Author's Note: Thank you so much to the response to Tempest. I shall be leaving the country on Saturday for a few days so I hoping to get at least one chapter, if not two, uploaded before I go.

This is completely and utterly dedicated to Kelsey, who's three requirements were a Daryl POV, rain and a first kiss. I hope it meets her expectations. If you didn't know, Kelsey is the awesome young lady who makes my story covers, the link to her Tumblr is in my profile.

Fucking rain. It was relentless and all consuming and Daryl had had just about enough of it. It was already getting colder, November, by his guess and now the damned wet was driving every creature in the woods into hiding, making it so much harder to catch a good meal.

And a good meal was something they so desperately needed. They were slowly starving. He had slowly gotten used to the gnawing in his stomach, but it was hard to ignore the fact that he had to hammer another notch onto his belt just to keep his pants up. It was even harder to ignore the hollowed cheeks of other members of the group, sunken eyes and pale skin. They were beginning to look like they had joined the walking dead.

He felt like a failure. He went out as soon as dawn broke and didn't come back until it was dark, enduring as much of the freezing wet air that he possibly could and he's count it as a good day if he came back with three or four squirrels.

There was nothing left worth taking out there. They were staying in another farmhouse, not nearly as comfortable as the Greene place, nor as spacious, but as isolated as they could get, whilst being close to the supplies they needed. But it wasn't isolated enough. The Walkers were slowly heading out into the country and he often came across one before he spotted something to eat. Nowhere was safe anymore.

Not even his own mind. He'd close his eyes at night to visions of drooling, groaning life suckers, devouring his flesh. He wasn't the only one. Even if he did manage to sucuumb to the exhaustion, it wouldn't be long before someone else's tossing and turning would have him up and alert again.

"Daryl, dinner's ready." Carol's thin frame edged into the doorway, thin, spindly fingers clutching the door like it was holding her up. It hurt to look at her, sometimes. Another reminder of something he couldn't do, something as simple as taking care of someone like Carol, a women who asked for nothing, never made anything difficult for him. She was all angles now, collar and hip bones protruding from the edges of her worn shirt, her hair overgrown, dark rings framing her eyes. "Would you prefer me to bring it to you?"

He thought that it was the most he had heard her speak in a few days. She seemed to have no energy for it any more, spoke nothing that did not need to be said. He heard her whisper things to Lori, or find some words of encouragement for Carl or Beth, but that was about it.

"I'll be there in a second." He muttered, rubbing his rag over the tip of an arrow. He tended to keep to himself when he was in the place, sticking to the small study that had become his sleeping area, one that he had to share with Carol.

It had originally been her room alone. There was a small sofa, one that not even she could stretch out properly on but she made do. He'd been sleeping on the floor in the living room, but Hershel and Beth also had to sleep there and how the young girl slept through her father's avalanche-inducing snoring, he'd never know.

It was easy enough to slip into the room one night and make his bed on the floor in front of her sofa. She said nothing, just watching him as he stumbled through a muttered explanation, before he just gave up and dropped to the floor.

She didn't have anything to say the following morning either, when she picked her way over his prone form, just before dawn broke, heading for the kitchen to make him breakfast, like she did every morning. He'd gotten angry about that, at first. He didn't want her to do things like that. And it wasn't just making him breakfast. Any little thing she could do, it would be done. Patching up his clothes, hanging his wet things near the fire. She'd been asking to cut his hair for weeks now.

They were all huddled about in the sitting room when he finally ventured out and his eye went first to Lori, who was settled in the worn armchair by the window. Her baby bump reminded him of a soccer ball now, Carol had told him that she was coming into her third trimester. It protuded grotesquely from her stick-like frame, warping the print on her shirt. Carl sat at her feet, shovelling in his meal of tinned pasta and squirrel meat with alarming hurry.

His plate was waiting for him at his usual spot at the battered dining table, between Carol and Glenn and he'd barely even gotten the first forkful in his mouth before he could feel Rick's eyes watching him.

Daryl gave a tilt of his head, silently asking the other man to speak what was clearly on his mind.

"I want to get inside this prison, tomorrow."

Daryl sighed. Rick had found his new focus just two days before and was determined to make the prison their newest home. Daryl, on the other hand, was not so sure. This wasn't the first time Glenn and Rick has gone out scouting and come back with grand plans only for them to fall at the first hurdle.

"Wanted to get going at first light, you, me, Glenn and T-Dog." Rick nodded to each of the other men.

"Sure." He grunted, pushing another forkful in his mouth. "Whatever."

Rick looked at him uneasily, clearly dissatisfied with his enthusiasm but he chose to studiously ignore him, finishing his meal as quickly as possible.

Despite being the last to begin, he was the first to finish and he scraped back his chair, making his way to the kitchen and dropping his plate on the counter before pushing the back door open and making his way onto the porch.

The rain had eased down to a fine, misty drizzle but the wind had died down completely, leaving the porch roof as suitable protection from the weather. He set down to work at the old picnic table in the corner, moving back to deal with stack of wood he had intended to turn into arrows.

The work was rhythmic, something to pass the time until he'd be pretending to go to sleep and it was easy to zone out, thinking of nothing at all. He could hear the whispered conversation of Lori and Carol in the kitchen, catching the odd few words over the clink of dishes being moved about.

"...a prison, Carol...this just sounds crazy..." Lori's voice floated over the scrap of his knife on wood and the patter of rain on the trees surrounding the porch and he found himself pressing the knife harder into the wood in annoyance.

Carol's voice was quieter, he couldn't hear her response, but her tone was placating.

"I know, I know, but sometimes, I just don't see the point anymore. It's never going to get better, is it?" Lori sounded like she was crying, but then she was always crying these days. The bigger her belly grew, the more tears she shed.

The two women fell silent for a few moments and Daryl slowed down the frenzied pace of his wood shaving, relaxing once more.

"It's just...sometimes I wonder if Rick is gonna get us through this, or if he's just gonna get us killed."

Daryl held back the growl that wanted to break free from the back of his throat. Resisted the temptation of running in there and telling Lori Grimes exactly where she could stick her wondering.

"You know what, Lori?" Carol's voice was clearer now and he gripped the wood tighter as he worked. "Rick's gotten us a lot further than I ever thought he would. Sometimes, you just got to have a little trust and a little more faith."

"Fuck." He muttered. His knife had clean cut through the stick of wood and he tossed it over the side of the porch in annoyance.

He hadn't entirely been expecting that comment from her. If anything, he'd always considered her Rick's most prominent opponent within the group. She never voiced any sort of opinion on things, not since that first night out of the Greene farm, always watching group discussions with a nervous eye.

He'd gotten a dozen arrows fixed up when he decided to call it a day. The noises inside the house had died down and he figured he could cross the building to get to the study without getting ambushed by some other idiot wanting to talk.

There was just one lamp lit in the sitting room and he could hear Beth singing something under her breath as he passed the doorway and he was only three steps from the door to the study when the hand clapped him on the shoulder.

"Daryl." Rick whispered into the dark corridor. "You good for tomorrow?" His voice was uncertain, like he wonderd if Daryl would say no.

"I said it was fine." Daryl responded prickly.

"I want to see if we can get some supplies. More food."

"As ever." Daryl grunted. "I'll be ready at first light."

Rick nodded and let go of his shoulder, turning to his own room.

There was a candle burning in the study, melted to a stump in it's holder. He'd thought Carol would've already settled down to sleep but there she was, sitting at the desk of the study hunched over, close to the candlelight. The door shut softly with a click and she looked up, one corner quirking up into some semblance of a smile.

As he came closer, setting his bow and arrows against the window, he saw what she was doing, sewing up a hole in a pair of pants. A second glance told him that they were his pants.

"Don't gotta do that." He mumbled at her kicking off his boots and settling to the sleeping bag on the floor.

"What else have I got to do? Keeps me busy." She replied, snapping the thread and pulling the jeans out to admire her handiwork.

He let out a breath through his nose and turned away from her, because she had that determination in her voice, one that suggested that was the end of the matter and he had no desire to argue with her, not tonight.

"But, pretty soon, no amount of darning are going to save these things." Carol stood up and folded the pants up, setting them down on the floor by his bag. She stepped over her him to reach the sofa, sitting on the edge to pull of her sneakers and toss them to the side. "You take care tomorrow, you hear?" Her voice had dropped to a soft whisper and he rolled over to look at her.

"It's gonna be fine." He told her firmly, rolling back over. He wouldn't even entertain the idea of not coming back, even though every time they did leave the safety of the farmhouse it was a very real possibility.

"Daryl." He heard the blankets rustle and her fingers curled over his shoulder and he couldn't help but freeze under her touch. He jerked his head back to look at her and his jaw brushed her fingers. "Just come back, alright?"

"Of course I'm comin' back." He growled lowly, prising her fingers off his shirt. He gave them a squeeze before dropping them and she snatched her hand back, cradling it against her chest.

He rolled over again onto his back and looked at her as she closed her eyes and tried to settle into slumber.

What was all this crap about coming back? She'd never said it before. He left the farmhouse everyday, gone for sometimes twelve hours and she never told him to come back. Asked him to come back. Like he was considering his options.

He'd never considered his options. He wasn't an idiot, he knew physically, he'd cope better on his own. More to eat, safer places to hole up. Less likely to attract the attention of the dead. He knew these people needed him more than he needed them. But as much as he would never admit it, he needed them a little bit too. He figured one man flying solo would lose his shit eventually. And as far people went, they weren't an awful bunch. The old man pissed him off sometimes, Lori was getting a little whinier the further she got into her pregnancy, but he figured that was expected and allowed. The kid could be a nusiance, but spending most of the day in the wet forests tended to solve that problem for him.

"Hey." He lifted his hand up and nudged Carol on the arm. Or at least he hoped it was her arm, he couldn't tell when she had the blanket pulled up over her chest. Her eyes shot open and she shifted to look at him expectantly. "I ain't goin' nowhere, alright?"

"We hold you back." She told him. "Me, Lori...the kids. We keep you down." The words were laced with self-loathing and he found himself torn between wanting to smack the feeling out of her and wanting to pull her close. That was something he would barely admit to himself. Wanting her close. Wanting to kiss her. It had seemingly come from nowhere, although it was more likely that it had been such a slowburning emotion that it had crept up on him.

"If I didn't wanna be here, I wouldn't be." He told her. "I ain't in the habit of doin' what other people think I should be doin'. I'm goin' out tomorrow and I'm comin' back. That's that."

Her lips curved into a soft smile. Finally she nodded. "Okay."

When he woke up, the sofa was empty, Carol's blankets folded neatly over one arm. It was still dark, although light was just about breaking through the sky.

As he approached the kitchen, the scent of coffee hit his nostrils and sure enough, when he swung the door open, a big pot of the stuff sat at the kitchen table. Rick was already there, thumbing through a map and Carol had her back to him, fixing up something or other.

"Mornin'." Rick greeted him. "So, this is the route I think would be easiest." He pointed out the relevant road on the map and Daryl nodded his approval.

Less than a moment later, Glenn and T-Dog came tumbling in, wiping hands over tired eyes.

"Let's get outta here." Daryl pushed off the table, scraping the chair back and heading for the door. He tried not to look at Carol and he heard her pass the backpack of food on to Glenn.

"Should keep you going until tomorrow, if you get waylaid." She told the younger man with a small smile.

"We'll be back by dark, if all goes well." Rick told her as they marched out the door single file.

It was still fucking raining. Heavier now, beating a heavy rhythm on the windshield of the car. Rick drove and Daryl jumped in the passenger seat. As the car reversed down the dirt track, the tyres squealing a little in the waterlogged mud and grass and Daryl watched Carol watch them go, arms folded as she looked out from the porch.

The prison was the clusterfuck he expected it to be. Rammed full of Walkers, it would be a nightmare to clear out. But it could be done. It would take time and a hell of an effort, but when it was complete, it would be a fortress. The supplies would plentiful. Food, medicine, weapons, there would be enough for their small group for months.

It was worth it, he had decided. Definitely worth it. They weren't going to be able to carry on the way they were much longer. But he hoped that this discovery meant their luck was changing. It certainly felt like it. Especially when after scouting out the entire area around the prison they stumbled upon the grocery truck.

It had taken a little while to prise open the door at the back, the weather had rusted a lot of the parts, but brute force finally got it free. It was worth it. Piled to the top with crates of everything they could ever want, not even Daryl could resist letting out a whoop of joy when they saw it all.

It took a little bit more scavenging to get the gas to drive it back to the farmhouse, it was so full that the goods would never fit in the truck. But clearly good luck came in threes, because whilst Glenn was siphoning gas from an abandoned jeep, Daryl popped the trunk to find four suitcases tightly packed in space.

He'd long gotten over the uneasiness that came with rifling through other people's belongings, unzipping the cases to quickly rifle through the clothes to see what could be of use. He threw aside the clothes from the summer, sundresses and sandals, shorts and swimsuits - although he wondered who the fuck thought about bringing their bikini when civilisation was coming to an end. There were a couple of pairs of women's pants, a jean jacket, some shirts, all of which he tossed inside the suitcase of men's clothing.

Just as he made to yank the suitcase from the trunk to toss into their truck, something shiny caught his eye. Tucked right underneath them all, lay a Bowie knife, the blade half pulled free from it's sheath.

It was a custom purchase, probably for a woman, he'd guessed, owing to the floral style etchings on the handle. No wonder the owner had bit it, if they were dumb enough to leave a perfectly good weapon out of reach in the trunk.

Everyone who could use a knife, had one, but he figured there was always room for one more. But then he remembered what Carol had said, about her holding him back. She wasn't wrong, of course she wasn't. He was made for this world. She was not. But he chose to run with this group, so that meant picking up those that fell behind. Especially Carol. He was learning that looking after those who needed it was a part of caring about people.

In her own little way, she did the same for him. Killing Walkers and squirrels was what he knew, just like sewing and cooking was what she knew.

But he could help her not be quite the burden that she was. That she felt she was. He tucked the knife into the inside pocket of his vest, he knew exactly what he was going to do with it.

It was almost dark by the time they'd gotten back on the road and headed back to the farmhouse. It was still fucking raining, but knowing that for the first time in weeks, he wouldn't have to go out in it and hunt, not tomorrow at least, it was a good feeling.

There was a little light in the farmhouse, figures standing by the windows, looking a little eerie as they pulled up. They came bolting away as the two trucks pulled up, the door wrenched open a moment later.

Maggie was the first to set foot on the porch, paying no heed to the wet as she set upon Glenn, planting a kiss firmly on his lips.

"What the hell is all this?" She asked, once she finally released her grip on him, hammering on the side of the grocery truck.

"Dinner." T-Dog replied, throwing the door open.

Maggie gave a little gasp and leaned inside. "Did you actually find Cheetos?" She let a laugh, throwing the giant box of Cheetos out and Daryl caught it before it hit the mud.

"Come on, let's get some of it in, before we all drown." Rick said, although he had a smile on his face as he tugged a slab of tins out and carried them up the porch steps.

Pretty soon, the others were all out there too, laughing or gasping when a new box was placed on the steps. He was dragging the suitcases out when he finally got a look at Carol, she stood at the edge of the steps, not flinching even though the rain was hitting her, arms hugged tight around her skinny frame. It was the last thing to go in and everyone else was already inside digging through the boxes like kids at Christmas.

She held her hand outstretched to take the handle of the bag and even though he figured it was too heavy for her, he let her take it and she kept her grip even though her shoulders slumped with it's weight.

She opened the kitchen door and he caught her by the wrist just before she stepped through. "Hey." He cleared his throat and she stopped, letting the case drop to the floor, the door swinging back shut and facing him, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. "Got you something."

He dropped his own case and hunted through his pockets and drew out the knife, clad in it's brown and tan leather sheath.

"So you ain't holdin' yourself back." He explained, pushing it into her hands.

Carol looked at it in awe, pulling it out slowly and running a finger over a side of the gleaming blade. Her fingers traced out the patterns out on the handle and she swallowed thickly before pushing it back inside the sheath slowly.

"I've never - " She started.

"I'll show you. It just takes practice."

She nodded, hands shaking as she tucked the knife into the pocket of her cardigan.

"Thank you, I-" She was cut off when conversation filtered into the kitchen and seconds later Carl pushed the door open, clutching a jar tight in his hand.

"Carol, there's a whole box of Marshmallow Fluff, like, a hundred jars." He thrust the white jar in her face before quickly unscrewing the cap and dipping a grimy finger in.

"Oh no, no, no." She exclaimed, snatching it away from him. "You can eat it properly, on crackers or something. I think your mother and I will quite agree you do not need a sugar overdose this late in the day."

Carl pouted and sighed, letting her ruffle his hair for a moment before handing the lid to her and returning back inside.

Daryl eyed the jar with interest and Carol laughed at him.

"Same goes for you." She murmured, picking the suitcase up and going back inside.

He decided to let the others explain the outcome of their day, sitting in the corner with bowl of macaroni cheese and a bag of Cheetos, sipping on a can of soda that mercifully hadn't gone bad, despite standing in a metal box throughout the Georgian summer.

There was plenty to be had, especially on this first night, but he couldn't finish it all, he figured his stomach had shrunk in recent weeks and he didn't feel like forcing it down and making himself ill, like he was pretty sure T-Dog, Glenn and Carl would be, after seeing them wolf down their triple sized portions in three minutes flat.

So he went to bed first, piling up his layers in the middle of the room, just because he knew he didn't have to worry about them drying out before morning. He was just dozing off when Carol came in, shutting the door so softly, he barely heard it, setting her candle down on the desk.

He was just aware of her crouching beside him, pulling his damp clothes off the floor, stepping over his feet to hang them over the radiator.

"I'll do it in the mornin'." He grumbled sleepily, looking over at her with half-opened eyes.

"I got it." She whispered, lining his boots against the wall before neatly adding her shoes next to his.

He watched her as she ghosted over to the desk, pulling the knife from her pocket and running her hand over the hilt delicately, before setting it down. She peeled away her cardigan and the sweater underneath, unbuttoning her plaid shirt, leaving her just in her camisole. He looked away then. He hoped this truck would bring enough meals to soften up the sharpness of the bones across her shoulders, the blades rippling lithely as she reached for her other shirt. Her pants hung low on her hips, threatening to slid down entirely at any moment.

His eyes were still shut when she loomed over him, her figure shadowing the light from the candle and she dropped down, crouching beside his shoulder.

"For you." She said and he heard something get set on the floor next to his pillow. He opened his eyes as her fingers pulled away from the object, a large white jar. Marshmallow fluff.

Daryl pulled his arm free from the blanket to pick it up, spinning in round in his palm.

"Just don't go getting a crazy sugar high, I don't know if I could handle it at this time of night." She smiled down at him and he dropped the jar, before he knew it, he reached out and took her by the wrist, stopping her from standing.

There it was again, that overwhelming desire to kiss her. As he realised it himself, he saw her features change, her smile freezing, eyes growing large and he wasn't sure, but he thought he heard her breath hitch a little. He wasn't good at reading these kind of emotions, but the way her arm relaxed under his fingers made him think that she wouldn't entirely mind if he did kiss her.

He had just decided to just go ahead and do it, lifting his head from the pillow and leaning up to her, not more than a few inches from her face, her eyelids were fluttering, lips slightly parted in anticipation and he clutched her wrist tighter. Then there was a knock on the door.

They sighed at precisely the same second, his fingers flexing around her skin before letting her go.

Carol cleared her throat as she stood up, smoothing her shirt down as though she could smooth away the evidence of what he had almost done, before cracking open the door.

He threw and arm over his eyes as he slumped back down, hearing Lori's hushed tones and Carol's murmured thanks before the door clicked shut again.

"Clothes." She explained, setting the pile in her arms down.

She didn't go back to him again and he was glad. The moment had passed, the courage had left him. She settled down on her sofa and made her goodnights, leaning over and snuffing out the candle.

Despite telling himself that hunting was off the agenda for the next morning, he woke at dawn. He wasn't the only one who couldn't break habit, the sofa was empty.

He let himself lie there a moment, savouring the feeling of absolutely nothing before cracking his limbs to life before standing up and pulling his boots on.

She was making porridge when he made it into the kitchen, the smell mixing with the aroma of coffee and it made his stomach rumble.

"Morning." She murmured to him, barely turning to look at him as he surveyed the mess on the kitchen table. There were dozens of cardboard boxes haphazardly stacked up and he decided before he did anything, he'd put them back in the grocery truck, out of the way until they used them for the fireplace.

He gathered up as many as he could, pushing through the porch door and rushing into the rain. He thought he heard Carol call his name but he pushed on, wrenching the door to the truck open and throwing the boxes in.

"Where are you going?" He jumped when he looked behind the door to see Carol there, clutching her cardigan around her midriff, shivering in the cold rain. "Take today off, just this once." She reached out, sleeve scrunched in her fist and brushed his shoulder.

"Are you crazy? Get back inside." He tried to sound angry at her, because there was no need for her to come out and get soaked but he couldn't he couldn't muster up anything close.

"You too." She insisted, fingers pressing into his skin. She had those wide eyes again, looking him at him under her rain-coated lashes.

"Yeah." He sighed. He reached a hand up, clutching her fingers in his. The heated emotion in his stomach pooled again and she just looked up at him, despite the pouring rain, soaking through every layer on her body.

He was pretty sure they were being entirely ridiculous, standing there, staring at each other in the rain and so he decided that he had to make it worthwhile. He took a step towards her, toes bumping hers and this time, he definitely heard her breath hitch in her throat.

His free hand came to her check, brushing away, the droplets of water that landed there, immediately replaced by more.

Her hand reached for the front of his vest and it was her that made the final leap, scrunching the leather and using it to tug draw herself closer, leaning upwards and pressing her parted lips on his, leaning herself on him.

Her lips were soft and he could tell she hard already had her morning coffee, she tasted bitter and sweet at the same time, her tongue hot and wet as he pushed his inside her mouth, exploring her softly.

He released her fingers, bring his arm around her back to hold her closer and she mewled into his mouth, her own hand coming to his face and pushing his sodden hair from his cheeks.

He let her pull away for a second, allowing her to catch her breath, before leaning back into her and catching her lips again, firmer this time and he could tell she was surprised.

"Carol!" The voice was muffled by the rain but they sprung apart instantly, although Daryl refused to look guilty about it.

"The porridge!" Carol squeaked the realistion and she tugged at his wrist as she hurried back to the kitchen, almost slipping in the mud, Daryl only just managed to catch her before she hit the floor.

"What's going on?" Lori frowned at two of them, dripping onto the linoleum floor.

"Got caught in the rain." Carol shrugged and he saw her blush, turning her head down as she went back to the stove, sneakers squelching as she walked.

Lori looked at them both suspiciously, eyes flitting from one to the other.

"Go get dried off, I'll take over." She nudged Carol away from the hob and he followed her silently, trying not to feel like a chastised schoolboy.

Still, as they pulled on dry clothes silently it was hard to keep the smirk from creeping onto his face, especially when he caught her eye and she gave him a shy smile in return.

"Maybe tomorrow, I'll show you how to use this." His fingers touched the knife on the desk lightly.

"Even if it's raining?" She asked, coming closer and resting her own fingers on the hilt.

"Even so."

She gave him a broad smile and the heat in his stomach fired up again.

"I think we work better in the wet." She quipped, brushing his arm as she walked past him for the door.

Daryl quite agreed.