Reminder of the standard boring disclaimer - not mine, blah, blah.

Totally unrelated to the story, I'm RIDICULOUSLY EXCITED because I get to go to Portland Comic Con this weekend, and Norman Reedus will be there. Anyone else going?

They stayed in the house for two more days, allowing Carol to sleep off the worst of her concussion symptoms. Daryl spent part of the time fortifying the damaged front door and fetching enough food and water to last them until she took them to wherever she'd been holed up. After that, he mostly watched her sleep.

When she was finally feeling well enough to travel, they packed up their things and got ready to leave the house for good. Carol dug in the closet, looking for something to wear, but the woman who had lived in this house just didn't own much in the way of practical clothing. So she ended up keeping the oversized T-shirt, putting on a wine colored pencil skirt, and zipping on her boots. Daryl said nothing, but found the skirt-and-boots look brain-numbingly sexy on her. He hoped she might keep the skirt for a while. He felt a little guilty thinking it, what with her still being injured. But maybe if he asked, she would wear it just for him.

They picked up their packs and started downstairs. As they left the bedroom, he heard Carol's breathing becoming unsteady. They started down the stairs, but before they reached the bottom, she had dropped down on the steps, hugging her pack to her chest. She was shivering and staring at the dark stains on the floor at the bottom of the staircase.

He tossed his own pack down and sat on the step below her, putting a hand on her knee.

"Hey, it's okay – you're safe."

"I know, I know. I'm sorry," Her voice shook.

"Come on. I'll take you through, and we never have to come back here again. You're with me – you're safe. Come on, kitten, take my hand."

Her wide eyes fixed firmly on his face, she took the hand he offered and stood, slinging her pack over her shoulder. She followed him down the stairs, one slow step at a time. When they finally made it out the front door, she let out a shaky breath and loosened the death grip she had on his fingers.

Eyes scanning for walkers, he led her to the car and the bike, now tucked behind a garage across the street. They loaded their packs into the car, and she settled into the driver's seat. He slipped into the passenger seat for just a moment to check on her.

"Are you okay to drive? We can come back for the bike later, if we need to."

She took a deep breath and shook her head. "No, I'm fine. We don't need to leave the bike."

"Then lead the way," he said, getting out of the car. He started up his bike and pulled onto the street after her. They had driven just a few miles when she turned down a little side street with older houses on slightly bigger lots. She stopped in the driveway of a smallish house and hopped out to open the gate. She drove in, and he followed, closing the gate after them. They parked behind the house.

He liked the place. There were tall, heavy shrubs between the yard and the neighboring places, making it easier to keep from being seen as well as providing a physical barrier, limiting the likely directions of approach. The backyard contained the remnants of a little garden, a few things still managing to stay alive without being tended, and there was a rain barrel that was clearly newly installed. He smiled at the thought of his clever Carol putting it in place.

They went inside, weapons at the ready, double checking the place for walkers or other intruders, but all was clear. They brought in their things from the car, and she led him to the basement. He was awed by the sheer amount of stuff that was packed in there. There was more home canned food down there than he'd ever seen in one place in his life. That had clearly been left here by the previous owners, but the rest of it...Carol must have been working every day to bring all of that in.

"Remind me we need to start sending you on runs more often," he said, then clenched his jaw and cursed himself for being an idiot.

She looked at him with those big, sad, blue eyes, the ones that so pulled at his heart on the farm after Sophia was lost. There was hurt in them now as there had been then, and he moved to take her hands.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't thinkin'. We don't need to talk about that right now."

She nodded and went to unpack their bags.

They ate a quiet meal together that felt a little strained. He'd wanted to avoid bringing up anything to do with the prison until she was well again. It seemed unfair to talk about it before she was healed, like he would be pressuring her while she was vulnerable, and he didn't want that. He wanted her to choose to come with him. To choose him.

After they ate, she announced she was exhausted and was taking a nap. She curled up on the crappy little mattress with her back to him and dropped off to sleep.

He watched her for a while, but eventually settled himself on the floor next to the mattress with his head resting on a folded sweatshirt he pulled out of one of her many boxes. He tried to figure out what he could possibly say to her, how to tell her how he felt about her. How to make her understand how much he needed her. Imaginary conversations ran through his head, but they all ended up sounding stupid. Frustrated with himself, he eventually dropped off into a fitful sleep.

When Daryl woke, she was on her side, propped on an elbow, watching him thoughtfully.

"What? Am I droolin'?" he asked.

"You called me kitten. That's why I was remembering cats."

A grin crept out, and he shrugged, not sure what he should say.

She watched him carefully for a moment, then quirked a corner of her mouth and said, "I kind of liked it."

Afraid it might be a terrible mistake, he gathered every bit of courage he had in one deep breath. He moved over so he was on the mattress with her, resting his head on the pillows, and put out an arm, inviting her in. She hesitated only a moment before very carefully tucking herself in next to him, nestling her head on his shoulder. His free hand came up to cover hers where it rested on his chest. He closed his eyes and reveled in her warmth and the feel of her breathing against him, his body humming from her closeness.

"Why did you come back? I never asked. I thought maybe something had happened..." She trailed off, apparently fearful of bad news.

"Nothing happened, everyone's fine," he assured her. She let go of the breath she'd been holding, tickling his neck.

"Then why?"

He paused, mind flashing anxiously to all the imaginary ways this conversation had gone wrong. "Well, um...I...realized I never told you I loved you that night, and I couldn't let you go without you knowin'."

She pushed herself up to look at him.

"So, um. I love you. And now you know, I guess." The longer she looked at him the more anxious he became. Maybe this had been a bad idea.

But then she smiled that beautiful smile that made her eyes light up. The smile he saw so rarely, the one that made his insides flip when it was directed at him as it was now.

"I love you, too," she said, eyes shining. "Now kiss me, jackass – why've you been wasting all this time?"