Author's Note: Man I have been slack-a-lackin' on updates and I'm truly sorry. I guess I've just been dealing with a lot of writers block and lack of time to actually sit down and write. I'm hoping that this chapter is liked because it gets into one of our smaller characters head, and gives you a little glimpse of how the Taylor/Daryl story came to be.

Thanks to those who reviewed the last chapter: fabsch1, guests, padme4000, bigtimerushlover101,and mrskaz453.
Also to those that have favorited/subscribed. Every single one of you are sincerely awesome! :)

Disclaimer: I do not own any Walking Dead characters.

CHAPTER TWELVE.
WE USED TO BE FRIENDS.

"What's wrong, Carl?" Shane ruffled the small boys hair in an attempt to make the frown disappear.

"Nothing," he shrugged his shoulders and looked away; he really wasn't in the mood to discuss his grievances at the moment. Although the chance to speak his concerns was pretty tempting.

"You seem upset little man."

"Yeah, a little." He sat down on the side of the bed and repeated his earlier motion, rolling his shoulders up and down.

"Well shoot." Shane peered down at him with concern in his eyes. It worried him that the normally talkative child had been so quiet since they had arrived at the CDC.

"I don't know if I-"

"Hey, there's my two favorite boys!" Lori chirped as she entered the room and shut the door behind her. She plopped herself on the bed and smiled between the two before it flipped downwards when she noticed Carl's downtrodden face.

"What's wrong baby?" She set her hand on his shoulder trying to console him. He shook his head and let his frown fall further.

"I uhm… I don't want to talk about it…" He warily glimpsed at Shane before returning his gaze to his hands that were sitting neatly in his lap.

"Shane," Lori looked over with a sympathetic half-smile, "do you think you could leave for just a sec?"

"Sure, no problem," with that he stood and made a hasty exit. The second the door shut Carl looked directly down at his mother's hand and the new ring that stuck out like a sore thumb.

"You… you aren't wearing the ring dad gave you." He pointed his small finger towards hers that donned the ring Shane had given to her a few days prior.

"What?" She stared at him quizzically.

"That's a different ring! I know it," he furrowed his eyebrows angry with her decision. He wasn't stupid, he may have only been eleven years old but that didn't mean that he was oblivious to everything.

"How do you even-"

"There was a picture hanging above the TV… it was the black and white one, with that close-up of yours hands together. I'm pretty sure it was from your wedding." Lori nodded as he spoke knowing exactly which picture he was referring to. "I looked at it every day before I went to school. It reminded me that even though you guys were fighting a lot that you really loved each other."

"That's beautiful baby," her heart broke at his words. She truly did not know that he had done that or felt that way and now felt awful that she was putting him through this. It really never crossed anyone's mind that Carl had been affected negatively by everything that had happened. Sure everyone knew that he was devastated by the plague, the zombies, the fighting, and the death. But the separation of his parents? Not so much.

"Yeah and you ruined it! Shane gave you that ring, didn't he?" His eyes narrowed as he became more frustrated with his mother trying to brush everything under the rug.

"Yes, but it's very complicated baby."

"So you got rid of daddy's ring?"

"Yes." She grimaced after her brief answer knowing how he was going to react. His eyes dropped to the ground in disappointment and he mumbled a few inaudible words under his breath.

"So if Shane is my other dad than Taylor will be my other mom?" He looked up with a scrutinizing glare.

"What? No. Taylor is just-"

"Why is it different?" Carl abruptly cut her off before she could make an excuse.

"Excuse me?" Lori had no idea where his hostility on the matter was coming from. She knew he was upset but did not expect anger to be mixed in with it.

"Why can Shane be my second dad but Taylor can't be my second mom?" It wasn't that he really wanted it to be that way, he just wanted his mother to admit that she was being biased with the whole situation.

"Because Shane isn't your second dad, he's your step-dad and I don't even know how to explain your father and Taylor." She replied bluntly. Her and Shane's history ran deep compared to her ex-husband and his new 'girlfriend' that did not know each other all that well.

"Whatever. It doesn't even matter… we'll all be dead soon anyway!" Carl ran out the door and slammed it firmly behind him. Lori stared in shock at what she could only fathom was an outburst from all the confusion his parents were causing him. She knew she had to sit down with Rick and have a talk if there was any hope for Carl's sanity.

Daryl sat at the lone table where everyone had previously gathered for dinner. He was by himself with no company other than the shimmering golden bottle of whiskey in front of him. He took a swig and let the familiar hot burn of the liquid slide down his throat. It caused a pleasant sting; it was one that reminded him of the years past when drinking was to drown out of all his problems. As he sat kicking back the drink alone, he realized that this was exactly what he was doing- trying to drink his problems away. This was different though, he couldn't chug enough alcohol in the world to make the dead stop rising, or bring Merle back, or make the protruding thoughts of Taylor with Rick go away. He wouldn't admit any of those feelings out loud though, he would not be labeled a softy.

A distinct figure made their way down the ramp that extended from the living quarters. With a startled look she jumped back which only made him laugh.

"You can come sit, I ain't gonna bite." She hesitantly watched him as he took another gulp and placed the bottle back down on the table gently. Taylor sighed and took the seat next to him being very careful to not make eye contact with him.

"I'm not talking to you."

"It sure sounds like ya are," he chuckled and handed the bottle over to her, holding it mid-air for a few seconds until she begrudgingly took it.

"I've never had this before," she furrowed her eyebrows as she spoke to make sure that he knew that even though she was joining him, she was still very much upset with him. She looked down at the amber-colored bottle and swished it around, examining it closely.

"Just take it sip," she kept her angry pout on and turned slightly to the left before trying the tiniest amount possible.

"That's disgusting," she scrunched her face and quickly handed the bottle back over to him. "Don't you have anything a little more... girl friendly?"

"Vodka?" Daryl stood up from his seat and walked over to a cabinet. When he came back over to the table he had magically produced a dark blue glistening bottle of Skyy Vodka. Taylor skeptically looked it over once and gave him a questioning look.

"Where did you get all of this?"

"I guess someone forgot it... they were in the room I'm stayin' in." She downed a good amount without so much as a flinch as he spoke. He put his hand up to the bottle and tilted it down away from her mouth. "Slow down tiger."

"I can handle my liquor, thank you," she replied curtly at his suggestion that she was a light weight. Technically she was one of the girls that thought they could match up to the boys in their drinking skills but always ended up a hot mess. After a few especially rough times in college she had decided against trying to out drink a guy; however, this particular occasion made her want to up the ante again. It was most likely due to her anger with him and the jealousy that threatened to boil over, but she would never admit it.

"That's what all you women say, next thing ya know you're in the bathroom hugging the porcelain begging me to never let ya drink again."

"I take it that's from experience?" She giggled and took another small sip before kicking her legs up on the empty chair beside her.

"Plenty of experience," he stated flatly trying to not let the thoughts of all the high school parties come back into his minds eye.

An hour later Daryl had nearly polished off his bottle and Taylor was about half way done. She was definitely past the point of being tipsy and Daryl could say he had a little more than a buzz. He knew drinking with her wasn't the best of all ideas being that the more he drank the more of an open book he became, and really the last thing he wanted was anybody to know about his past - including Taylor. There was also the issue of getting a case of 'the emotions' after drinking excessively, another problem with the blonde around.

"It's all crazy isn't it?"

"Whattya mean?" He picked up the bottle and took the last straggling sip left before throwing it in the nearby trash. His eyes fixated on the wet ring that was left on the table after he removed the drink from its previously situated position.

"How all of us somehow survived. Like we were all picked, destiny you know?" She took another shot worthy gulp and turned full circle before meeting his eyes again.

"Destiny? Bullshit."

"You don't think it's weird that you came into the attic seconds before I was going to pull that trigger?" She swallowed hard thinking about the pure coincidence that saved her life.

"Nope," even in his hazy inebriated state he would not be swayed into thinking like that. He was never one to believe in fate, destiny, the world was created from some all-knowing being, 'you were put on this planet for a reason', load of bull. "You didn't tell anyone about that did you?"

"No..." she let her eyes fall away from his as the day flashed before her eyes.

"Rick?" He rose his eyebrows expecting a 'yes' to tumble from her lips. Of course it sent a little jab of jealousy that she confided in Rick now instead of him, but everyone knew Daryl Dixon did not have a jealous bone in his body...

Instead of a vocal answer she merely shook her head from one side to the other.

"How would I just tell that story? Oh yeah did I mention that before I was with this group I was left dying of dehydration and hunger and was just about to kill myself when someone saved me? Oh and he had to beg me not to, and to give him the gun. One more thing, that person begging me not kill myself was Daryl. Yeah... the hard ass that has no compassion or feelings, that one."

"So ya don't tell anyone cause ya think it'll embarrass me?" He snorted and grabbed her drink to take another slug before handing it back with hard eyes. "Or cause yer embarrassed that you were gonna off yourself?"

"NO. I don't want to lead into the conversation of how my FIANCE left me for dead in that godforsaken attic. That he put a gun in my hand and told me that if he didn't come back in a day or two I should just end it. Yeah, because that's not completely humiliating"

"It's not you're fault-" He attempted to cut her off before she went on another tangent but she completely ignored him and continued on.

"I wasn't good enough for him, or for you, as if I need to have more reason to feel like shit and have other people know about it."

"Why do you always gotta bring that up? That wasn't the reason and you know it." His voice hardened as soon as she opened that can of worms again.

"That's what I believe," she whispered once his voice had risen and she could see it was getting to the point of their fight the day they left camp.

"You're a really shitty liar girl," he scoffed and ran a hand over his face in exasperation. He frowned when he saw a single tear roll down her face. "This is the reason it wouldn't have worked. None of that you're not good enough crap. This is what I'm talkin' bout Taylor," he wiped the tear away. "I can't be the kind of guy ya want and we'd both be foolin' ourselves to think otherwise. I ain't the lovey dovey flowers and candy type. To me that's all stupid, faggot type shit and I know to you it means a lot. And ya know I ain't one to sugar coat it or tell ya what ya wanna hear." He did not hold back on his speech feeling like this would be his only chance to finally make her understand what their falling out was truly about. He didn't mince any words either which only made her crestfallen frown grow deeper.

"I don't care, I never did care that you weren't like that."

"You do! You've always been too blinded to see it. You're trynna make compromises to make it happen but ya shouldn't hafta. No one should hafta compromise their wants and needs. Trust me you're the type of girl who wants and needs that stuff. I won't let myself hurt ya like that, you've been through a lot of shit already n I don't plan on makin' it worse."

"I don't know what type of girl I am anymore," she sighed and felt a tightening in her throat that could only mean she was trying her hardest to not cry. Even if she didn't know it she was attempting to restrain tears.

"Ya want me to be Prince Charming just cause I saved ya. Like we're gonna ride off into the sunset together but dammit we ain't."

"But- we could try. I could try and you could-"

"Blondie I could try til the cows come home it ain't gonna make any difference," now he was trying to be as gentle as possible with the situation as he could be, but he knew she was going to be hurt no matter how he went about it. Not to mention he wasn't even aware a sentimental side of him like this existed; it was true that it could have been the booze coursing through his veins but then again no one could be sure. He kissed the top of her head like he had done a handful of times in the past and began to get up to leave. He barely made it a foot away when her voice stopped him.

"Daryl?" He spun slowly on his heels and faced her with a slanted smile on his face from hearing her speak his name, he would again blame the alcohol but it was still debatable As much as he wanted to keep walking and get himself out before it was too late, he found it that it was an almost impossible task.

"Do you remember the one night I was up every hour with night terrors?" He nodded without a word, it was a rough night for them both. "The next morning I woke up and there was a single flower laying on your pillow. It was just a tiny pink flower but it was beautiful..." he smiled at the memory that seemed so distant now, he had went through five walkers and numerous thorn bushes before he found that damn flower. He was semi-stunned that she still remembered it.

"And then a few weeks ago I would not stop 'bitching'," she used air quotes to use the word that Shane had used to describe it, "about craving chocolate and you came back from a town run with Glenn," she smiled to herself replaying the scene in her head. "You handed me a Hershey Bar and told me to stop my whining."

"Yeah I remember 'em both," he tried to follow where she was headed but came up empty-handed. He had no idea what the point of reminding him about some of the silly, insignificant things he'd done in the past was.

"I think you're better at trying than you think, and I really believe that you're a flower and candy type of guy... in your own, Daryl Dixon, kind of way."

He chortled at her comment and briefly bought into what she was saying, but as more tears fell from her eyes at his expense, he knew he would never be able to try enough. Realistically speaking he couldn't change the person he was anyway, whether he really wanted to or not- which was up for argument in its own right.

"Good night Taylor," she stood up at his words and expected that with the whiskey flooding his system she could probably weasel a hug out of him. She got a little more than she expected. His lips pressed against hers in a rash decision that would surely bare consequences in the future. Neither could find it in themselves to pull away though. Daryl willed himself to stop before he created even more devastation within her when he would surely say it was never going to happen again. They locked eyes and the tear rimmed blue eyes that looked back at him had a gravitational pull that forced him back for a second round. Right as their lips were about to make a reunion a voice forced the two to jump slightly and immediately separate.

"Hey you coming to bed?" Rick tottered between the hallway and the entrance to the main room. Taylor looked between the two men and bit her bottom lip as her heart pounded wildly in her chest. She nodded to Daryl and walked over to join the waiting man. He wrapped his arms around her in a hug and leaned down to whisper in her ear. She knew he had been drinking as well, where he got the alcohol was irrelevant, all she knew was that he was feeling frisky and she was feeling like she was in the wrong persons arms. He slipped his arm around her waist and began to tug her down to their now shared bedroom. Taylor turned her head behind her to quickly grab a last longing glance at him. Just seeing the pleading 'I want you to save me' look in her bright blue orbs pulled him back to that day in the attic.

"You okay?" Daryl finished climbing the stairs to the musty attic. He gave the girl a once over and noticed that she appeared to be starving and had a nasty gash on her arm, it was already sewn up but was in desperate need of an antibiotic. His eyes quickly averted to her shaky hand that was holding a gun to her temple.

"Stay back," she warned with her voice cracking in the sheer terror of what was to come.

"Look, just... put the gun down." He brought both of his hands up in a surrender motion to show that he didn't have any weapons. His crossbow was slung across his back in its usual fashion but that was hardly a threat with the position his hands were in.

"Just go away!" She shrieked out, just wanting all the pain and suffering the new hostile world had brought her to be over.

"Gimme the gun," he attempted to coax her out of whatever stupor had encapsulated her. He didn't know what had taken over him, normally he would have just walked out and let whatever was going to happen, happen. This didn't seem right though, although she appeared emaciated and had an infection she could still prosper and live in the world. Their group was rather open to taking survivors and there was no reason why she should be taking an out now, not after he was living proof that there were other survivors.

"No," she lowered it to herself and held it tightly to her chest. He let out an imaginary sigh of relief in his head, at the very least he stopped her from committing the undo-able act.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he whispered attempting to get closer. She scurried backwards until her back was pressed against the wall. Once the gun wasn't at her head all he could focus on were her shocking blue eyes that seemed to bore into him. The look in them was just begging to be saved from everything she had been through, something deep within him made sure he was going to do just that. "Please, just give me the gun."

"Why should I trust you?"

"Because I'm probably the only person you've seen in weeks that doesn't see you as a meal. Please," he had bent down on his knees and held his hand out. She handed it over reluctantly, retreating backwards once he had taken it.

"You're gonna be okay," he tucked the weapon away and held his hand out to her, still unable to tear himself away from those piercing blue eyes.

Once they disappeared into the endless hallway he sat back down onto the chair that he had been occupying. He began to drink the vodka that she didn't finish, he could not shake the feeling of guilt or sadness, and was far too bombarded with thoughts to go to bed. A heavy sigh escaped from him as he glanced back at the empty chair.

"Damn Taylor, what are ya doin' to me?"