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

OK I'm sorry but it really bugs me how everyone now portrays Shane as some sort of psychotic rapist. I really don't condone violence against women but wtf? Has he ever threatened a single woman in the show apart from the incident with Lori? Erm no. In fact he's done more to protect the useless bint than she deserves after the way she treated him. Not that she deserved to be attacked because no one does but come on. Personally I'd rather have Shane in the show than Lori. Rant over :)

Rain

Hiatus Drabble 7

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

"Keep still!"

"I'm trying!"

"I thought you had a high pain threshold?"

"I have but you're jabbing too hard. You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?"

"Oh totally. I take great pleasure in this."

"I wouldn't put it past you. OW!"

Daryl was helping Carol drag buckets of water from the well back to camp when he heard the ruckus. Carl and Glenn were hovering outside Cassidy's tent looking worried. Daryl felt a shot of fear surge through his gut and he came to an abrupt halt. Carol looked over at him anxiously, clearly concerned he'd made his injury worse with the exertion. She followed his gaze. His face was drawn into a frown, his brow furrowed and his blue eyes were blazing. Carol was starting to understand the younger Dixon just a little bit and right now he looked absolutely furious.

"You should go and check on her-"

He cut her off with a blistering look, a curse streaming from his mouth before he could contain it. He grabbed up the buckets he'd dropped and stomped off towards the camp. Carol watched him go. She wasn't offended that he'd sworn at her, Daryl had to be handled a little like a wild animal. When he got scared he got angry, when he was close to feeling an emotion he got angry and when he was confused he got angry. Right now he was all three. He was wounded and he was going to lick his wounds and brood.

When Carol reached the camp he was pacing, a cigarette dangling from his lips and his fiery eyes jumping around as if they were on stalks. He was determinedly avoiding the tent where Lochie and Cassidy were still griping at each other. After an interminably long time, Carl wandered back over to the camp. Seeing that Daryl might literally take the boy's head off in his current state, Carol intercepted him.

"What's going on? Are they alright?"

Carl nodded, moving past Carol and rooting through the pile of dry laundry waiting to be sorted.

"Yeah. Cassidy got sunburnt. Lochie's putting lotion on it."

He finally retrieved an old t-shirt and dunked it in one of the buckets. He was heading back to the tent when Daryl's hand whipped out. He grabbed the t-shirt and stalked off ahead of him. Carl watched him go. Carol put a gentle hand on his shoulder and squeezed reassuringly.

"Is he mad at me?" Carl asked in bemusement.

"Daryl's mad at everyone, dear." Carol said soothingly.

Daryl glowered at Lochie and she glared right back, finally rolling her eyes then sliding out of the tent. Cassidy opened her eyes when she felt Lochie leave. Daryl towered over her looking thunderous.

"What's your problem?"

He crouched down in front of her. Her shoulders were bright red and rather angry-looking, they glistened where the lotion had already soaked in. He pressed the soaked t-shirt gently against the burnt skin and she flinched.

"Apparently my pasty English skin can't cope with standing in the direct midday sunlight for hours on end." She answered his unasked question grumpily. "Fucking Lochie's fault. Fucking yoga."

He still didn't reply. He could feel the heat of her skin emanating through the damp cloth.

"What's that?" He finally asked.

The burnt red skin had exposed a scar usually indiscernible against her freckled skin. It was shaped like a delicate white star, nestled right where her shoulder blended into her collar bone.

"Hmm? Oh. Bullet." She murmured, quite lost in the satisfying sensation of the tepid water dribbling over her burning flesh.

He ran his finger along a faint white trail along her inner upper arm.

"Knife." She peered at him curiously. "I'll give you the rundown if you like." She indicated a faint mark on her thigh he'd noticed but never asked about. "Broken window." She tipped her hand back so he could see the slightly raised scar along her palm. "Whip." She tilted her head so he could see a mark behind her ear, shaped rather like an arrowhead. "Another bullet, that one was a graze."

He'd observed all of them before but he'd never taken the time to ask about them, she was very cagey about her past. Now that she'd opened the door, however, his curiosity was getting the better of him.

"What about this one."

He placed his hand across her ribs, just under her left breast where a delicate silver scar about three inches long was hidden by her black vest. He could feel her thumping heart increase its pace although whether it was because of his hand or his question, he couldn't tell.

"A knife." She whispered, casting her eyes to where his brown hand was warm against her ribs through the thin material of her top.

"Musta hurt."

She shrugged and then hissed in pain, her breath whistling through her teeth as she tugged the painful burnt skin.

"It was my mistake, I misjudged him. I thought he was planning his way out, he was calculating how long it would take him to shove his knife between my ribs before I could stop him."

Daryl could feel his own heart start to pound a little faster.

"Obviously, he managed it." She went on, tipping her head forwards so her fringe drifted over her forehead and masked her eyes. "If the blade had been a few millimetres longer…" She drew her thumb across her neck with a not very humorous smile twisting her lips.

"It woulda pierced ya heart." Daryl the hunter cottoned on almost immediately and she nodded.

"Shredded my lungs as it was, broke a rib which then also pierced my lung, grazed my heart." Her skin had gone quite clammy and sweat had broken out on her forehead. "I had to spend my twenty-first birthday in a freaking hospital, breathing through a machine. Bastard."

Now there was the Cassidy he was getting used to.

"I did kill him, of course." She said suddenly, the slight cold tinge to her voice indicating she was testing him. He didn't flinch and he met her assessing green gaze head on. "He assumed that since I was coughing up blood everywhere and wheezing like a good 'un, I wasn't a threat any more."

Her lips twisted up into that menacing, slightly maniacal, smile that simultaneously sent a shiver down his spine and a jolt of desire coursing through his blood.

"Aren't you scared of me?" She asked suddenly, sounding more curious than threatening.

"No."

"The others would be… if they knew who I was." She mused as he resumed his careful cooling of her burnt skin.

"Ya care what they think?" He snorted doubtfully, squeezing the t-shirt so the water ran in rivulets over her bare skin, staining the dusty black vest.

"They've got bigger things to be scared of than me." She cast an amused look over him. "They're scared of you. I think that's adorable."

"What?" Daryl growled, looking thoroughly affronted.

Colour mounted in his cheeks and his eyes shot sparks but she only smiled back at him serenely.

"Well you're such a sweetheart." She continued. "All hard and stony on the outside when really you're soft and gooey on the inside."

He sputtered at her, too outraged to find the right words to defend his masculine ability to intimidate.

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone." She went on airily, quite clearly thoroughly enjoying herself. "Oh don't get your knickers in a twist." She scolded when he glared at her. "How about if I spread the word that despite your soft innards, you're very hard in all the right places?"

Her eyes were sparkling mischievously and, although he thoroughly wanted to snub her out of pique, he couldn't seem to work up the motivation when her little hands had managed to slide up under his sleeveless flannel shirt and were currently stroking the little path of hair descending from his belly button.

"Really? You've burnt yaself to a crisp an' you still want to-"

"Absolutely." She replied immediately, leaning forwards until he could feel her breath fanning against his pulse point. "Maybe I can't get enough of you." She giggled, working at unbuttoning his jeans.

Daryl grunted. He could hold his own with women but he wouldn't exactly call himself irresistible. Of course he'd never met anyone like her. If they'd met Before, she probably wouldn't have given him a second look. Or even a first look.

"What's wrong?"

He realised he'd been staring intently down at her for quite a while and she was now peering at him with a frown.

"Thinkin'." He grunted.

"Whatever you're thinking, it's clearly wrong." She said wryly, flicking her gaze down to where her hands were now resting on his jeaned thighs and absolutely nothing was happening.

He squirmed. That had never happened to him before. Alright maybe once when he was so drunk he was almost paralytic and he wouldn't have been able to tell the difference between his then girlfriend and a gap in the duvet. But usually just being near her was enough to make him jump to attention. He peeked at her but she didn't look offended, just strangely sad, as if she knew what he was thinking. Why did he care if she wouldn't have had a moment for him back then, there was no back then anymore. This was all that was left and right now, she wanted him. He still felt slightly miserable, no matter what he told himself.

She buttoned up his jeans again. He felt that maybe he should apologize but he wasn't good at that. To his astonishment, she didn't tell him to leave or flick him a patronizing look. In fact she looked genuinely concerned. He felt deflated. He didn't know why it would affect him so much, the concept that she wouldn't be with him if things were different. He'd always known she was out of his league. Pretty young girls with the kind of education and skills she had, did not go for scruffy dirty old rednecks who did odd jobs for a living.

She threatened to injure him if he didn't tell her what was going on in his head and he had no doubt that she would do just that. So he told her, in blunt sharp statements that he hoped needled her as much as they pricked him.

"If this hadn't happened I probably wouldn't have met you." She agreed honestly, looking at him from beneath her long feathery lashes. "I can't say we'd have still done this." She gestured between them. "But there's the chance we would have." She cocked her head. "You've put me on this pedestal, Dixon. I'm nothing special. In fact I'm quite a long way down on the scale." She dropped her gaze and he could have sworn her cheeks were turning pink. "You're much better than me, really."

His laugh was mirthless and grim and she glowered at him in the same way Carol had taken to doing sometimes. It was a strange expression full of something akin to affection.

"You are a good person, Daryl Dixon." She said sternly, fixing her eyes on him until his protestations died away. "Now, if you're not going to screw me, I think I'll have a nap. My shoulders are hurting like a bitch."

He choked back his laughter and the tense moment between them snapped cleanly in two. He had to admit, he quite liked how brief her girly emotional moments were. She'd settled onto her back, her shoulder resting on the wet t-shirt. Seeing her long legs coiled under her and the smooth expanse of her navel exposed under the short vest, he felt himself stir. She gave him the beady eye.

"No."

He sighed and lumbered out of the tent.

Dalonega Noquisi – thanks I'm glad

SaraLostInes – I don't think Daryl really does talking about relationships lol every time I watch the show I just want to slap Lori and thrust Rick at someone better

LadyLecter47 – I'm going to have to do my best to avoid spoilers during that week, it'll kill me if I find out what happens before I get to see the episode!

VileMalapert – thanks, she might just do that but not yet I'm afraid