Here we go with Part 2!

Forewarning: You'll notice a stark absence of actual Carol involvement.

While I admittedly didn't go into this fic expecting it to turn into a Rickyl-fest, I can't say I have any regrets.

Hope you guys enjoy!

She announced after lunch that they were getting low on formula.

Rick watched as Daryl's posture shifted almost violently, his eyes shooting to Judith being coddled in Carl's arms before an antsy twitch seemed to animate his feet. Glancing at Carol, he found her watching Daryl almost amusedly, and stood from his place on the stairs to catch the group's attention.

"Alright, today's as good a day to go for a run as any. Anything else we need?"

Rick frowned when at least three hands shot up.

He had almost wanted to deny Daryl's casual request to come along and be his backup, but the man was already loading their weapons in the truck, tossing in a backpack half-filled with ammo and a torn piece of paper with everyone's "necessities" in after.

And after all, none of what Rick was fretting over was Daryl's fault. None of it was anyone's fault but his own.

Rick heard Daryl pop the hood of the truck to catch his attention, indicating he was more than ready to get a move on. Glancing toward the cage he could see Carol standing just inside, a small farewell wave being tossed their way.

He sighed, trudging to the truck with his pulse fluttering in anxiety.

At least he would have some time away.

They drove well over an hour, but it was worth it (he hoped).

Rick readied himself as they busted their way into what was once a fully-stocked grocery store, gun trained on the shifting shadows that the outer light created. Daryl ghosted nearby, bow in hand, backpack hanging loose off a shoulder as he side-stepped his way over the broken glass. One of the shadows moved, too sharp and too fast to be a result of the light.

They whipped around, near in unison, and Rick shifted to the side to allow Daryl ample free air to loose a bolt into the Walker clamoring their way.

A groan to their left. Rick holstered the Python and reached for his machete, meeting the dead woman near the check-out lines to drive the metal into the top of its head.

Daryl whistled low just after the woman dropped, and motioned to the signs above each aisle. Pointing to one, he raised the bow and headed deeper into the dark. Rick followed, whipping out a small flashlight to shine in each aisle he passed.

Before reaching Daryl he could hear another slice of air, followed by the tell-tale thunk that signaled another Walker down. Once he reached Daryl's side, they stopped.

Stood still and listened.

Rick could hear, towards the back of the store, the shuffling of at least one or two more…

He met Daryl's eyes and nodded.

And his companion slipped from sight around the corner of the aisle.

Once cleared, they went to work, quietly starting from one end of the store to sweep each necessary section. Rick almost chuckled at Daryl's gall to start with Maggie's request of "you know…feminine products, Rick" before recalling the way Carol's head had bobbed in vehement agreement.

Another flip of his stomach and he bit his lip to keep from cussing himself, focusing on grabbing the forgotten stock of pads and tampons that lined the shelves.

Such things always seemed a bit easier to find, he found, since most people were far more focused on more urgent needs like food and water and ammunition.

By the time they reached the baby aisle Daryl's pack was bulging with everything from bottled water to Pamprin to bags of dried beans, and Rick regretted instantly not bringing another bag along to help carry the load.

Was he really so distracted?

Shaking his head at himself he focused on lighting up the left side of the aisle, flicking over several empty spaces where their much-needed formula should have been.

Daryl passed him by in silence, an unusual tension seeming to seep off his skin and forcing Rick to turn and look at him. It was something they had developed over the winter, an ability to speak to each other, read each other, without much effort put forth at all.

It came easily now, and Rick knew it was because Daryl had become much more to him than just a friend.

They were brothers.

Which made it even harder for Rick to watch as Daryl turned to the right side of the aisle and plucked a small box of off-brand condoms from the shelf before hastily shoving it into the pack.

He tried to swallow, felt his throat close up and that annoying heat-like prickle teased the skin of his neck as Daryl slowed his movements to look up at him.

The man glanced at the shelf before straightening with a visible attempt to shake off his own discomfort.

"S'fer Glenn. Shut up, Rick."

A mock glare his way sent Rick exhaling heavily, a quirk in his lips conveying a relief he really didn't want to acknowledge. If Daryl noticed it, he made no mention, instead striding close to stand beside him and eye the half-empty shelves of baby food. As they reached into the metal spaces to fish out whatever they could find, the wave of confused relief seemed to scramble his poor stressed brains, and before he could even fathom just what can of worms he was opening, Rick parted his lips and let the question loose:

"So, you an' Carol aren't…?"

As he peered close at a can of formula to check its expiration date, Daryl shifted to the side to jerk his head Rick's way. An erratic blink of eyes behind those long dark bangs told him his friend (no, not friend, brother) was taking a second to process the question before, as if on impulse, Daryl shook his head stiffly, just once.

He chuckled as Daryl took a step away from him, seemingly embarrassed.

Rick eyed him, fingering a box of baby cereal,

"It's just I-everyone figured, you know, when she moved into your cell…"

"Ain't like that."

"Oh…"

Something in the low murmur of Daryl's voice told him to discontinue the conversation, and, ignoring the strange, awful lightness in his chest Rick looked down at the box in his hand to turn it over and search for a date.

To his right, Daryl made a sound, something close to a snort, before moving to turn towards him,

"Hell, what does it even matt-?"

Rick cringed internally as Daryl cut off his own question with a sudden tense silence.

Breathing deep, he raised his eyes to meet those of his friend.

In the two seconds that passed between them then, Rick watched and took in an array of emotions and signals; a disbelieving, almost shocked furrow of Daryl's brows told Rick that he was putting it all together, and then, a shift of those blue-green orbs to the side before Daryl's head shook slightly and his eyes flicked back to Rick's own.

A fraction of a movement, but he caught the lowering of Daryl's lids and hell, it could have been the lighting (he wanted it to be the damn lighting) but he swore those eyes darkened and Rick knew exactly what message was being thrown his way.

A warning, short, sharp, before suddenly transforming into a softened hesitance that Rick could only guess was self-doubt.

Daryl's brows bent and his eyes flicked away and his body tensed, shifting back to the shelves.

And none of it felt right on his end. And he knew he couldn't do it, he knew it wasn't in him to be that kind of man.

He wouldn't.

Rick suddenly wanted to set the box of cereal back on the shelf, grab the rusted metal with both hands, and proceed to slam his forehead into its edge over and over until this whole emotional shitstorm disintegrated into blood-soaked unconsciousness.

Instead, he swallowed a thick gulp of stale air, stepped quietly and cautiously to Daryl's side, and calmly placed the cereal box in the backpack hanging loosely from the man's left hand.

As the two men hovered close, Rick bent in and caught Daryl's attention without meeting his gaze.

And then he did it. He backed down.

Because it needed to be done.

"You shoulda seen the look in her eyes when she thought you weren't comin' back. Carol's a special woman, Daryl…and she loves you."

A seize of muscle from the man just next to him, a quiet but sharp exhale as Daryl jerked away from their close contact.

Rick balled his fists against his own feelings and felt his nerves tingle with energy as his friend and brother grabbed one last box from the shelf and ducked his head to pass him by, a noncommittal grumble on his lips.

"Yeah."

Rick watched him from the corner of his eye the whole, painfully silent drive home. Daryl stared out the passenger-side window, breathing shallow and tight.

They'd made a successful run, gotten everything they needed and more, but nothing about the day itself felt like something to breathe easy about. He sighed, pulling up to the gate as Maggie unlocked it. Nearby, Carol slipped out to jam a piece of broken pipe into the skull of a straggling Walker.

Glenn helped jerk her back inside and they collectively pulled the gate open for the truck to pass.

As he made to park, Rick watched Carol through his rear-view mirror, all peaceful smiles as she identified them both to be alive and well.

In his periphery, Daryl's head moved to look at him.

"Ya ain't tellin' me nothin' I don't already know."

He blinked at the throaty declaration, pulled his eyes of the woman jogging up behind the tuck to meet those piercing sea-blue eyes again.

Daryl squinted at him, exhaled through his nose and Rick could see his nostrils flare from the force of it. Chewing on his lip, Daryl shifted to grab hold of the door handle and made an attempt to soften his demeanor.

"I already know she's special. I already know she cares about me."

Rick breathed against the weight in his chest and swallowed it all down, held Daryl's eyes and smiled as Carol came to stand just outside of the passenger-side door. He watched her wave at him gleefully before fixing her gaze on the back of Daryl's head.

"Well then, brother, I'd suggest you do somethin' about it."

Because no one else is good enough.