"Daryl?"

Daryl looked up from the bolt he'd been working on to see Carl standing a few feet away, shifting his weight from foot to foot uncomfortably. The kid looked like he was about to burst, about to explode with the urge to say something.

"What?" he asked, eyeing the kid suspiciously.

That look could only mean trouble.

"Can I talk to you?" Carl asked, taking another step closer.

"'Bout what?"

The kid looked around nervously, chewing his bottom lip as he crept in a little closer, "Girls?"

Daryl scoffed, "Girls?"

"Yeah, girls."

Daryl wanted to smack him. All the shit they had to worry about and the kid wanted to sit around and talk about girls? He had to be kidding.

But one look at his grim, serious little face told Daryl he wasn't.

"Why don't you go talk to your dad about it?" he suggested flatly, looking back down at the half-finished bolt in his hands.

"He told me I was too young and that we had bigger fish to fry right now," Carl rolled his eyes. "Whatever that means."

Daryl snorted in reply, earning a death glare from the kid. He didn't know how to tell him that he wasn't really the guy to be talking to here. All he knew about girls, about women, wouldn't fill a pamphlet. Hell, it wouldn't fill one page.

But the kid was always looking at him like he was his big brother or something, always following him around and asking him questions. So he guessed this was, somehow, his responsibility. His duty.

Heaving a sigh, he stabbed the bolt into the ground and brushed the dirt and dust from his hands. Carl just blinked at him, blue eyes pleading under the brim of that stupid hat of Rick's he was always wearing.

"Well, hell, get on with it. I ain't got all day."

The words spilled out of him almost immediately as he scrambled to sit down beside Daryl, "I think I might be in love with her."

Daryl cocked his head and eyed the kid with surprise, "Love, huh?"

Well, hell. He knew even less about love than he knew about women in general.

Carl nodded without hesitation, his cheeks flushing red under Daryl's disbelieving stare, "Yeah."

"Pretty strong word, ain't it?"

The kid's bony shoulders hitched up in a shrug, "I know. I just – I'm not sure."

"Well, what makes you think you love her?"

Daryl followed the kid's gaze as it crept slowly but deliberately across the clearing to where the women sat, working on cooking up what meager rations they had left. His eyes were immediately drawn to her. Same as always.

"I mean, look at her," Carl said, his tone oddly reverent. "She's…she's really pretty."

Daryl was looking. Looking at the smooth, milky white skin and bright blue eyes. The soft pink lips and dark, fluttering lashes. The thin, delicate body that had grown even thinner over the last few months on the run. She was more than pretty. She was beautiful.

"And she's nice. She's really nice, isn't she?"

Daryl nodded automatically. Even as Carl spoke, he watched her scoot closer to a nervous-looking Lori, patting the woman's burgeoning belly and bringing a smile to her pinched face. She had a way of doing that, of making people smile even when they didn't much feel like it.

"And she's strong. Don't you think she is? Dad says you've got to be strong to survive now. I mean, she was really, really sad when all that happened with the…with the walkers in the barn. But look at her now."

Daryl had to agree. She'd managed to come back from something that would have killed most people. Not only that but she'd gotten stronger and was getting stronger still all the time. Anybody could see it.

"And she's really smart. You can tell by some of the stuff she says."

He couldn't deny that. She made him feel like an idiot half the time without meaning to. It wasn't so much book smarts with her, though she probably had that too. It was something else…some look in her eye that made him think she knew something he didn't, something he'd never understand.

"And she makes me feel kind of…kind of, uh…funny. Kind of – well, you know."

Daryl's eyes shot back to Carl who ducked his head, cheeks flaming redder than he'd ever seen them. But then his eyes were drawn back to her and he couldn't deny it...as embarrassing as it was, he understood. He couldn't blame the poor kid but this conversation was not going there. No way in hell.

"Well-well," Carl stuttered, stumbling over his words in his hurry to put the awkwardness behind him, "I read one time that you get a funny feeling when you're in love, like bats in your stomach."

"Bats?"

"Yeah, bats. Butterflies are for girls. Anyway, when I'm around her it feels like I've got bats in my stomach."

He had to admit, the kid had a point. "Bats" was a good way of putting it into words, that weird, squirmy feeling he got in the pit of his stomach whenever she smiled at him or brushed up against him.

"Right. Bats," he heard himself saying, watching her small hands fluttering as she demonstrated something for Lori.

The two of them sat in silence for a moment, watching the women chatter and cook, seemingly unaware that they were being observed.

He was so lost in his own thoughts that Carl's voice startled him, "So, you think it's love?"

Well, damned if it didn't seem like it. Damned if it didn't.

The realization was like a kick in the teeth. It sent him reeling, sent his head spinning and his heart pounding.

He barely noticed as Beth stood up, brushing the dirt from her jeans as she hurried off to get something. And that was all it took to put an end to their conversation. Carl was off like a shot, without another word, seemingly desperate to get just one moment alone with her.

And Daryl was left staring at the beautiful, nice, strong, smart woman that made him ache and gave him bats in his stomach. The woman he hadn't been able to take his eyes off of the whole time Carl had been talking.

Carol was half-way through smiling at something Lori had said when she lifted her eyes and met his across the clearing. He felt something shift, felt something inside him grind to a halt and reverse direction. The bats were going crazy, damn near beating their way right out of his gut like their wings were made of steel.

Her lips parted; her eyes were wide with surprise like she felt it too. And then he couldn't stand it anymore. He tore his eyes away from hers and the moment was shattered. It fell in pieces around him, nothing more than dead leaves scattered by the wind.

His cheeks were burning, scorching hot in the cold autumn air. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her stand and then suddenly he was on his feet. Before she could take a step in his direction, he grabbed up his crossbow and stomped off into the woods.

One confusing, unfathomable conversation was more than enough for one day.