I've come to the conclusion to discontinue my other WIP, Linger.

This was not a decision hastily made, I will assure you that. I haven't had a lot of time on my hands as it as, and I'm a dreadfully slow writer, and trying to update regular, long chapters is really wearing on me. I had some really good ideas, but they just don't "right".

And then I decided that writing is supposed to be fun. It's something you're supposed to enjoy. And I really wasn't enjoying writing Linger. So to keep myself sane, and maintain my love of writing, I'm not going to be continuing it.

If you ever meet me, feel free to slap me upside the head, alright? I'll take it with gratitude. From now on, or at least until I get more time/motivation, I'm going to be sticking to drabbles and one shots. Anyway, sorry for the long and boring Author's Note. Enjoy!

Carol had volunteered to take over watch duty so that Glenn and Maggie could rest up and have a bite to eat. She tugged on a coat and snatched up her gun and made her way to the guard tower. But before she could pass through the door and ascend the stairs, Daryl was loping up behind her, his crossbow slung over his shoulder, looking strangely less rugged in his leather sleeves.

"Hey," he called. She was still several yards ahead of him, and she turned to face him, holding a hand up to block the autumn sun from her eyes. "You mind if I join you?"

She smiled playfully, and placed a hand on her hip.

"Gettin' sick of babysittin' your brother, huh?"

He slowed his pace as he approached her, panting ever-so-slightly. Her smile softened.

"Of course I don't mind."

And it was true, too. She did like his company, even if he was painfully awkward at times. His mere presence would brighten the dullness of watch duty.

Neither said much to the other; just silently watched a few walkers stumble around in the leaf litter. The morning was crisp, as autumn mornings often were. It was a pleasant time of year, she thought; a season suspended between the bitter coldness of winter and sweltering hotness of summer. And then she suddenly remembered that it had been just shy of a year since she'd taken out her first walker.

He glanced over at her, and she was grinning.

"What's so funny?" he asked, staring off into the distance.

"Remember the first time I killed a walker?"

He felt his cheeks grow hot at the memory, and she laughed. Of course he remembered. He'd never forget.

The nights were getting longer and colder, and the days were often grey and sunless. The first snow had yet to fall, but the dew on the grass had turned to frost, and their breaths steamed in the air. Carol had finally gotten the hang of using a gun.

She and Daryl had just finished up another lesson, and they were trekking back to camp. The sky was bleak, and the trees were skeletons of their former selves. Her accuracy had seen a vast improvement, and she was slowly adjusting to the feel of the bulky, metal object in her hands. But despite her boosted morale, she had yet to actually kill anything.

She knew that moment would come soon enough, and when it did, she'd wish it hadn't. But she couldn't help but yearn to prove a point; to Daryl, and to herself. The night the farm fell, she'd told him she was a burden. And though he didn't say it aloud, she knew he agreed.

She wasn't going to be a burden anymore. She'd made a vow to do everything in her power not to be. But she just needed the chance show everyone that she meant it; that she could fight and contribute to their group just as much as anyone else.

And that chance came embodied as a single silhouette, shambling across the horizon. Daryl spotted it at the exact same time she did, and had his crossbow raised in the blink of an eye. But before he could squeeze the trigger, she reached out and laid a hand on his arm, pressing down gently, silently conveying the message to lower his weapon.

"I can do this," she whispered, and reluctantly, he backed down, and she stepped up. She raised her gun, her finger fixed on the trigger, waiting for the precise moment to fire. The walker hadn't noticed them yet, and its gaze was fixated on something in the distance. She wasn't at the right angle to penetrate its brain. So she took a risk, and whistled.

The walker's head snapped over in their direction, and it gave a low, throaty growl. For just a split second, she was seized by a bolt of fear, and her blood froze in her veins. But then she took a deep breath, readjusted her grip on the gun, and remembered that Daryl was standing just beside her, and he wouldn't let any harm befall her.

She fired, and her arm reared back at the sudden force. Her bullet sailed through the air, and buried itself in the flesh of the walker's neck. Her initial instinct was to be deterred, but there was no time to wallow in her failures. She reminded herself that it was only her first time; that she'd improve as she gained experience.

She shot again, and obliterated the lower half of the walker's jaw. Blood and shattered bone splattered onto the grass. It was better, but not the best she could do. She readied her weapon once more, and squeezed the trigger, giving it her all. There was a flash of red, and the walker fell, lifeless, into the dirt, a crimson pool blooming under its head.

She turned to Daryl, grinning like a fool, her eyes brighter than he'd ever seen them before. He knew what she sought, so he gave it to her: he gave her a nod, and the tiniest upward curve of his lips.

It had been a signal of approval; a way to show her that he was proud of how far she'd come. But she seemed to take it as a cue, judging by the way she dashed forward, without a sliver of warning, and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. She was laughing, then, and he could not find it in him to push her away. So, having not a single clue where to put his hands, he just stood there, letting her hug him while he blushed profusely.

When she finally withdrew, he thought it was over, but she was not quite finished. She leaned up, balancing on her tippy-toes, and pecked him on the cheek.

"Thanks for teaching me," she said, backing away. She feared she might see disdain in his eyes. She realized only afterwards how many boundaries she'd crossed. But to her surprise, he wasn't glaring at her at alll. He looked vulnerable as hell, though.

"You're welcome," he replied, his voice a shade softer and shyer than normal. She gave him one last smile before turning on her heel and leading the way back to camp. There was a hastiness to her gait. No doubt the gunshot had alerted every walker in the area of their presence.

And only when she wasn't looking did he allow himself to reach up and touch the spot where she kissed him, as if he could merely brush it away. But he couldn't. That kiss was imprinted on his cheek for life.