Huge thanks to my beta Confusedrambler :)

After leaving Rose with an overly happy Beth ("You really like it?" was the theme of my breakfast), I walked out of the house and went straight to the group getting ready for another day of searching. The sun was already up and shining, kissing the bare skin on my arms and making me far too warm for my liking. For a second I had half a mind to go back to the house and ask Beth whether she could lend me any shorts, but decided against it after all. It didn't sound like a good idea to uncover any more skin for both the sun and the biters, and I had a feeling Shane wouldn't leave it without comment.

"Good morning, sunshine," the devil himself greeted me with a small smirk, as I approached the group. He seemed to be in a good mood today, so I decided to ignore the mockery.

"Hello," I muttered, focusing my gaze on the map spread on a car's hood. Rick cleared his throat.

"So, as I said, today we have way more manpower. We'd like to cover as much ground as possible, so we will split."

I listened quietly as they agreed on the specifics of the search when the young boy living in the house with Greene's joined us. "Hey, I wanted to help."

"Hershel's okay with that?" Rick eyed him suspiciously, and I couldn't really blame him; the lad looked a bit nervous.

"Yeah. He said I should ask you." He murmured. I couldn't help but smirk slightly. I bet Hershel didn't know the first thing about that and the lie seemed pretty obvious, but Rick nodded his head nonetheless.

"Victoria, you'll go with me and Shane," Rick said, and I nodded, though I couldn't say I was happy about the company of the latter. He seemed to be rather unpleasant, but I wasn't sure if it was his general attitude, or he just didn't like me.

"Come on, don't you think it's a bit excessive to put us in threes?" Shane objected, leaning on the car's hood to move his hand on the map, "If we go in twos, we will be able to cover from here," he pointed his finger on a specific point on the paper, and moved it further, "up to this point."

Rick looked at the map for a second and glanced up, addressing Shane, "With Daryl taking a horse to check yesterday's lead, it leaves me, you, Victoria, Andrea, T-Dog, Dale, and Jimmy. It's seven, so pairs aren't exactly possible."

"Well, but we can go in two pairs and one group of three — it's still one extra group," Shane said, staring at Rick a bit daringly.

I wanted to object, say something about the group going in pairs including Daryl, but flashes from last night's dream and hopeful gaze of Carol, who was standing right next to the man changed my mind. Partially because I couldn't bring myself to look at him and partially — because hell, I can't be more responsible than two cops and a guy, who acts as if he was born in a forest between the animals. So instead, I listened to a conversation about search, chupacabra (yes, seriously) and… me.

"Okay, so two pairs and one group of three," Rick said, eyeing all of us. Before he could add anything else, Shane cut in.

"As a token of goodwill, I'll go with Victoria," he smirked at me, cocking an eyebrow in a slightly playful manner.

Excuse me, did I miss the moment when I started being his charity case?

I glared at him but didn't comment.

"Sounds fine. I'll go with Dale and Jimmy then, which leaves Andrea and T-Dog as our last group.", Rick ordered, folding the map carefully. Andrea handed me a small package with blue pieces of cloth. I muttered a 'thank you' and smiled at her, securing the packet on the belt loop of my jeans.

After that, I found myself standing next to Shane. From the corner of my eye, I noticed Daryl leaving on a horse, and hell, he looked good. Inhaling softly, I decided it wasn't exactly the best time — or person, for that matter — to ogle and I fixed my gaze on the line of trees in front of us.

"Ready to go, partner?" Shane asked with a small smile.

"Yeah," I said quietly, checking once again if I had the clothes and my knife on me, "We can start."

"Off we go, then!", he ordered and moved towards the trees.

Here goes nothing, I guess.

XXX

"Do you even know how to use it?" Shane asked mockingly, staring at the knife tied to my band. I shrugged, sending him a wide grin.

"Yeah, always keep the pointy end far from yourself and try to stab your opponent with it," I answered slyly, knowing he wouldn't appreciate my sense of humor. A humorless bastard, that's who he was. "Got that right, master?"

He muttered something under his breath but decided not to taunt me anymore. Whether it was his way of making amends, or he was just too hot in the Georgia sun shining brightly to argue at the moment — I couldn't tell and honestly, didn't care. After what felt like five or ten minutes, Shane started speaking again.

"You know if I can be honest with you, I'm not sure if it's not a waste of time," he said, tying a piece of cloth to a tree. I had my gaze fixed on the ground in front of me, trying to mimic Daryl's yesterday tracking technique. Which, if I had to be honest, wasn't working the smallest bit; all I saw were rustled leaves and branches as well as some insects and occasional moss. However, Shane surprised me so much, I looked up at him, leaving my ministrations forgotten. I wasn't quite sure if I was more taken aback by his sudden attempt to have a civil conversation after walking around the forest for what felt like an eternity in utter silence, or by his bluntness.

Well, there might have been a third option of my feelings. If he wanted me to be honest, I had to say I had the same feeling; the only difference between us was it was making me sad we can't even find a body to bury it, while Shane seemed to be annoyed by the waste of time.

"Why is that so?", I asked, knowing he wanted me to say something, but then, were there any proper words?

He snorted as we moved down a small elevation of the ground, "She's twelve. It's already been a couple of days. In a world, when walkers weren't there to murder us every step of the way, every policeman knew after 72 hours chances of finding someone alive were slim."

I regarded him carefully. For a short moment, I thought I saw something close to regret in his features, but he quickly schooled his expression into an emotionless mask. I wondered if he was always like this — rid of all emotions and guarded.

"Were you always so cynical?", I asked quietly before I could give it a second thought. I almost winced at how harsh it sounded, but there was no crawling back.

To my great surprise, he didn't get angry or yell or even snap at me. Instead, he tilted his head to the side, as if regarding my question, "You mean, before being — how did you call it, cynical? — became my only option? No, I think I was as fucking far from that as humanly possible."

I almost snorted at his response, "What changed your approach, then?"

"The world. Being a goody two-shoes right now might cost your life," Shane said thoughtfully, tying a piece of material to the next tree.

I remained silent for a moment, carefully thinking about my response. It was pretty obvious this has been the longest, and most civil conversation we've had since we've met, and I didn't want to anger Shane with a poor choice of words. Then, I opened my mouth again, looking at the man. "Don't you think that's a bit too far-reaching generalization? Not every situation means you have to forget about fellow human beings."

He smirked at that, stopping suddenly and looking at me with a bit of amusement, "Are you ready to take the risk if you misjudge the situation?"

He eyed me for a couple of seconds with his hands resting on his hips, as if he was scolding an unbehaving child, and then started walking again, shaking his head in what I guessed was disbelief. I decided it was a rhetorical question, and it was pretty obvious by now, that our views differed and there wasn't much left to say in that matter. Thus, I chose to change the topic as we wandered even further into the forest. "Why me?"

"Because it was either you or Andrea, and she would keep bugging me to give her a gun."

"You could have gone with Rick," I said pointedly and Shane's gaze once again became cold, when he looked at me sideways. I've noticed this tension in him a couple of times and at first, I judged it to be Shane's way of dealing with being the second in command, but I wasn't so sure anymore. I got a feeling it was something bigger than just some ambition issues, but I couldn't guess what.

"Could've, but didn't," he muttered, "Don't make me regret that decision."

XXX

Later that day, we came back to the farm and I couldn't be more relieved — not because of Shane's company, but simply because my legs were throbbing with each step I took. Yesterday's walk with Daryl wasn't any shorter, but he was taking two or three-minute breaks every now and then and today it came to my mind he might have been doing them for my sake, though he didn't make any comments on that. Shane on the other hand kept walking for all those hours and since he was way taller than me and had longer legs, I had to keep a faster pace than him to keep up. I could now feel all those miles in my legs and couldn't wait to sit down for a while. And honestly, I wasn't even aware some of the muscles that ached painfully actually existed in my body.

It appeared we were the first to come back, but soon, Dale and Jimmy joined us and Rick just waved at us in greeting, moving into the house to see Carl. Daryl, T-Dog, and Andrea still weren't there, and I felt a bit nervous about that, but the rest of the group didn't seem too concerned. I walked slowly towards the house, knowing I've probably overused Beth's kindness already by leaving Rose with her for almost a whole day.

As I opened the door, I saw them quickly: the kid was playing on a blanket and Beth was sitting right next to her with a soft smile. I approached them and the girl looked at me questioningly. I shook my head as I kneeled next to them. "No signs, but Daryl, Andrea, and T-Dog are still out."

"Do you think she's okay?" Beth asked me quietly.

"Yeah. Gotta be," I muttered, hoping I sounded more certain about that matter than I felt.

"The dinner's ready, you must be starving." A gentle voice came from behind us, and we moved our heads almost in unison, even Rose curiously about the source of the sound.

Patricia was standing in the doorway with a gentle smile. I smiled back at her, grabbing Rosie into my arms to head to the kitchen with her, "You have no idea!"

We sat down at the table, Patricia offering to hold the little one, and started our meal. Everything was so delicious I had to be really careful to keep eating instead of shoving the food into my mouth. Even though I tried really hard, I still must have been pretty rushed, because both Patricia and Beth were sending me looks and smiles.

"It's really delicious," I said, while placing another portion of mashed potatoes on my fork, "I'm not much of a cook myself, but my mom was amazing. She always told me there had to be some kind of misunderstanding in the hospital because it's impossible I have her genes."

"So good, huh?" Beth said, smiling, "My mom was a pretty good cook, too. I can prepare many meals, but I don't really enjoy it the way she did. Her cooking was like an art."

"Yeah! When entering the kitchen, you got the feeling it's Carla Hall at work!", I chuckled, waving my fork to emphasize my words. Rosie cooed quietly, trying to grab the spoon Patricia used to feed her and Beth nodded to my words, smiling slightly at the baby.

"Exactly that. She was able to change a chicken into a piece of art," Beth said, and I could see tears welling in her eyes. She blinked them away and changed the topic, her voice a bit husky from the unshed tears, "Did you hear Shane will teach your people how to shoot tomorrow?"

"Yeah, he mentioned that when we were in the forest," I said, sighing happily when my stomach finally felt full enough. I sent a grateful smile to Patricia and took my dish to wash it.

"Are you coming?" Beth asked and, not waiting for my response, added excitedly, "We're coming. Dad agreed!"

"Oh, that's cool," I smiled at her excitement while washing my dish, "And no, I think I will take my time to rest a bit. Shane wasn't exactly going easy on either of us today and I don't believe he will tomorrow."

"I can show you something later." Beth offered brightly, and I couldn't help but smile widely at that. I dried my hands with a towel and turned towards the females, leaning against the kitchen cabinet, the grin never leaving my face, making Beth send me a questioning glance.

"You see," I said, crossing my arms over my chest, "I didn't have time to tell you who my father was." I paused to build up tension, "He was a military guy, and contrary to my mom's words about the hospital switching babies, he liked to say I am his flesh and blood because of my accuracy. While I am gifted to burn water in an electric kettle, I am also trained enough to shoot a small object from a decent distance."

Beth snorted quietly, "Then how come you were studying medicine?"

"I wasn't exactly fond of the idea of physical activity forced on me on an everyday basis," I joked, but added in a more serious tone, "And I really like helping people, not shooting them. Besides, dad never actually asked me to go to the military. We just both had quite a lot of fun at shooting ranges, but other than that, I really don't think I would fit in the army drill and I guess he agreed with me because he never suggested joining."

"Is it hard? Being a military kid?"

I shrugged, considering the question for a moment, "No, I don't think so, at least it wasn't for me. He moved to Fort McPherson when I was like 10 and retired three years later. It's not like I had to move around the country a lot when I was a teenager; when I needed the stabilization the most, I had it."

Beth sighed quietly, "I've always had stabilization. I think that's why it's hard for me to truly understand the situation. I was always protected." She stared through the kitchen window at the group eating their meal and shook her head as if to get rid of unwanted thoughts. Then, a small smile appeared back on her lips and she looked at Patricia, "I am trying to adjust, though."

"You're doing great," I said encouragingly, earning myself a sheepish smile. However, as I noticed that almost an hour had passed, I started feeling a bit restless, knowing that three people were still out. I bit my lip in worry and sighed quietly, "I think I'll go out for a while."

I took Rose from Patricia and left the house, promising to come back to help with T-Dog's bandages later. Furthermore, I was pretty anxious to check whether they were back. To my great relief, T-Dog and Andrea were in the camp, though I felt my insides clench when I noticed Daryl still wasn't there. I had half a mind to ask about it, but when I noticed the tension in Carol's eyes, I decided against it.

Taking a few calming breaths, I walked with Rose to the camp. Andrea was now on top of the camper with Dale and the rest of the group was working around the camp, cleaning things or preparing meals. I decided to join Lori, who was doing the laundry.

"Hey," I said with a smile, kneeling with the ever-curious Rosie in my arms. "Can I help you?"

Lori sent me a small smile and rubbed her forehead with the back of her hand. "Just sit with me, I'd love some company."

I nodded, pushing an unruly strand of my hair behind my ear. We remained quiet for a while, and then she asked, "Where were you before? I mean, before the farm?"

"Here and there, honestly. I lived outside of Atlanta with my parents. My sister was living with her boyfriend in the city, but when the whole thing started, she came to us." I stopped for a moment, both to gather my thoughts and accept a blanket, offered by Lori. I've put it next to me and placed Rosie on it, on her tummy. Furthermore, I vaguely remembered from my pediatrics classes that it's important for babies to spend some time in that position. After everything was set and the baby was desperately trying to reach the grass, I sighed and kneeled next to Lori, taking one of the clothes from a pile of laundry. Since my hands were free, I could at least help with the washing. "She came to us, but she was bitten. We didn't know what to make out of it back then, so I cleaned the wound, but-"

More than seeing, I could feel Lori's compassionate look on me. I was grateful she wasn't trying to cheer me up, because frankly — what could she say?

I took another big, steadying breath and continued my story, knowing the faster I would go on, the sooner it would be over. "Well, she turned. She tried to attack me and I had to-", I cleared my throat, my voice becoming husky from emotions, "I had to put her down. When my mom saw it, I thought she would do the same with me. But my dad- he knew better. He told us to pack and move."

"And how did you get out of the city before the attack?"

"We went to Fort McPherson, because that's where my dad used to work, and he said it's the only place we will be safe. We stayed there until they evacuated us. Before napalm."

Lori didn't push me, but I knew she was waiting for more. Absentmindedly, I moved Rose back to the middle part of the blanket, as she managed to half-crawl, half-roll to the edge of it, and she was trying to stuff some grass into her mouth. "When we were leaving, things went crazy. We were attacked by a huge group of biters and got separated. I really do want to believe they survived, my dad is one tough guy, but I don't know for sure." The last part was almost a whisper, as I desperately tried not to start crying in front of everyone. I felt a soft hand touching my arm and I smiled at Lori. Quickly wiping a few tears that left my eyes from my cheeks, I cleared my throat yet again and changed the subject, "And you? Where have you been when all hell broke loose?"

"At a camp just outside of Atlanta," she said, going back to scrubbing the clothes, "We've been there for a couple of weeks, but we were attacked by a group of walkers. They started wandering outside the city, and it wasn't safe anymore, so we decided to go to the CDC."

"Was it there?"

She gave me a weird look, which made me chuckle a bit, "Sorry. I mean, places where potentially contagious samples are being held have strict protocols when it comes to the threat of pathogens getting out. Usually, they are just destroyed."

Lori nodded slowly, "That's more or less what happened. We got there and there was one scientist, but it appeared the place was running on fumes and when all the fuel was gone, it just-", she stopped, seemingly looking for the right words.

"Poof?" I offered a small smile. Perhaps I shouldn't find it so funny, but I couldn't help myself. Besides, they were okay, right?

"Something like that," Lori muttered and stood up, taking a few shirts we managed to clean to hang them on a string. She cast a measured glance and asked casually, "What was your specialty? I'm not sure if you ever told me."

"I studied to be a surgeon."

"But-", she started and stopped suddenly as if wondering if she should ask at all. After a couple of seconds, she started again, "But you learn a little of everything, right? Pediatrics, gynecology and all?"

"Well, yeah, but just the basics."

She opened her mouth to say something, but our conversation was interrupted by loud shouting. We both turned to check what it was, and I frowned slightly at the commotion. A couple of figures were running out to someone — or something — moving towards our camp through the field unsteadily. In the meantime, I've heard a heated argument between Dale and Andrea. I grabbed the baby, hugged her tightly to me and stood up, trying to decide what to do. Before I came to any conclusion, a loud gunshot made Rose cry in fear and I started rocking her gently, at the same time moving to the side of the camper with Lori in front of me.

The baby kept wailing in my arms and when we reached Dale and Andrea, I noticed something that didn't match the picture. If someone was shooting, there must have been a threat. But then, why were Shane and Rick kneeling in front of what I've assumed must have been a walker?

Sudden realization hit me and I felt cold even though the sun was shining brightly. I made a step to run towards the guys, but I stopped dead in my tracks. I wouldn't be of any use to them, as I'm not strong enough to carry someone else, but I could be ready here, on the farm. Furthermore, I looked at Lori, who was panting heavily next to me, then at Andrea, who was now moving down from the motor home's roof with a wild look in her eyes, and at last, my eyes fell on Dale, who seemed to be frozen in place, extremely pale. Deciding Lori was my best option, I turned to her and handed her Rosie rather roughly. She took the baby in her arms and focused her gaze on me, nodding. Whether she wanted to assure me or herself, I didn't know and didn't have time to wonder, as the guys were moving rapidly towards the house with someone hanging limply between them.

"Tell them to go to the house," I said to no one in particular and rushed towards the building myself. I opened the door so forcefully it hit the wall and I earned myself a startled look from Patricia and Maggie. "Do you have any free rooms left?"

Maggie shook her head slowly. "Carl sleeps in one, and you took the other. Was that a shot we heard?"

"Yeah, it was. Okay," I murmured, breathing slowly. I knew keeping myself calm was the key to success in this situation. "Patricia, could you please get the bed in my room ready? And please bring all the medical supplies you have."

The female nodded and hurried away as Maggie glanced at me worriedly. I tried to send her a reassuring smile, though I think it must have looked more like some sort of grimace. "Where's your dad?"

"In his room. Do you want me to get him?" She asked. I nodded.

"Tell him there has been an accident. I think Daryl was shot, though I couldn't exactly see if it was him or one of the other guys, they were too far."

"No need to tell me, I'm here," I've heard a voice behind me. I turned around and nodded at Hershel in a greeting. "Do you want to help me?"

"Yeah," I murmured. The old me would be offended that a vet was asking me, the soon-to-be medical doctor if I want to help him, but today I was just grateful I wouldn't be doing it alone. Hershel nodded at me and the door to the house opened again, a startled Lori running through with the baby, holding the entrance open for Shane and Rick, who were half-carrying half-dragging unconscious Daryl.

I could hear ringing in my ears and I cursed inwardly. My breaths started going in short pants and I felt tears oozing in my eyes.

Not fucking now.

Breathe. Breathing is the key. It's simple. Just breathe, whatever happens, don't forget to breathe slowly. Don't panic.

I focused on a memory of me and my mom on ice cream when I was a kid. She allowed me to get three scoops and made me promise I won't tell Judy, my older sister.

Looking at the solid form of the man, covered in blood and dirt from under my lashes, I felt frozen to the spot. There was a huge wound on his left side and I felt my breathing hitch when I realized he had ripped off whatever was stuck in his body. As I allowed my eyes to wander, still thinking about those goddamn strawberry ice cream, Shane and Rick passed me, the latter elbowing me accidentally on the way. Honestly, I think it was pure luck that he did that, because it helped me snap out of my state. I bit my lower lip forcefully and rushed behind the guys, finding my breathing even again, as they were led by Hershel to the room prepared by Patricia.

"Victoria, are you sure you can do this?", Hershel's voice came to me as if he was behind a curtain and I had to blink a few times to make sure it wasn't some kind of wicked dream.

"Yeah. Yeah," I said in a small voice, trying to regain my composure, "Yeah, I can. Just tell me what to take care of."

"Good," he said, sending me a warm look, and then he glanced at the rest of our group, who were hovering in the door, "Please leave. Just me, Victoria and Patricia stay in the room."

They obediently left, and I forced my legs to move to the bedside. I think they were trembling a little, but when I looked down at my clasped hands, I noticed with relief they were unmoving.

"Patricia, please clean him as good as you can," Hershel said. He looked so calm and collected I almost envied him, "Victoria, please come here. The wound in his side seems to be clear, so you will put stitches on his back and I will do the same on the stomach."

"Alright," I murmured, moving behind Daryl's back. I noticed huge scars there, ones that looked slightly stretched, which told me they were old ones, probably made when he was a teenager. If the circumstances were different, I think I might have felt sorry for him, but right now I merely noticed the presence of the marks.

I took the needle from Hershel's hand, noticing numbly it was a tailor's tool, not the curved surgical model I was used to. Luckily, at least the thread was surgical and already strung by Hershel. I took one more deep breath and started working on the wound.

XXX

Hershel and Patricia were long gone. Some time ago, Rick came in and stood next to the bed awkwardly, as if he expected Daryl to wake up because of his presence. He asked me if I was okay like four times and when I snapped at him I was bloody fine, he just nodded and told me to call him when Daryl wakes up. I was sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall across from the bed, so I could watch his face all the time as if it could bring his consciousness back faster.

The sun went down a couple of hours ago, so it must have been around midnight, at least that was what I've guessed. Rose was already fed and asleep, though it had more to do with Beth's courtesy than my own actions, as I couldn't bring myself to get up from the cold floor, insisting I would watch over him until he woke up.

Daryl's face was mostly peaceful, though he was making small, little pained noises every now and then and at times, his brows creased. Each of those moans made my head snap up, but his eyes remained closed.

I couldn't quite wrap up my head on my reactions. I wasn't supposed to panic. I was trained to perform each and every action and react properly to each event that took place this afternoon and yet, if not for Hershel, I would probably freeze to the floor and stay there - and that was best-case scenario. It wasn't comforting that I did the stitches correctly and that I managed to close the wound in a way that probably would leave a minimal scar. I didn't find any comfort in Hershel's praise that I did well either because I knew better. I should be able to keep my cool and I couldn't do that. It made me question my choices of becoming a doctor and oh boy was it the worst time for that.

I knew I was a valuable addition to the group only because of those med skills I had. Perhaps I was fast, but they had Glenn, who was quick and clever. Maybe I was a good shot, but shit, they had two cops and a guy carrying a fucking crossbow on his back. Could I ever be any match for them? I wasn't sure if I was more disappointed or furious with myself, the very mixture making me restless.

Hugging my knees to my chest, I rested my chin and fixed my unseeing gaze on the man lying in the bed. How he managed to come back with such a wound was something beyond my imagination. It made me feel even smaller and more meaningless with my petty fears.

A quiet grunt snapped me out of my thoughts. For a moment, I was sure it was yet another sound of pain made in the unconscious state, but to my great surprise - and relief - Daryl blinked, opening his eyes with visible effort. Then, his gaze focused on me and when I started getting up, recognition was visible in his eyes. I approached the bed and touched his forehead with my hand. He almost pulled back from my touch, which made me feel even more insecure. I cleared my throat and murmured, "Hey. Do you remember your name?"

He snorted with a slightly pained voice, "I was kicked off a horse, not lobotomized."

And there we were, my uni knowledge kicked painfully on the ass.

"Right," I said, forcing a weak smile. "Okay. And how do you feel?"

"Sore." He murmured and I could see he was schooling his expression not to show me his pain. I took a syringe and a bottle with already mixed morphine. Daryl's eyes widened at the sight, "What's that?"

"Morphine. For the pain," I said, carefully filling the syringe with a proper amount of the liquid. Then, I looked at his face and something I saw there made me ask: "Are you an addict?"

"Is that what you think of me?", he asked blankly, wincing slightly when he tried to adjust in the bed into a sitting position. I was quick to grab him by the arms and yet again, he almost tried to squint from my touch. I slowly removed my hands, holding my palms up for him to see.

"Don't move. You have like twelve stitches. On the back AND on the stomach," I said, trying to hide the sting of a grudge I felt. Then, maybe I've earned this attitude back at the wooden house. "And no, that's not what I think of you. You just seemed panicked when I told you what it is, so I wanted to be sure."

Daryl remained silent for a moment and I thought the conversation was over, so I turned my attention to the drug I was carefully dosing. I had half a mind to put it away, since he didn't seem to trust me enough to give it to him, when I heard his quiet, collected voice, "My brother was."

"Oh," I said in surprise. Not by the fact he had an addict in the family, those things happen in all families and it didn't take a genius to figure out his relatives weren't an exemplary American family having a barbecue every Sunday right after the church. It surprised me that he continued the conversation when I thought he didn't want to talk to me, so I tried to keep it up. "I see. But we'll keep the doses low. And only as long as you want them, okay?"

I looked at him, patiently awaiting an answer. His stormy blue eyes were regarding me carefully and I found myself lost in them. They were utterly beautiful and I could literally stare into them for the rest of the night. It was bad for so many reasons, my mental health being one of them, but I had no strength in me to look away. After what could have been a minute or a whole century of staring at each other, Daryl nodded slowly and I smiled, this time for real. I took the syringe again and made a slow movement to make my intentions of touching him clear, "Can I?"

He nodded again, his eyes not leaving my face in the whole process. I felt my heart fluttering in my chest at the intense attention I received as I carefully gave him the painkiller. To his credit, he didn't even flinch, even though I didn't have much practice in making injections.

I sighed, putting down the medicine and syringe on the table. Then I fixed my gaze on his stomach, pretending to check the stitches, which was a gross exaggeration considering we put them on about 5 hours ago and he slept most of the time, but I couldn't look at him when I asked that question, "Do you want me to call Carol?"

There was a short silence and then, he repeated quietly, "Carol?"

"Well, yeah, I figured you'd want to have someone close in here, now that you are awake."

"And you figured I want to have Carol here?" He asked. I was a fucking fraud, checking perfectly holding seams, but he didn't seem to pay attention to that. When I didn't say anything, he continued almost fervently, "We not close. Am on my own, told ya that already."

"But you gave her flowers," I muttered in confusion, looking up at him only to see his face becoming crimson red.

"Was one flower and I jus' wanted to be nice," Daryl said through clenched teeth. I stared at him in disbelief, fighting the urge to grin wildly. I cleared my throat, not trusting my voice at that point.

"But I still have to call Rick, he wants to talk to you," I said, absentmindedly propping the covers over his body. He hissed at one point and I looked at him, startled, "Did I hurt you?"

Daryl shook his head, but his mouth was just a thin line and I could see droplets of sweat showing on his forehead. I started fussing with the covers again, this time earning myself a groan of pain, "Stop that for fuck sake!"

I moved my hands back, looking at his pained expression with a slight pang of guilt. "Sorry, just wanted to make sure you're comfortable before I go."

"I'm good," he murmured through clenched teeth, his eyes closed.

"I'm really sorry," I murmured again, feeling utterly stupid, "Do you need anything else? Water?"

"No. Jus' go get him."

I nodded my head, taking a small step back from the bed. I turned to leave, but then something came to my mind. "Can I crash in your tent?"

"What?", he opened his eyes and I could see the morphine started working, his gaze unfocused.

"I was sleeping in this room. I know you have spare tents and all, but it's already late and I didn't master the ability to set up a tent in the dark," I said quietly, and then added sheepishly, "Basically, I can barely do that during the day. With an instructor." Daryl stared at me for a short moment as if he was wondering if it's some sort of joke, and then nodded.

"But don' expect luxuries, princess."

I smiled at him - no, actually grinned - and left the room without another word.

The fact that I felt utterly happy at that moment was fucked up in a variety of ways, but I couldn't bring myself to care, as I quietly left the house to inform Rick about Daryl's condition and put myself to sleep.

XXX

Logically, I should be unable to sleep after all the emotions, my mood swings, and many tense hours of waiting. But as soon as I entered Daryl's tent and zipped it behind me, I felt overwhelming tiredness overtaking me. I slowly approached his camp bed and carefully removed the blanket. As I sat down, I looked around. The interior was quite clean; maybe not perfectly clean and I could smell a fragrance that could only be described as worn men's clothes, but they were placed in a faraway corner of the tent, so the smell was faint. Other than that, the small amount of Daryl's belongings was carefully set inside the tent.

I sighed quietly, taking off my shoes and resting on the cot. After a minute of fussing around, I reached for what seemed to be a clean shirt and placed it under my head. Pulling the blanket over myself, I could feel a really nice, masculine smell which reminded me of Daryl. Not perfumes of any sort, I'd be damned if he was using one, but a really nice smell, which was unique for him and I thought sleepily, that I'd remember it for the rest of my life.

The sun was up and shining brightly way too soon for my liking. I groaned slightly, pulling the blanket over my head, trying to catch at least a few more minutes of the much-needed sleep, but once I was awake, I could hear voices around the tent and I knew I wouldn't be able to fall asleep again. I opened my eyes, looking grumpily at the sun shining at me through the tent's material, which was way too bright and happy at this time of the day. Trying to rub off the sleep from my eyes, I swung my legs from the cot, sitting down in one swift movement. When I was about to get up, I heard knocking on the side of the tent - if hitting the material several times can be called knocking at all.

"Come in", I murmured groggily. The zipper moved and smirking Shane looked inside.

"Hello sunshine, just wanted to make sure you're up for another day of searching," he said, his gaze wandering down my body. I followed suit, noticing with embarrassment my henley moved down, exposing my breasts. I propped it, earning myself a low chuckle.

"Yeah," I said, standing up and crossing my arms over my chest defensively, "How much time do I have to get ready?"

"I'd say like half an hour." He said and was about to leave, but turned around. "But if you're too tired to go, you can stay."

I couldn't quite decide whether it was a true concern or if he was just mocking me, but I shook my head nonetheless, "I'm good. Will just catch a quick shower and check on Rose."

"Eat something as well. Don't need you to pass out on me." Shane ordered, leaving the tent.

"So I'm with you again?" I shouted after him, but no response came. I moved my hands over my face trying to wake up fully and left the tent, zipping it behind me carefully. The last thing I need was injured Daryl murdering me for leaving his stuff unsecured.

Any thoughts?