Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews on Fix. This is my next multi-chapter fiction!

TWDTWDTWD

Carol could not decide whether or not she loved thunderstorms. Back before the world went to hell, she loved them. There was nothing more relaxing than being snuggled under the covers, listening to the low rumble of thunder rolling across the heavens and the patter of rain against the glass. Now however, thunderstorms were unbearable.

Without warning, the sky turned black, fat raindrops hitting their heads as they sat around the campfire one evening and within a moment, they were all soaked to their skins. Three days later, it lingered still. Sometimes it were only a fine misty drizzle, the kind that chilled you straight to the bones, other times, it were just like being in the middle of a tsunami.

Every last member of the group was miserable. Every day there seemed to be someone crying or throwing a tantrum about something or other. The former was usually Beth or Lori, the latter Daryl or Maggie. Carol was sick and tired of having to placate or comfort them. She wished they'd all just grow up. The group was just like the weather, temperamental yet relentless. It felt like there was no hope for them anymore.

Rick was becoming more and more crotchety with every passing day, barking orders at all of them and Lord help you if you didn't do what he wanted fast enough. He listened to no-one, not even about the most trivial things. Except for Daryl. Whatever he said was golden. It was frustrating to say the least, if only because Daryl had absolutely no desire to become the sheriff's second in command.

She had given up trying to talk to either of them. That first night out of the Greene farm, she had spoken out and angered them both and it was all for nothing. Sometimes she wished she had the courage to walk away. Sometimes, albeit less frequently, she wished for the courage to "opt out". The thought didn't seem as crazy as it should've been.

Every evening they set out the tents. The cars were crammed full of bodies and supplies and were not the best to sleep in. But putting out the tents meant getting soaked to the skin and Carol never seemed to get dry once that happened. Sleeping in a tent, alone, during a thunderstorm was not much fun.

It hadn't always been a case of sleeping alone. There weren't that many tents in the beginning and they had to share. Her's was only a small pop up that could barely fit two, but Daryl had crawled in after his night watch on more than one occasion. She was perfectly happy with the arrangement, even though they barely spoke to each other anymore. But then she ruined it. Somehow, she had ended up curled around him one night and she didn't know how long for. When she woke up that morning, head tucked under his neck, arms wrapped around his waist, she had tried to untangle herself as quietly as possible. It didn't work. He never said a word about it, but he never came back.

Finally, Daryl told Rick they had to find more suitable shelter, at least until the weather turned drier. It took another wet and miserable night, but then Daryl found the barn.

It wasn't entirely dry, slightly crumbling, it would not protect them if a herd of Walkers knew they were in there, but when the tents were pitched inside the hay barn, it were almost like being inside a house. It shielded them from view and from the howling gales and that was enough for now.

Carol had very little in the way of clothes. She had what was on her back, one extra shirt and one pair of pants. Three pairs of socks. Four pairs of panties. A sweater that was scavenged from the boot of someone's abandoned car. It was far too big and wasn't waterproof but it was the best she had. It was all sopping wet. Every last item. It was depressing to say the least.

So when they all retired to bed that night, she hung a makeshift line in her tent, attempting to dry things out as best she could before settling to sleep. Her teeth chattered from the cold and eventually she decided there was nothing else for it, she would have to strip out of her wet things and sleep naked inside the sleeping bag. She only hoped that this night would not be the night that a herd came ploughing through.

As she settled herself down, she could hear Daryl pacing back and forth in the barn. Despite the shelter, he could not rest, especially when it was his turn to watch. She heard him climb the ladder to the rafters and back down again, the click of the crossbow or the gun. Still she must have gotten to sleep eventually, because she was startled awake by the crinkle of the zip on her tent opening.

She sat up with a start, hand going immediately to the nearest item of clothing, still damp in her palm and then she realised it was him. There was no urgency in his pace. He ducked under the makeshift wash line, ignoring her entirely as he slid beside her, not even bothering to tug off his boots or find a blanket.

Carol hoped it was dark enough so that he would not spot her bare skin as she slid back into the sleeping bag, dropping the shirt. He seemed intent on avoiding her gaze anyway, his arms folded above his head, eyes fixed on the roof of the tent. She wondered why he chose to come to her tonight, of all nights. It was as if he knew that it was the one night she wanted to be alone.

Still, it would be futile to ask the question. He was never one for talking. The wind continued to howl outside, rattling some of the wood panelling of the barn. Every so often there would a louder bang and Carol couldn't help but jump. She was so tired of being frightened of every damn thing all the time.

She turned on her side, away from Daryl, burying her head in sleeping bag to try and block out the noise a little. It was largely unsuccessful.

"It ain't nothin' but wind, no Walkers or nothin' out there." Daryl whispered the words into the darkness. The first ones for several days. He sounded a little impatient and Carol let herself sigh.

"I know, I know." She murmured back.

"Then stop jumpin' all the damn time." He grumbled, shifting slightly, his shoulder bumped up against her back and they both flinched at the contact, shuffling the inch apart, the most they could get in the tiny tent.

Carol bit her tongue, physically holding back the retort that was bursting to come out. She didn't ask him to come in to her tent. She didn't want his company, not if it were filled with barbs and cold shoulders. She closed her eyes and tried to pretend that she was somewhere else. Anywhere else. Perhaps on a warm beach, Sophia playing in the waves. Or back in Arizona, the state where she went to college. Or, Miami, where she spent spring break one year with her girlfriends. Anywhere but the leaky barn, freezing her butt off in a damp sleeping bag.

TWDTWDTWD

Avoiding Carol was both painful and a relief. She kept looking at him with reproachful eyes and sometimes it made him feel guilt as fuck and other times it made him want to scream in her face. Sleeping in the tent with her was not a decision he made consciously, just one that seemed to happen. It wasn't like there was much choice.

It was alright, until he woke up in the middle of the night with her just about all over him. She had her head buried in his shirt, her hands clutching at him in a grip so tight he thought she would leave little marks where her nails dug in. She was in a grip of a nightmare of some sort, her breath was ragged and shallow and her legs twitched against his.

His instinct was to pull away, get the hell out of there, but it was pouring with rain and it just seemed cruel to do it to her. She whimpered in her sleep and he figured he'd just leave her there til her grip slackened and he could roll a little further away from her. Except it didn't go quite go to plan. He didn't mean to fall back to sleep but she was just so damn warm and it was kind of nice, having her next to him.

But she woke up before him and she was clearly feeling as awkward as he did about it all. He didn't know what to say, so he said nothing and he didn't go back in that tent. So why he went back there the night they found the barn, he didn't know. Clearly he was going fucking soft. He'd been spending way too long with this group.

It was only when he lay down next to her and bumped his arm against her back that he realised she was naked. What the fuck was she thinking? Any minute they could have to pick up and run and she was laying there, as naked as the day she was born.

He wanted to tell her exactly that, but then he considered where that conversation could lead and it was just a whole can of worms that he didn't want to open. And besides, every conversation that they had these days ended in an argument. There were bigger things to worry about.

She trembled all night. From cold or from fear, he couldn't tell. He tried to ignore it, but it was pretty hard when there was about two inches of space between them and he could literally feel her vibrate against him. He considered getting out of there, but Glenn was the one on watch after him and he didn't want to have to deal with the kid's inquisition. Glenn was alright, he never used to think so, but the kid was fine by him, apart from the motor mouth.

He just itched to do something. Tell her off for wearing so little when it was so cold, do something to stop her shaking so bad. He didn't even know what he wanted to do. But he didn't like sitting still.

He slept fitfully. It must have been the third or fourth time that his eyes snapped open and this time it was because there was a warm weight against his side. Carol wasn't trembling as much now, but she'd pulled her arms free from the covers and one was thrown carelessly over his stomach, her head resting on his chest, the other arm curled up under his bicep, fingers pressing into his shoulder.

There was no extricating himself from this without disturbing her. All he could think of was that she was naked and she was pressed right up against him. He might see something she wouldn't want him seeing and if she woke up...well he was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to look her in the eye ever again. So he forced down the discomfort that seemed to have manifested itself with a lump in his throat and closed his eyes, tucking his arms under his head to stop himself accidently touching her. Let her deal with the awkwardness this time, it was her fault, after all.

He woke first, because he always did, but she was still sleeping, cheek pressed against the bottom of his neck, he could feel her hot breath on his flesh as she slept. His hands had moved, entirely unbeknown to him and one of them lay across the back of her bare shoulder, her skin cool under his touch. His hand twitched and he forced his breathing to return to normal. He reminded himself that this was her problem to deal with and he'd be damned if he was going to get embarrassed over it.

He felt her shift slowly, limbs tensing and releasing as she woke herself and then he felt her go still, probably because she realised how she had slept. She pulled herself away slowly and he let his amr go limp and hit the floor as her shoulders came away. He heard the rustle of clothes being hunted out and only when he heard the zip of her boots did he allow his eyes open.

He didn't say a word to her as he sat up, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. Hardly even looked at her, even though he could feel her gazing at him. He unzipped the tent and spotted Rick, sitting on a bale of hay close to the doors, using the light between the slats of the barn to pore over a map.

"I've decided where we should go next." The man told him by way of morning greeting. Daryl sighed. Rick was getting to be hard work. He appreciated the way the former sheriff finally took control of the group, because if everyone looked to him as leader, then he had to damn well act like it. But sometimes, well sometimes it just felt like he'd plain old lost it.

"Yeah?" He sat next to him, following Rick's finger as he traced the route upwards, over 30 miles away from where they were now and he squinted to look at their destination. There were noises of the others now, some of them coming to stand behind him. He thought Carol might be one of them, though he didn't dare to look.

"You wanna go to a fuckin' prison?"