Notes:

4 am ramblings. I will likely add other moments in chapters as I write them. Each will likely be a stand alone. As always, my work remains unbetaed.

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It grew between the cracks in their souls. Like the tiny fragile plants that emerge between the broken pieces of pavement on long neglected sidewalks. Neither consciously watered nor plucked away, it was left to flourish until it had taken root and became something that could stand on it's own. It was not planned for, but it was not unwelcome. Tiny flowers blooming, so small that you'd only see if you were to pay close attention. Easily trampled by those who didn't know better, easily scorned by those that did not know the beauty of the things that exist in the broken spaces.

Nobody ever had any doubt that either of them were broken. They wore it on their skin, wrapped around them tight, constricting the way they moved in the world. And yet they were nothing alike to the naked eye.

Cynical meets hopeful, anger meets understanding. It was only a matter of time before they were drawn to one another. Like magnets, their scarred pasts were drawn together. It wasn't about support or love or saving anyone. Neither was sure it what it was about, only that for the first time in a long time, the silence wasn't deafening.

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Carol watched him from where she sat at the tiny fire. It wasn't warm enough, but she felt warmed through when he'd glance her way. Daryl never joined them after that first night. Secretly another shame for her. She'd acted like Rick was as unstable as Shane, tried to plant the seed of doubt in his head. She wasn't sure what made her think he might stand up and take control or perhaps break away and take her with him. But he was right, Rick was doing right by them all. But she was sure that he didn't even notice how key he was in that. He'd quickly become the man whom their leader turned to. Men of honor, the both of them. She was glad she'd stayed.

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It wasn't until two weeks after it started that she realized what he was doing. The knife left with her things was one of his, she'd seen him use it once. He was never careless, the fact that it was there was deliberate. When she thanked him he shrugged and told her, "Yer gonna need it. Can't save yer ass every time." She smiled and tested it's weight. It was something she would learn with. She had no idea just how quickly that knowledge would be gleaned.

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Tired and sore, covered in filth, she'd collapsed on the ground to catch her breath. The house had been a bad idea, but they couldn't survive on his skill alone. She wiped her brow with the tattered edge of her sweater. When his hand reached out to help her back up she was shocked at his nod of approval. She'd only taken down the one walker, but it was the first. "Did good," he said as he pulled her to her feet. Before she could respond he'd let go of her hand and moved to retrieve an arrow from a body.

That night they shared another smile across the campsite they'd made. It was a drop of water, but like most, it would not remain alone. Other's followed, and the water gathered to coax life into the empty spaces.