A/N: Don't own (although I'd love to have my very own Norman Reedus :D) don't sue!

Lyrics are from 'Rain' by Patty Griffin

Rain

Hiatus Drabble 5

It's hard to listen to a hard, hard heart
Beatin' close to mine
Poundin' up against the stone and steel
Walls that I won't climb
Sometimes a hurt is so deep, deep, deep
You think that you're gonna drown
Sometimes all I can do is weep, weep, weep
With all this rain fallin' down
Strange, how hard it rains now
Rows and rows of big dark clouds
When I'm holding on underneath this shroud
Rain
It's hard to know when to give up the fight
Some things you want will just never be right
It's never rained like it has tonight before
Now, I don't wanna beg you, baby
For something maybe you could never give
I'm not lookin' for the rest of your life
I just want another chance to live
Strange, how hard it rains now
Rows and rows of big dark clouds
When I'm holdin' on underneath this shroud
Rain

Daryl blinked and squinted at the light suddenly piercing his closed lids. He swung up an arm to shade them, frowning at his disorientation. It took him a moment to realise that he was in Cassidy's tent. They must have fallen asleep, the sun was going down. She was lying besides him, more deeply asleep than he'd ever seen her. She looked strange against the ugly orange sleeping bag, her porcelain skin standing out against the dark green of the tent wall behind her. She was in her favourite position, curled on one side with one leg pulled over the other. Her hair was streaming over the pillow, exposing the delicate shell of her ear. One hand lay under her cheek, shielding her naked chest from his view.

Her tattoo was dark against her pale skin. Her legs, arms and chest were bronzed from the sun but her ribs were still slightly pale. It was quite small, barely five inches tucked under her arm, flaring wide at the top of her ribs and narrowing into the elaborate zip halfway down her ribs. They'd talked about her tattoos once. They'd been lying head to toe in the stifling heat of the tent after they'd finished, the muggy atmosphere heavy with sweat and sex. He'd brushed his fingertips over the black markings.

"It was a present to myself for my eighteenth birthday." She'd murmured, her eyes still closed. "My friend designed it."

He'd let the flat of his palm drift up to lie flat on her ribs, his big palm and long fingers splaying across her bare skin. His thumb caressed the underside of her breast.

"Hurt like a bitch."

He'd grinned.

"It's my friend's interpretation of me, apparently." She'd said lazily, stretching like a cat under his hand and stroking fingers. "I have no idea what he was getting at."

Daryl ran his thumb over a miniature depiction of a sword twined with unbelievably tiny roses nestled between two ribs. She'd shivered slightly.

"I am an enigma." She'd announced haughtily in a dozy sort of way. "Far too complex for a mere man to understand."

"You don't think I understand you?"

She had opened her eyes then, staring at him in surprise. He'd broken out into a grin, his probing fingers running teasing circles around her nipple.

"I think you understand as far as you need to."

He'd replaced his fingers with his mouth and there'd been no more discussion.

She shifted in her sleep, a crease appearing between her brows and her lips curving slightly. He realised that his wandering mind had caused quite a reaction, the result of which was now digging into her thigh. She sighed, shifting her head on the cushion. He couldn't believe he was actually lying here watching her sleep. He was actually losing it. Must be.

"Stop brooding." She murmured without opening her eyes. "What's your problem this time, Mary?"

"Just wonderin' how my balls managed to shrivel up without me noticing."

"Certainly don't look it from here."

"I meant metaphorically." He said with some dignity, rolling onto his front.

"Big words, redneck." She was definitely grinning now. "You know what they do to me."

She leaned over him, her heavy hair brushing against his cheek as she pressed her lips against his bare shoulder.

"Let me guess, you're worrying about losing your sense of masculinity or some other such nonsense." Her words whispered over his naked flesh, not easing the tension in his groin in the slightest. "I would have thought that getting laid would make you feel more manly… of course you're far too complex an individual for me to try and comprehend."

"Are you taking the piss?" He murmured into the depths of his folded arms under his head.

"You might seem simple." Cassidy said, propping her chin up on his shoulder and looking at him as he surveyed her over his shoulder. "But I wouldn't know where to begin. You might think I'm complicated but I am nothing compared to you, Daryl Dixon."

She reached down, wrapping her warm fingers around his erection and squeezing gently.

"Don't worry about it, it doesn't seem to have gone anywhere." She giggled into his ear. "I don't know what's going on in that brain of yours and I don't really care to know, just stop worrying." She slid back down onto her back and peered up at him. "Of course, if you want to prove your virility…"

She wriggled her eyebrows at him, arching her back quite provocatively until he rolled over onto her with a growl of challenge.

Daryl yawned and stretched lazily, scratching his chest where a bead of sweat had tickled him. The light outside had the distinct grey hue of very early morning. He leaned over and unzipped the flaps, letting the still cool early morning air waft over them. Cassidy was sleeping again. For someone who usually only caught a couple of hours of sleep, he'd worn her out so much she'd slept through the entire night he mused smugly. Her breathing hitched a little strangely and he frowned. She was very flushed. It wasn't that hot in here, not this early. He touched the back of his hand to her forehead. It was burning hot. The smooth skin puckered and she made an irritable sound.

After a moment she stirred, levering herself up onto one elbow. Her frown deepened and she fell back against the raggedy cushion.

"Whoa!" She put her hand to her head. "Head rush."

Daryl sat up, oblivious of his nakedness, and pushed her back down when she tried to sit up. She glared at him.

"Ya ill." He announced gruffly.

She peered at him in amazement.

"Lie back down."

She contemplated arguing but she really did feel very weak.

"What the hell did you do to me, redneck?" She muttered half-heartedly as she worked her way stubbornly into a sitting position.

He scowled at her but she ignored him, sitting up had made nausea surge in her stomach and she was concentrating on not throwing up. It was a losing battle and she hurriedly scrambled for the tent flaps. When she was done she rubbed her bare hands on the dewy grass and massaged the dampness into her cheeks and temples. She rinsed her mouth out with a half full bottle of tepid water amongst her discarded clothes. Realising she was naked, and Hershel's people stirred early, she withdrew back into the tent.

"Lie back down, Red." Daryl ordered again, putting one big hand on her bare shoulder and gently pushing.

"I'm fine." She argued stubbornly, although she did have to admit that he was wavering slightly in front of her.

He muttered something under his breath, turning away from her and rifling through a pack in the corner of the tent. It was a small tent and even in her slightly woozy condition, Cassidy managed to admire the sleek bare back rippling with muscles and the tight smooth buttocks marked only by a scratch or two she'd made with her fingernails along the way. The thought made her giggle and she reached over. He felt her pinch and he glowered at her over his shoulder. He turned around with a relatively clean t-shirt. One of the ones Lori and Carol had washed yesterday.

She took it from him and slipped it on. It had been nestled right against the wall of the tent so it was slightly cool from the dewy grass outside.

"You're adorable." She grinned as she settled back down into the sleeping bag they'd been using.

"Ya sick." He repeated, almost awkwardly. "Don't gotta make it worse lyin' around naked."

"I'm not sick." She sighed, cushioning her head on her arm so she could see him properly. "Just a woman thing."

The silence became so heavy that she cracked open her eyes again. He was gaping at her, all the colour had drained from his face and his eyes were so big she was slightly concerned they might pop out. He was staring at her as if she'd grown another head. It took her a moment but she finally figured out what he was thinking. She felt a flare of genuine curiosity and a little malicious flicker of glee. She rubbed her belly and his eyes darted immediately to her hand, fixing on it as if it was some sort of poisonous reptile. She could see the cogs turning in his head, racing back over all their encounters. She wondered if it was cruel to make him believe it, but a rather huge part of her was burning up with curiosity at what he'd do about it.

"I am feeling delicate." She said thoughtfully.

He flinched. After an interminably long moment, he reached out a none-too-steady hand and smoothed his hand awkwardly over her tangled hair, brushing it back behind her ear and over her shoulder. Slightly afraid that she may have scared him into revealing something she wasn't ready to know about, she forced herself to laugh. He looked as if she'd slapped him and he hurriedly withdrew his hand. She caught it and held it in hers.

"I'm not pregnant."

"But we never… I never… we didn't use…"

He seemed completely baffled, caught somewhere between relief and confusion. She took his fingers and brushed them against a spot on the inside of her upper arm.

"Feel that bump? That's a contraceptive implant." He prodded the slightly raised skin experimentally. "They last for three years. This one is hardly a year old. I don't need condoms to stop you knocking me up."

He let his hand drop from her arm although his eyes were still fixed firmly on the little patch of flesh.

"So you're not-"

"I'm hardly that stupid." She snorted. "Like I want to be lugging around a bowling ball of dead weight for nine months when I'm trying to survive. I don't think even I could manage to keep my mouth shut during labour and screaming the house down and attracting a bunch of those fuckers isn't exactly intelligent." She felt queasy again and she snuggled back into the sleeping bag.

"But you're still ill." He said, looking grateful for the change of topic.

"Just dehydrated, Florence Nightingale." She gestured vaguely with one hand. "I just need some fluids and I'll be good to go."

Before Daryl could answer Rick's soft southern twang echoed outside the tent calling his name. Cassidy gestured that he could leave when he continued to squint at her thoughtfully. Eventually he pulled on his jeans and ducked out of the tent.

She couldn't breathe. Couldn't see. She touched her face with shaking hands. Her eyes were wide open but she couldn't see. Fear gripped her chest and paralysed her lungs, squeezing an iron band around the little sacs of muscle that kept her alive. She waved her hands frantically before her eyes, opening her lids as wide as she possibly could to catch any stray shafts of light. Nothing. She could feel the breeze her flapping palms were creating but she could see nothing but inky blackness.

She closed her eyes tightly. Counting to three then opening them again. Still nothing. Her heart was hammering too fast, her lungs weren't taking enough air in to cope… she was having a panic attack. She'd learnt to control her fear, to take and lock it away in a secluded part of her mind to be examined later. She had learnt dozens of little tricks to ease her fears and allow her to concentrate on what needed to be done, but she could not think of a single one while she was being confronted with her worst fear.

When she was seven she'd accidentally sprayed herself in the eyes with perfume and they had been bandaged for days. Unable to see she had learned to rely on her other senses but she had never forgotten that overwhelming sense of helplessness, the unutterable fear of being so vulnerable and isolated. Of all the fears she had learnt to overcome, she had never fully got past the dread of finding herself suddenly blind again. Panic overrode her usual composure and she flailed her arms desperately, searching for the sides of the tent but there was nothing. Air all around her. She drew a deep breath, expanding her lungs so far it hurt, and screamed.

"Cassidy! Cassidy! What's wrong? You're dreaming."

Carl could hardly keep hold of her she was twisting and writhing so desperately. Her mouth was open but no sound was coming out. She'd tangled herself up unmercifully in the sleeping bag and blankets. Eventually, afraid she'd hurt herself, he grabbed a discarded half full bottle of water and emptied it over her head. Her wild jerking stopped and her eyes snapped open. She was drenched in sweat, the t-shirt sticking to her and strands of her hair clinging to her face and throat.

"My eyes…" She managed to stammer.

She lifted shaking hands to her face, blinking rapidly and examining her long fingers as if she'd never seen them before.

"You were dreaming." Carl said again, uncertain over what to do now. "I was walking past, you were rolling around-"

Cassidy was trembling all over as if she were freezing. Her face was stony and Carl figured it was time to leave. Cassidy didn't like people to see her vulnerable, Lochie had told him so. He looked at her. She looked at him. Carl had never been more surprised than when she suddenly burst into tears. Not the noisy tears children cried, but deep wracking breathless sobs that sounded as if they physically hurt. Carl did not understand grown ups, or girls for that matter, but he had had more than his fair share of nightmares. He reached out with the simple innocence of a boy not yet confused by girls and everything related to them, and took her into his arms. If she was surprised she didn't show it, or maybe she was just beyond that point, because she let him put his small arms around her. He murmured the soft things his mother told him after a nightmare and petted her damp hair soothingly.

Eventually her trembling eased and the panting gasps she'd been uttering ceased. She slipped out of Carl's embrace and brushed the backs of her hands over her wet cheeks.

"Well this is embarrassing." She grumbled, swiping her hair back from her damp face and neck. "What's it going to cost me to keep this from getting out?"

He frowned at her, his clear pure blue eyes peering innocently across at her.

"I won't tell." He said earnestly, looking almost insulted.

Her face split into a smile and she ruffled his hair.

"I know you won't, kid."

She looked at him thoughtfully, then leaned over and pressed her lips lightly against the freckled plane of his cheek. The pale skin flushed almost immediately and he dropped his gaze shyly.

"You're going to be one hell of a good guy there, Carl." She winked at him and the colour built in his cheeks. "Going to have the ladies lining up."

"If we're not the only ones left by then." He muttered, turning shyly away from her and peering out through the open tent flaps.

"No way." Cassidy protested. "There's bound to be some politicians who made it. Cockroaches can survive a nuclear war, you know."

He giggled but he clearly didn't know what she meant, he was just glad to hear the teasing note was back in her voice.

"Listen to me, kid." She settled down cross-legged, tucking the sleeping bag around her waist. "I'm not gonna lie. The world is fucked. It's not pretty and it's not going to get any better any time soon." She reached out and flicked a stray lock of dark hair off his forehead with one long finger. "But there are people out there. Admittedly a lot of them aren't very nice."

She frowned thoughtfully and he saw the crease form between her eyebrows.

"People like you and your dad and Lochie, good people like you… need people like us." She didn't mention him but he knew she meant Daryl too, she got a strange glint in her eye whenever she thought about Daryl. "Because we're the kind of bastards who can make the decisions good people shouldn't have to make." She reached across and took his hand in hers. "You're strong, Carl… and you're going to be just as strong and as sensible as your dad one day. You're going to have to make hard choices. And I think you'll make the right ones."

He held his breath. Cassidy was always light-hearted with him, teasing and laughing. She had never treated him like a child like the others did. His childish crush on her had only gotten stronger while she'd looked after him. Being exceptionally good at reading people for his age, he knew that only he, Lochie and Daryl were party to the pockets of intimacy she exposed. He had never seen her so serious.

"Of course when it comes to women, the good guys usually have crappy taste."

Carl blushed darker than ever.

"You like good guys." He told the floor of the tent, his cheeks burning brighter than a stop sign. "You like Daryl."

"You think Daryl is a good guy?" She asked thoughtfully, her eyes straying down to the t-shirt she was wearing.

"Don't you?"

She grinned then, flipping a long lock of hair over her shoulder.

"He's too grumpy to be a good guy." She laughed. "Can I tell you a secret?"

Carl nodded eagerly. She leaned in towards him, cupping her hand around her mouth.

"He's a big softie really. All gooey inside." She murmured into his ear. "A total pussy when he's not kicking walkers back where they came from."

Carl giggled so hard he had to clap a hand to his mouth when a shadow loomed suddenly over them. He tensed immediately, swallowing his laughter, but Cassidy didn't move a muscle. After a moment Daryl ducked down and glared at them through the open tent flap. She'd clearly heard him coming because she didn't seem the least bit phased by his sudden appearance.

"Ya mom's looking for you." Daryl squinted down at Carl. "What're you doin'?"

"Talking." Carl said blandly, meeting Daryl's glare with innocent blue eyes just a shade brighter than his.

Cassidy smothered a grin. Knowing Rick, she figured Carl had been brought up not to lie… and he wasn't. There was nobody quite like a kid for evading a flat out lie with sweet innocent guile.

"Scram."

Carl didn't need to be told twice, he hopped to his feet and dashed off with only one glance over his shoulder at Cassidy. She winked.

"You spend a lot of time with that kid." Daryl muttered, scrubbing a hand over his face and dropping down and spreading out on the sleeping bag.

"Aw don't be jealous, Dixon." She purred, stretching her legs out over his lap. "I was just giving him a pep talk. Telling him what a ladykiller he's gonna be one day."

Daryl snorted but didn't reply, absently running his hands over her bare calves.

"I had a nightmare." She wasn't entirely sure why she was telling him, but the paralysing fear she'd experienced was still weighing heavily on her chest. "What did Rick want?"

Daryl shrugged. He didn't want to talk about Rick or the apocalypse or Carl. He didn't even want to think about Sophia or his wound or the search.

"Hey, you two! I'm not about to get an eyeful am I? Not that the two of you don't make a pretty sight when you're naked, I'm sure you do but voyeurism really isn't my thing-"

Lochie stuck her head through the tent flaps, both palms clapped tightly over her eyes. She peeped through her fingers. Daryl was glaring at her but she seemed unfazed.

"Where've you been all morning?" She demanded, nudging Cassidy with her sneakered toe.

"I wasn't well."

Lochie laughed disbelievingly.

"You're never ill." She pointed out. "Come on, you promised."

"What?"

Lochie glowered at her, both hands on her hips.

"You promised to teach me yoga when we got the time."

"That was before the world went to shit, Lochie." Cassidy grumbled.

"And now we have all the time we'll ever need. Let's go." Lochie announced, quite unrepentant.

Cassidy swore at her but her aching body was thoroughly on Lochie's side.

"Alright." She sighed. "Although I don't know how you expect me to teach you. Yoga is about patience and balance and self-control. You don't have any of those qualities."

"The hell I don't!" Lochie argued as Cassidy pulled on her discarded sweat pants. "What about that job in Sicily? We were dangling on that bloody beam for hours. I kept my balance then… and my patience."

"You were wired to me. You kept your balance because I did, genius."

"Oh whatever. We wouldn't have got in there in the first place if it wasn't for me."

"Oh I don't know, I'm pretty sure I could set the alarm off myself."

"I did not set the alarm off."

"So it just happened to go off as soon as we got in there?"

"Coincidence. Happens all the time."

"I don't believe in coincidences."

"And I don't believe in good luck, doesn't stop me doing one good deed every day, just in case."

"That's karma, genius."

"Whatever it is, I'm still not seeing any proof yet."

"That's because your karma sucks."

Daryl sighed as their bickering voices faded into the distance. It didn't even bug him the way they argued any more, in fact he was finding it disturbingly familiar and even amusing. He didn't know which part concerned him more.

gurl3677 – absolutely :D

LadyLecter47 – I know! And then we'll only get a few weeks until it'll be the end of the series and we have to wait ages for the next one :(

VileMalapert – admittedly I'd quite enjoy spending my day daydreaming about Rick and Daryl groping each other lol thanks very much glad you enjoyed it

undeadangel – thanks a lot

Dalonega Noquisi – it was a just a little bit of fun to keep you on your toes lol