ready to roll out. Daryl's about to hop on his bike when Glenn grabs him.

"Hey man, can you hang out her for a minute? I wanna go grab a few things," he gestures back to the store, and Daryl nods. "Guys! We'll catch up, go on. Need to secure a few things over here."

Michonne looks at both of them for a long moment. Daryl knows she doesn't believe a word of what Glenn's saying, but nods. "You got exactly fifteen minutes until I turn around for you guys. There's a reason why we do this in a large group, and it ain't for loading the cars," she says, then raises her voice. "Okay, let's head out!"

The two men watch the three other cars grind up dust and debris, Daryl squinting at Glenn through cigarette smoke. Somethin's up. Sure as shit. Glenn runs his hand through his hair, making it stand on end. Dude is freakin' out, he finishes the smoke, tosses the butt. Looks away. He notices, sometimes it's easier for people to say whatever it is they gotta say if they don't have to look you in the eye. Does the trick.

"Maggie's pregnant," Glenn coughs out. "I wanna go grab her some stuff she needs, vitamins, stuff like that."

Something in Daryl goes cold. He thinks on Lori, on Li'l Asskicker growing up without her momma. Thinks about Marie and the wailing ball of life that's David, back at the prison. About Carol's hands, stained with a mother's pain and labor. About Carol's face, marked with a mother's pain and loss.

"Didn't know you had it in you, Kemosabe," he reaches out, roughly shakes Glenn's hand. "Doesn't Hershel have all that stuff back at the prison?"

"Yeah, man," Glenn is still gripping his hand. Looks like he's about to laugh and cry at the same time. "Yeah, but we're not telling Hershel yet. He'll be happy, I think, but really worried too…" Glenn trails off. "Maggie was thinking of telling Carol. Said she really just killed it the other day with Marie, was cool as cucumber, keep her calm. Made her feel like maybe, if Marie and David came out of it alright, Maggie and our baby will be fine too. Maggie's younger than Marie, in better shape. There's no reason everything won't be fine, right?" He's nearly begging.

"You better hurry up," Daryl tells him. "Before Michonne comes back with that sword of hers and starts swingin'." He gives him a slap on the back. Glenn walks towards the sliding doors of the super mart, then turns back, gives Daryl a look he can't read.

"This is probably none of my business," Glenn clears his throat, looks ready to run, but stands his ground. "Damn, I know it's not, but we've known each other for awhile, and you're a friend, Daryl. I'd trust you with my life."

"Shit," he scoffs, but he's pleased. He's also tensed, waiting for the rest of what Glenn has to say. Part of him knows, already. The part that's been waiting, pissed and forlorn, outside of a closed door the past few weeks.

"Speaking of Carol," Glenn says, waits for a reaction. Daryl gives him nothing. Spits, lights another cigarette. Ignores his quickening heart. Glenn takes his silence for consent, continues, "Speaking of Carol. You might…want to move on that, sooner rather than later, if you get me?"

Daryl stares down at yellow-lined pavement of the deserted parking lot. At his feet are a sun-faded candy bar wrapper and a severed, ancient-looking forearm. He kicks at both, sends them flying.

"Look, man," Glenn's voice is soft and serious. "Maggie wouldn't have looked twice at someone like me before this all went down. It's all different, now. Anything we think we know about ourselves, all that shit we carry around with us, it's all changed. Hell, I know I'm a different man, a better man, than I was two years ago. And so are you."

He risks glancing up at Glenn, who's standing there, arms folded. Daryl knows he took a chance, saying all this to him. He risks something of his own, a question:

"How did it start, you and Maggie?"

Glenn looks trapped. "Well, I mean, it was a few days after we got to the farm…and we had sex in the pharmacy in town. And look, I am not suggesting that's what you do, but my point is –"

"You better hurry the hell up and get your shit, before I leave you here on your own," Daryl nearly growls, flushing. Goddamit.

"Alright, alright,"Glenn holds his hands up in surrender. "All I'm saying is, Maggie presented me with an opportunity, one I never expected or counted on. And now I can't imagine life without her. Okay? So…just…don't blow an opportunity, you know? Or someone else might take it for you."

And he turns, hurries inside. Leaving Daryl to contemplate the remnants and scraps of the old world, around and inside of him.