He liked to watch her... as creepy as that sounded.

He admitted to himself that he did. It was like an inescapable fact that he may as well embrace. He often found himself gazing at her cheeks in the Georgian nights. They played a canvas for the light that flickered onto them, coming from the burning embers in front of her. Watching her was like a beautifully shot film... it may get weird sometimes, and you may not understand what the hell was happening, but you couldn't turn your head away as it would give you a sense of curiosity.

He couldn't find her eyes, as she would often be looking down at night. To that book.

That book which she drew in endlessly. Sometimes she would drag the pencil along the page in random directions for an hour and she what she got. As they travelled from place to place, she would splatter dirt on certain pages, waters from different rivers, and leaves that fell from the branches that towered above her. She had to see the leaf fall... that was what qualified it to be gently placed in between the now torn and brown papers.

Often, things fell out of it, but she wouldn't care.

There were a lot of things that Daryl really didn't get about her; the way she did certain things; the way she looked at things. It was like she had a totally different eye to the world than other people.

She would be sat, with a thin blanket around her shoulders, cross-legged on the ground amongst the twigs and dead flowers. Every night, just looking at her book. Her fingers tapping across the pages, turning them ever so often.

He had one theory that she had a memory problem, and that book would somehow help her get up to date with some things. But, that theory was squashed when he heard her reciting some words from "Macbeth" that she had memorised. Daryl didn't know the words himself, but he trusted her.

He often thought about the pictures that he saw when he should have been minding his own business. How the short few seconds revealed to him what type of person she was, and what type of people she knew.

But his mind would be dragged back to her... always. Without fail. Like clockwork.

Ever so often, she would reach up to her forehead, wiping away the built up heat with her cold fingertips. Her hand would linger on her lips, tugging at them.

He always noticed those things she did, even if he didn't admit that.

And one of the things he noticed she didn't do... was put flowers in her book.

"Girl's like flowers, don't they?" he would ponder.

Everything on those papers held a grisly colour, but there was nothing blue, purple or pink. The cover was a leather black binding, torn and chipping on both sides. It was on the verge of falling apart.

That was why he was secretly surprised when one day they were walking along a trail, and she picked something up.

Both Merle and Daryl had stopped when they noticed that she was not following. They lowered their weapons, the hunters pausing their exploration for food.

She was knelt down in the grass, dirt covering her knees, placing her palms on the blades of grass trying to tug something from the ground.

"Get yer ass up?" he remembered Merle yelling, but surprisingly, she ignored him and eventually got up from the ground, a small item gently clutched in her hand.

Merle turned and kept tracking whilst Daryl kept his eyes on her.

She took her gaze off the ground, and towards him. He nodded her his way, and she walked over to him. They started walking together.

He didn't ask her what it was, he simply looked and had an idea of what it was.

That night, when she took her usual stance, he took his own. Watching the light dance on her porcelain skin like tiny ballerinas.

Except, he watched intently as she pulled the flower from her pocket, opening to an empty page and pressing it firmly to the paper. It was white and soft. Its stem turned brown from being plucked from the ground.

He watched as her long slender fingers played with the edges of the petal, before closing the book entirely.

Daryl knew what kind of flower that was. It wasn't something you'd really expected from him. He still remembered it from somewhere lost in his mind. He didn't really know where he found out about it... as if he would be looking at a florists magazine.

But he just... knew. But he wouldn't have remembered it if he didn't know so much about the girl he was looking at.

He would have forgotten. But he didn't because the one flower that Marley decided to put in her book was a Cherokee Rose.

And she did what he liked that night. She looked up into the flames, creating reflections in her eyes that could compete with stars.

+

I watched from afar as Rick conversed with Hershel.

The fire in my bones rose up again, and it took everything in me not to just storm over there and yell in Hershel's face about all that we had lost because of being out there. What it made us all do?

And yet, the farm was untouched, like an oasis.

But a certain sense of envy came with knowing all that they hadn't been through.

I would always have that nagging voice in the back of my head, secretly whispering that they did not deserve all that they had. They didn't seem special at all.

I grasped the bark of the tree next to me, my other hand pressing against my black eye, causing pain to radiate a warmness in the side of my face. I closed my eyes as tears sprung to them, lingering on the end of my eyelashes.

When I opened them back up, Rick ended his conversation with Hershel, walking up the steps and back into the house to probably see his son.

That would have been my chance to go over there and talk all the sense I had left in myself into him. To inject some truth.

I nearly jumped out of my skin as a hand pressed something to the side of my arm. I turned to hit or slap the person who did, but it turned out to just be Glenn.

"Special Delivery," he said tiredly. His gaze followed the girl that was walking up the steps to her house. A type of gaze I saw in the movies... if I still remembered movies.

"Thanks, Glenn," I said, stifling a yawn. Then my eyes caught something that might be embarrassing for him.

I watched his eyes watching Maggie, and I put the pieces together. Instead of my initial thought, my second one fit the situation better.

"So," I caught his attention, then I reverted my eyes downwards. "You didn't go for a pee."

His eyes turned wide, looking down to where I was pointing.

His fly was undone.

His hands fumbled with the zipper as he hastily pulled it up, pushing his shirt down over the top of his jeans.

I laughed at him, but he didn't seem to be finding it funny at all. He had a look on his face like I had just insulted him when all I really did was point out the obvious.

"Don't worry Glenn," I laughed, glancing over my shoulder to the girl in question and then back to my friend. "I would too."

His eyes turned wide yet again at my discovery, and he was about to say something to cover it up, but I interrupted him. I put my hand up to his face. "Your secret is safe with me."

I then turned to stand beside him as we looked at Maggie Greene, talking to her father.

"You would?" he asked, confusedly, furrowing his brows.

"Yes," I said firmly.

"So you..."

"Yes."

There was a long pause and I looked to him, seeing his face putting the pieces together.

"And you like-"

"Yes. Both." With that, I left him to gaze at the beautiful girl.

As I walked, the box in my hand let out a rattling sound. I looked down to it, grasping the skin on my neck with my free hand.

I took everything inside of me not to crack open the plastic bottle and take them then and there. But it would be in front of everyone... and they really wouldn't understand.

+

Third Person P.O.V:

Daryl stepped down from the RV, closing the door behind him.

Daryl was nervous, and he didn't like it because he knew exactly who was causing it. And it was the kind of nervous he was not used to.

It wasn't the nervous he would get as a young child when his father came home. When he heard the slamming of the door and the heavy drunken steps walking around the house.

It was the type of nervous he couldn't really explain. It made his shirt pocket feel heavy as he knew what was inside of it.

He knew he shouldn't have yelled at Marley that morning. He didn't want to have to... but no matter how much of a douche it made him sound when he thought about it, it was the only way she would answer truthfully.

He couldn't help but not trust her because he knew how many lies she had told. Lies she had told about herself and about him.

But he figured then that it was a survival mechanism.

Now it was something she could not do.

It was getting darker as he approached the dark blue tent. A fire to the left of it, and a log propped by the furnace.

He expected to see her sitting by the fire, but all he found was black pieces of wood scattered on the burnt ground, small tendrils of grey smoke. Instead, he saw a light being cast inside of the tent, and he could clearly see her shadow.

He lay his crossbow by the log, then approached the door to the tent. He placed his hands together, rubbing them gently together.

He spat out the piece of wheat he was chewing and grabbed the open flap.

He lifted it up and there she was. There she was

There she was.

That was what he always thought when he saw her

There she was.

He wanted to rush up to her and shake her shoulders to demand answers. But he knew he couldn't do that.

Marley looked up from her curled body, laying her head on one of her hands, the other hand tugging the blanket up to her shoulders. Her nose was buried into it, her shoulder poking out, a lock of hair laying on her cheek.

When their gaze met she immediately reverted her eyes downwards and shuffled backwards slightly.

Normally at that time of day, her eyes would be heavy, and she would be ready to sleep. But that night, they were wide awake.

Daryl pulled the object out of his pocket, arguing in his head on whether he should give it to her or not.

He had completely forgotten about trying to get the truth from her about the other night and what happened with Shane. He didn't need her to say it... he knew. Shane had definitely done it, but he just didn't know her thoughts about it.

"Sophia?" she asked quietly, her small raspy voice cutting through the cold air. She raised her head slightly, the lock of hair falling onto her bare shoulder.

"Nah," he mumbled, hardly being easy to hear, but Marley had gotten used to that tone of voice from being around him.

He didn't tell her about the house he found, as he knew that she wold want to go out and follow that lead. She would walk barefoot in the dark, going back to that house.

She laid her head back down, except this time laying on her front, face still looking to him. She pouted her lips in disappointment, huffing out a breath of air.

Daryl rubbed his eye, then lightly tossed the object he had towards her. It landed by her stomach. She sat up fully then, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. She picked up the object.

It looked to Daryl like her lips wanted to smile, but she for some reason was not letting herself. Her eyes betrayed her and lit up at the sight of what he had thrown her.

She ever so gently picked up the flower by its soft petals, bringing it to her nose and breathing in the airy scent.

He watched her intently, still, as he lowered himself to the cot below him.

Her face eventually gave in, and her nose crinkled up adorably and she stuck her tongue between her teeth as she smiled.

He hadn't seen her smile since the CDC, and he hated that she didn't do it often. Her smile was like a rare painting that only certain people in the world had seen once in their lifetime. Sure, she had smiled in front of him before, but it was normally to say she was "fine" when, in fact, he knew she was lying.

But this was genuine. It was real.

And he found himself thinking the same thing he always did; There she was.

He lay back onto the scratchy blanket, looking to the ceiling of the tent, putting an arm to his forehead.

"Did you give one to Carol?" her voice interrupted again.

He only nodded, still looking up the roof.

He heard shuffling, and at the corner of his eye, he could see Marley unravelling herself from the blankets, her naked legs stretching out and standing up.

She didn't mind him seeing her like that. She usually slept with very minimal clothing, so she could snuggle up to the blankets and warm herself up that way. She wore some grey fabric short and a large button up shirt, that would reach mid thigh.

He watched her confusedly as she stepped out of the tent.

Daryl was surprised to even find her awake when he got back, and then she was going outside into the dark. She was acting very un-Marley like that evening.

Marley placed her bare legs on the grass, and they became cold. What she wanted.

She lay her back onto the ground, making her hair fan out above her into a whirlwind of red. Her hands became folded on her stomach as she looked up to the sky, the Cherokee rose becoming safe in-between her fingers.

It was still on her mind that she wanted to just die; that being a blunt way to put it. But it wasn't like she wanted to take Daryl's gun and stick it between her teeth. It was more of an accepting that she didn't care if she did.

If someone asked her to for the sake of gain, she would do it.

That was why she needed the pills. She had them before, and she knew they didn't really work for her, but she needed a sense that her thoughts were something that could be cured. But they couldn't, because they were her thoughts.

Taking that type of medicine during the end of the world wasn't really advised, and she knew the consequences if she stopped getting them.

The withdrawal was not the most pleasant thing, and last time she had someone who loved her to look after her and get her through it. If he really did love her.

But right then, she didn't even have herself.

The pills were safely hidden away in her backpack, and she had taken one. Just one. Only ever one.

Her ribs ached as she breathed out, and her spine started to form a dull pain as she shook violently. She would have gone back inside to get warm and sleep.

But that night was the end to a new day.

+

When Daryl woke up, he looked to his left and found that Marley had not slept on her cot. Or either she had gotten up early, which was strange in itself.

An unwanted sense of worry washed over him, the emotion making him cringe every time it occurred. It took him back to when he found his brother's hand on that rooftop. When he was yelling at the sky, and cursing the world.

He rubbed at his tired, baggy eyes, cracking his knuckles multiple times. 

He managed to get up from the cot, opening the door to the tent, and peeking outwards to their camp. Where he expected to find her, and she was not there.

Stepping out carefully, he used his decisive eyes to scan the entirety of their residence but found nothing but grass, logs, and the few squirrels he had strung up by the tree. He didn't remember putting them up there.

After changing into some cleaner clothes... at least clean enough for him, he picked up his crossbow and crossed the field to wherever the group was gathered. 

Carol and Lori were hanging up clothes and he expected Marley to be there with them. He expected her hair to be flowing freely down her back as her arms stretched up to reach the much taller clothes line. Her t-shirt lifting up and showing the tiny scratches that were permanently etched into her skin.

That's where he thought she would be.

"Morning guys," he heard Rick announce, walking towards the hood of a car. "Let's get going, we have a lot of ground to cover."

Daryl thought he wouldn't have a chance to see the girl that morning, but as he followed slowly towards the car, he found her. 

Her elbows were rested on the hood, her neck strained upwards towards the sky. She wore a long-sleeved shirt that covered the marking on her arms. Her strawberry waves lay against her bruised eye and cut up face.

He awkwardly stood next to her, putting his crossbow on the ground as more people gathered. The girl threw him a quick glance, with a weak smile. 

She nervously chewed on her shirt sleeve, standing up straighter as Rick started talking.

"All right, everyone's getting new search grids today. If she made it as far as the farmhouse Daryl found, she might have gone further east than we've gone so far."

Daryl's eyes were brought away from the girl beside him at the sound of his name. Daryl fiddled with the shirt he had in his hands, throwing it over himself whilst he kept a cautious eye on the boy who had approached them saying he wanted to help them out. Daryl stole a quick glance towards Marley, seeing her lost in her own world and staring at the map laid out in front of her. 

She hated to admit it to even herself, but she was instantly turned off by the farmboy just because of his name.

Shane's voice cut through the air, from where he was sat inside the actual truck. "Nothing about what Daryl found screams Sophia to me. Anyone could have been holed up in that farmhouse."

"Anyone includes her, right?" Andrea replied.

"Whoever slept in that cupboard is no bigger," Daryl hovered his hand near the side of his waist to imitate Sophia's height. "than yay high."

"It's a good lead," Andrea commented.

"Maybe we'll pick up her lead again," Rick added, clearing his throat and looking at the map.

"No maybe about it," Daryl started, and Marley looked to him.  Dale approached with the bag of guns and gently placing them down in front of the dancer.

Marley eyes her gun which had been put in there after she came back from the High School with Shane. It was a double holster with just one gun. Her eyes held a dangerous sense of wanting.

"I'm gonna borrow a horse, head up to this ridge right here, take a bird's-eye view of the whole grid. If she's up there, I'll spot her."

T-Dog lifted an eyebrow at his idea, suddenly having a joke rising up to his lips. "Good idea. Maybe you'll see your chupacabra."

The once glum looking Marley now emitted a soft laugh at his comment, smiling at her friend and then setting her eyes on the man who had apparently seen the chupacabra.

Although Daryl had told the rest of them the story, she had heard it from Merle, which turned out be a more animated and comical telling of the story.

"Chupacabra?" Rick said confusedly, looking between the laughing Marley and T-Dog, to the slightly scowling Daryl. 

"You never hear this?" Dale smirked, fidgeting with the bag of guns. "His first night in camp, Daryl tells us that the whole thing reminds him of a time when he went squirrel hunting and he saw a chupacabra." Dale passed over a gun towards Rick.

Jimmy snorted at that. Marley couldn't help but follow with her own, gripping her side and stopping her silent laughter when the pain became too annoying and harsh. 

"This crazy lady here was getting his panties in a knot, raving 'bout seeing a damn chupacabra," She remembered Merle saying.

"What're you braying at jackass?" Daryl accused Jimmy.

The boy challenged Daryl. "So you believe in a blood-sucking dog?"

"You believe in dead people walking 'round?"

Marley couldn't help but lift her smile from the ground and point it towards Daryl.He was amusing her, which he hadn't done very often. He looked at her from the corner of his eye, and they held each other's gaze. There was that moment before she put her eyes to the ground, slightly embarrassed and a near blush rose up her neck.

Before Daryl could muster up anything near to a smirk or a smile, he was pulled out of his thoughts as he noticed the teen boy reaching for the shotgun.

Rick pulled it away from him before he could grab it. "Hey, ever fired one before?"

"Well, if I'm going out I want one."

Daryl lifted his crossbow onto his shoulder, almost hitting Marley in the face, but catching it before it could. "Yeah, and people in hell want slurpies," he remarked, annoyed at the Jimmy's behaviour. Holding the strap of his crossbow, he walked swiftly in the direction of the stables. 

Marley's eyes followed him, and she wanted her feet to follow him too, but turned against her mind's suggestions.

Shane said he would teach him to shoot the next day, in a training session for the lesser experienced in shooting. But that day, Andrea and T-Dog would be accompanying him in their own search for Sophia.

After Andrea and T-Dog were given their search grids, whilst Marley looked on anxiously, again chewing her shirt sleeve.

Then it was the two cops, Dale, and the dancer left gathered around the map.

"Marley, I want you to drive up to the highway," Rick instructed the girl, shuffling through the sheriff's bag looking for a certain something. "Even if she stayed in that farmhouse, she could still go back. Don't stay there for long though, maybe twenty minutes"

Rick found what he was looking for, and handed the gun into Marley's hands. At the sheer weight, her hand began to shake.

She only answered with a small, "Yep." She tucked the gun into the back of her jeans.

"Will you okay by yourself, maybe you should take-"

"No, it's fine."

The thing was that Rick shouldn't have let her go by herself. She was a dangerous person to be left alone.

Left to her thoughts, the words in her mind were so loud that even the quietest room couldn't silence them. They would just keep going.

The thousands of her words that could go through her mind per second always set a fire in her head that only certain actions could put it out. 

But they would not be her own actions... they needed to be someone else's.

+

omg daryl you fucking creep

marley even smiled this chapter

you know you are mean when you make your character sad for chapters on end

so excited to write daryl falling down the cliff *evil laughter*

cause y'all know what's gonna come when darylina ballerina hallucinates

i know you people are smart and u defo know who's gonna be there

and i so love writing his thoughts because he is so obsessed with her and he doesn't even notice or really try to stop it.

and marley's like

daryl fucking go away

jks

she cares about him too much.

anyway comment and stuff cause i love it when you guys do that and it really makes my days

- Sylar