#dad daryl

The doctor's suspiciously friendly voice barely reached the archer's ears. His ocean coloured eyes stared off at nothing in particular, his mind desperately attempting to wrap around that one pivotal fact the doctor had accidentally exposed to the unsuspecting father. Due to that fact, about a million thoughts were flooding through his brain—pregnant. You're pregnant. Baby. Father. He was going to be a father. He needed to get you out of there. He needed to keep you safe.

“Liam should be made aware that I expect to see the lady again tomorrow,” Doctor Owen told Mariah, subtly motioning over to you. “With the beating Peter gave her, I want to monitor the baby. I want to ensure that these two don't lose their child due to that asshole's—” The doctor cut himself off and took a deep breath before continuing. “Peter's recklessness. Please bring that to his attention.” With that, the doctor walked towards the door and opened it, momentarily stopping to add one last thing. “I'm off for the rest of day. Don't forget to lock up once your done.”

Mariah nodded as she helped you from the bed, careful not to disturb your injuries. “Of course.” She turned towards you and gave you a hesitant smile. “Ma'am, how are you feeling?”

How were you feeling? There were at least a million answers to that question: Slightly happy. Angry. Sad. Frustrated. But above all else? Overwhelmed. You were truly and undeniably extremely overwhelmed. You now had concrete evidence that you had a life growing within you, and although you were ecstatic at the news, you knew there were far more pressing matters at hand. For one, you were a thousand percent sure that your husband was pissed at you for keeping your pregnancy a secret and insisting on going with him beyond the safety the walls of Alexandria provided. On another note, you were even more certain that the supposed safe zone the two of you found yourselves trapped in wasn't all what Liam was making it out to be. That almost definitely meant that blood would be shed when you and Daryl attempted your escapes.

“Ma'am?” Mariah prompted, snapping her fingers in your face to grab your attention. “How are you feeling?” she repeated the question in a softer tone.

You shrugged and cast your eyes down towards your feet. “Okay, I guess,” you mumbled out weakly, your voice unknowingly snapping Daryl out of his trance and redirecting his fiery gaze to you. “I've had it way worse than this before.”

Mariah chuckled before she took a step back. “I bet,” she began, picking up the tray with the various tools and ointments that were used to clean and fix up your wounds. “You look like a real tough gal. You wouldn't have survived if you didn't get roughed up a couple of times, right?”

“Right,” you agreed in a mutter, your eyes hesitantly moving to meet those of your husband. You flinched a bit when you were met with a glare, but you didn't blame him. You knew he'd be pissed, and rightfully so. You just didn't expect him to be so open about his anger. Well, open by your standards. To the regular eye, his anger would be mistaken for the signature Daryl scowl, but you knew better. This was different. He was angry. And he was angry at you, which made it so much worse.

Mariah placed the tray on one of the tables before turning back to face you and Daryl. However, before she could speak up, a voice could be heard through the room; a voice that you had grown to know and hate, all within a few... Minutes? Hours? You didn't even know at this point.

“Mariah, love,” the voice of your captor, Liam, rung through the air from the walkie talkie that was sat on one of the shelves. “It was just brought to my attention that Doctor Miller is done with the new recruits. Please bring them up to the house for me.”

Mariah sighed, her steadily relaxing demeanour being replaced by that earlier nervous, mouse-like stature she had when you had originally met her. She walked towards the door and opened it. “Please follow me,” she squeaked out nervously, her eyes darting around.

You slowly walked towards her, not sparing Daryl a glance because you didn't want to see the anger behind those beautiful blue eyes of his. Besides, as mad as the archer was at you, he would never let you face that man alone. He would much rather die, that much you knew.

Daryl grumbled to himself and followed behind you, proving your point. Together, in silence, the two of you followed the woman out of the makeshift medical building and up to the big farmhouse you vaguely remembered spotting earlier—the farmhouse Liam had mentioned you and Daryl would be staying in with him. In no time at all, the three of you were walking up the steps of the majestic, white home, and in through the front door.

The inside of the home looked even more beautiful than the outside. It seemed as if though the horrors of the outside world were never heard of for this house. The floors were shining, the walls were decorated with all sorts of artwork, and there was even a television resting in the living room. However, you doubted the object even worked, because you hadn't spotted solar panels or anything that could generate power, so the thing was more of a decoration than anything else.

You were snapped out of your rather unnecessary train of thought by the feeling of someone's hand resting on your shoulder. The touch was all too familiar—it was your husband who was resting his hand on your shoulder. A subtle glance to your left proved your suspicions correct. So your husband didn't hate you. You considered that a win. However, you were confused as to why he felt the need to do that. He rarely did that in public, unless he was trying to comfort you, or to refrain himself from launching a punch in someone's direction. So why would he—

Your thoughts were cut off by the obnoxious sound of an all too familiar British accented voice. “Ah, well would you look at you?” Liam began as he descended down the stairs, his green eyes alight with invitation. However, whether or not it was genuine, you were yet to find out. “You're looking better, Y/N. Doctor Miller did a good job. A shower and a set of fresh clothes will certainly make you look rather ravishing.” Daryl's hand tightened on your shoulder, and you brought your hand to rest over his, a subtle way of trying to calm him down. Liam noticed, however, and sent Daryl a reassuring smile with a raise of his hands. “Woah, there, champ. No need to get all feisty. I already have a lady of my own. I was just making an observation.”

“Observation, my ass. Shouldn't even be lookin' at her, ya stupid fuck,” you heard Daryl mumble under his breath, and you had to refrain from giggling. Daryl wasn't a jealous guy perse, and he certainly wouldn't stop you from befriending other guys, but he definitely had his moments. Although he had other reasons to want to knock this guy out, it was rather cute to know that he didn't want Liam to look at you that way.

Liam, thankfully, was blissfully unaware of the archer's hateful words, instead turning to regard Mariah, who had been quiet during the whole exchange. “Hey, my beautiful girl,” he greeted her, opening his arms as an invitation for a hug.

Mariah hesitantly walked into his arms, tensing slightly when he pressed a soft kiss to the side of her head. You were sure to make a mental note about that. You didn't know why exactly Mariah was so scared of her husband, but you knew it wasn't good. If his own wife was terrified of him for god knows what reason, you didn't even want to know what he could do to complete strangers.

After he was satisfied with the hug, Liam pulled back and turned back to you and Daryl. He was about to say something until an unknown man barged into the room, breathless and sweating. Liam scowled angrily at the man, swiftly pushing Mariah aside. “Reggie, this better be really fucking important. You know how I feel about being interrupted when interviewing new recruits.”

The man—Reggie—quickly nodded. “I know, I know.” He panted breathlessly and leaned against the wall in an attempt to recapture his breath. “There was a man who demanded to speak to you. He refuses to speak to anyone but the leader.”

Liam stared at Reggie for a few seconds, his face giving absolutely nothing away, until he nodded and turned back to you and Daryl. “Please make yourselves comfortable. I promise I won't be long. Mariah,” he began, turning to his wife and lazily waving towards the door that lead to another room. “Please make our guests something to eat. I'm sure they must be absolutely famished. Oh, and get them something to drink as well.” Liam sent the two of you a smile. “I hope wine is alright. I'd offer up some scotch, but that's really hard to come by and I don't fancy wine that much, you see.”

“Liam!” Reggie exclaimed impatiently. “We got to go!”

“For fuck's sake, alright!” Liam roared loudly, his eyes alight with a fiery glare. He roughly pushed past the man and stormed out of the door, Reggie having to jog behind him to keep up. The door closed behind them with a slam, and just like that, you and Daryl were left alone with Mariah for the second time that day.

Mariah let out a small sigh, and you could see her visibly relax without Liam's presence. It was odd to you that the woman felt more at ease with two complete strangers who could turn around and end up hurting—or killing—her, and it only fueled your reluctance to trust Liam. There was something very off about that man, and you were determined to find out what.

Mariah turned to look at you, her eyes darting between your face and your stomach. “Um, are you sure you want wine? I mean, I don't want to force you to do anything, but—”

“It's okay,” you cut her off, sending her a small, tight-lipped smile. “Water is fine, thank you.”

Mariah nodded and motioned towards the couches. “Please, feel free to make yourselves comfortable. I won't be long.” With that, she scurried off into the kitchen, leaving you and Daryl alone in the living room.

Without the company of others, the air surrounding the two of you got tense very quickly. Neither of you made a move to sit down, but Daryl did move away from you, his warm, comforting touch leaving your shoulder. He refused to make eye contact with you, and it broke your heart. You knew he was mad at you, and he had every right to be, but it certainly didn't mean that it didn't hurt. You were certain it would be up to you to clear the air, and that's what you'd do—whether Mariah heard it or not.

“Daryl—” you began hesitantly, but you were instantly shut down.

“Don't,” he muttered bitterly, his back still turned to you. His shoulders were visibly tensed and even though you couldn't see it, you knew his jaw was as well. He was trying hard not to lash out at you, and you had to give him credit for his self-control.

However, you weren't having any of it. You were nothing if not extremely persistent, so you'd stop at nothing until you'd had a chance to explain yourself. “No, I'm not gonna stop until you've let me speak my mind.”

Daryl whipped around to face you, his eyes finally meeting yours. His eyes were set in a steely glare, but you didn't back down. “Where could ya possibly start explainin' yerself to me?” he spat bitterly. “Yer pregnant and ya kept tha' from me? Ya begged and pleaded to come with me on the run today and put yerself and our baby in danger! Now 'cause'a tha', yer in fuckin' danger. If ya had jus' told me tha' ya were pregnant, maybe things would'a been different. Maybe we would'a been safe back home. Maybe I never would'a suggested the run. Maybe I would'a let Rick come with instead'a ya. Maybe—”

You cut Daryl off by pulling him into a hug, nuzzling your face into his chest. He froze for a few seconds, hesitating to return the hug, but ultimately wrapped his arms around you. He rested his chin on top of your head, closing his eyes as he felt the anger drain from his body. He never could stay mad at you. However, it didn't mean that he wasn't still upset that you were in danger.

“I'm sorry,” you whispered against his chest. “I should've told you I was pregnant, I know that. I just didn't want to say anything until I was a hundred percent sure. That's why I wanted to go on that run with you. I wanted to find a few pregnancy test. I guess I could've just asked you to do that, but I didn't want you to freak out. I was... Scared. I was scared that if you knew that I thought I was pregnant, something would go wrong. I don't know what I expected to go wrong, but I just... I promise I was gonna tell you after I knew for sure. You have to believe me. I—”

“Hey, s'okay,” Daryl reassured you, pulling back to look into your eyes. Daryl was feeling all kinds of bad at that moment. You didn't deserve to be treated like that for any reason, especially not by him. You had your reasons for keeping it a secret from him, and he couldn't blame you for it. He was upset, but the two of you could figure that out later. For now, all he wanted to do was get you the hell out of that place, and to do that, he needed a clear mind. “M'sorry fer reactin' like tha'. M'upset ya didn't tell me, but there ain't nothin' we can do 'bout it now. We jus' have to figure out a way to get the fuck outta here. We can figure the rest out later, alrigh'?”

You nodded. “Okay.”

The two of you practically sprung apart when the door flung open again. However, instead of being met by Liam, you were met by somebody completely different. The man came strutting in like he owned the place. The man stopped and regarded the two of you with an indifferent look. “And you two are?” he questioned, plopping himself down on one of the couches.

You shared a look with Daryl, neither of you making any attempts to answer the question. However, you didn't need to, because Liam soon entered the home as well, sending you and Daryl a suspiciously friendly smile. “Sorry for disappearing, champs,” he began. “He was the one causing an uproar by the gates. This guy can make quite the spectacle when he wants to, don't you, brother?” The two men shared a laugh, before Liam calmed down and regarded the two of you. A look of realization dawned on his face, and he hit his forehead with his palm. “Oh, how rude of me. Allow me to introduce him. This is Lucas Davis, my brother and right-hand man.”

The man—Lucas—sent you a small smirk, his eyes trailing you up and down. And for some reason, you knew that the arrival of this man would only mean trouble.

The moment you woke up, your mind was blank. There was nothing there. No memories. At least, you still had the ability of speaking, reading and writing, besides that, not a thing. You didn’t even remember your own name. You didn’t remember the world before dead people started walking. Some people said you were lucky, because you couldn’t miss something you didn’t remember, but most of the times it was frustrating not knowing about who you were.

Without a name or a history, the Greenes soon adopted you, giving you the name Y/N, because they said it suited you and their last name. You liked how Y/N Greene sounded, and you liked the people that took you in and soon made you love them and be part of the family. Everyday was a new day to discover what you liked or disliked, to learn something new and learn who you were.

The group from Atlanta came, and with them also came a lot of trouble and a certain mysterious hunter that refused to leave your thoughts. He didn’t even looked at you, why were you dreaming about him? Little did you know you never left his thoughts too, and that was incredibly annoying. The farm burned down and all of you lost your safe place. You took the road, then you arrived at the prison and with the months passing you grew closer and closer to Daryl Dixon, but you were only friends. Until… after the people from Woodbury joined you and an event brought you two together.

And that was how you ended up like this, married to him, a 6 year old son and one more baby on the way. Now you lived in Alexandria a community that gave you a home again, a small sense of normalcy and where your strange family only grew. You had all been through a lot already… the prison fell, you were almost eaten by cannibals and you had survived a war against a group called The Saviors, which leader Negan killed many of your friends and broke and destroyed your husband. The first time you listened to the name of the worst person you heard of it made you feel something strange, just like if your guts were being pulled by an invisible hand, but you couldn’t tell why. Maybe it was just because he was a sick son of a bitch.

He killed Glenn which was like your brother in law as you and Maggie had become instantly sisters. He killed Abraham the gigantic ginger of a big heart and a mouth dirtier than a sailor’s. And his worst crime, in your heart, was what he made Daryl go through. He tortured, humiliated and broke piece by piece of the man you loved, and that you couldn’t forgive. You never got to see him. That sounds strange, but every time he showed up you wasn’t in Alexandria, the missions everybody went you couldn’t go because of your enormous belly that had the biggest baby you had ever saw, damn Daryl and his genes, that baby was hard to push - but yet here you were carrying another one. In the final battle you had your baby Dixon in your arms, so you never got to see the man. Even after Rick almost killed him, but in the last seconds asked Siddiq to save him.

You never had to see the man you despised and hated so much, until now that you were walking on Alexandria streets going to get his food and deliver it to him. You managed to keep the distance from him the past 6 years and nobody ever asked you to do a thing for him. Maybe because he brought back the memories of what he did to Daryl, or maybe because you agreed and supported Maggie about killing him. But now, you were making a favor to Gabriel, Michonne wasn’t in town and Rosita needed him. So why not? It couldn’t be so difficult, you repeated the steps on your head: handcuff him, open the cell, put the tray on the floor, close the cell and release him. After that you just needed to leave and never look at him again, at least you hoped so.

When you entered the dark room only illuminated by the daily light that came from the small window, it sent chills through all your body and you felt your “little pear” get agitated in your belly. ‘Lil pear’ was the nickname Daryl gave the baby you had in your belly, because he was pretty sure that it was a girl this time. You didn’t have an opinion about it, but you knew he would be happy if it was a sweet little girl like his ‘lil ass kicker’. You put the tray on a chair and before catching the handcuff on your pocket, you caressed your already big belly to assure your baby that nothing bad would happen.

“Never thought you’d ever come to visit me.” You heard his voice and once again it was like someone was pulling your guts.

“Believe me, I tried to come for a deadly visit, but I wasn’t allowed to.” You replied, handcuffs already in your hands. “Hands outside the bars.”

“I know you hate me, but you wouldn’t dare to kill me.” He put both hands outside the cage so you could handcuff him.

“Don’t tempt me Negan, or I may take the offer.” You handcuffed him and now took the key to open the cell.

“You really enjoyed fucking Dixon, didn’t you?” People were right he knew so damn well how to make anyone lose their temper. “A precious sweet little boy the one you have.” You had opened the door.

“Never!” You kicked the side of his leg on the height of the knee, earning a grunt in pain from him. “Never talk about my child again! Don’t even look at him!”

“This isn’t how I raised you sweetie… but I’m glad you can take care of yourself in this world.” You went outside the cage to take the tray of food. “But this isn’t the way you should treat your father.”

You gave him an annoyed look. “My father is Hershel Greene, and he’s dead. So, no way a scumbag like you is my father.” Fuck, remembering Hershel made tears surface in your eyes. Damn, fucking hormones.

You lowered the maximum you could to put the tray on the floor and made a mental note to tell Gabriel you’d never help him in such activities again till the end of your pregnancy. He didn’t know how fucked up it was to squat in that situation.

“Your name isn’t Y/N. Your maiden name was Smith. You have a mole in your back, close to your shoulder. You got a scar on your left knee after you fell from your bike, you were 8…” he said and that stroke you in a way you couldn’t explain. Yes, you had a mole. Yes, you had this scar that you didn’t know how you got since you had no memories from your past. You left his cell and closed the door. “Guess, you aren’t Daddy’s pretty princess anymore…”

At that moment the unthinkable happened, a storm of memories hit you running through your mind and you had to hold yourself on the bars, or you could swear you’d fall. Your childhood. Your teens. Memories of an old life you didn’t had anymore, and the day you caught your dad cheating on your stepmom, the reason why you left them not looking back, because you couldn’t bring yourself to tell her and break her heart, but you also couldn’t look at your father’s face and don’t feel anger. A wave of anger that contained all the last years and now also your memories from the past hit you, and when you realized it, you were with your hands on his collar yanking him towards the bars, his face impossibly close to it.

“What did you do to Lucille?” You yelled at him, from all the things you could have asked or yelled at him, he wasn’t expecting this. “What happened to her?! You gave her name to a fucking bat!”

“I didn’t kill her, if that’s what you’re thinking. Jesus… I couldn’t even kill her turned self.” He confessed. “She had cancer. She discovered it a little after you left… she was still in treatment when the outbreak happened.” And then he told you the short story of what happened and you blamed yourself for not being there for her, she was like a mom to you and you ran away just because you couldn’t tell her your dad was a cheater, but now he was worse, he was a psycho.

You released his hands from the handcuff and stored it on your pocket again. “I’m asking Gabriel to take the tray.” You said, you didn’t even need to tell him anything, but you didn’t know why you said.

“Can you bring the boy to meet me?” He had the audacity to ask. You snorted.

“If it depends on me, he’ll never meet you. You killed my friends, my brother… you tortured my husband, and that sweet little boy had a complicated birth because of what you inflicted in all of us, and do you think you have any right of meeting him?” He could see the tears in your eyes threatening to fall, and his heart clenched just like when you were little and would cry because you were hurt. But you’d not let it happen in front of him. You’d not cry. “If you had remained you, if you hadn’t caused so much pain, this would be a completely different reencounter.”

Once you finished talking you left the small little prison and when you turned to go up the stairs, you saw Daryl up the stairs, the look in his eyes indicating worry. He was probably looking for you, and someone probably said where you were. He saw in your eyes that you were in the verge of crying, you went up the stairs and once in front of him, you urged him to leave the place, you didn’t want him to see you crying.

You entered home, hand in hand and he took you to the sofa, sitting there with you. He put one arm on your shoulders and brought you to rest your head against his chest. “What did he tell you?” He asked and you were sure he was already thinking of a way of destroying the prisoner.

“I… I remember everything, Daryl.” You said, and the tears that you had been holding just fell down. “Negan’s my father.”

He didn’t look surprised, because he wasn’t. He knew it. For years already. Being married with the archer for so many years, made you a little observant like him and in that moment you knew there was something wrong.

“You’re not surprised.” You said, it was an affirmation, not a question. “Did you know?”

He took a deep breath, his hand on your head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know how was your past with him. I was afraid it was so messed up that you would break if you got your memories back.”

“Did you never doubt my loyalty after you discovered it?” That was a difficult question, that you were not sure if you were prepared to listen to his answer. You weren’t mad at him, you kneel him and you knew he had no bad intentions on hiding it from you and to be honest, deep down you wished Gabriel had never sent you there.

“Wouldn’t have put another baby in ya if I did.” He didn’t want to be coarse, that was just the way he was and when he said that you knew he’d never doubt you. “I’ve been with ya for years, wouldn’t ever doubt you.”

“How did you discover it?” You wrapped your arms around his torso.

Some days after Negan was taken to his cell in Alexandria, he saw something through the small window that he didn’t expected. You. His daughter that had given her back to him many years ago. When the world ended, Lucille had told him to go and look for you, but he couldn’t do that, he needed to take care of her. Months passed and you never showed up at home, he thought you would try to get home if the apocalypse happened, so he just assumed you were dead. He saw you with Daryl and a cute baby in your arms, and that’s how he discovered you were the pregnant wife he had and everyone talked about, but he never got to meet. Also, you were going by a different name. He’d never think it was you. He was a monster, but he was a father, and he was so glad you were alive and well… but he also knew you probably hated him more than anything. Next time Rick visited him, he talked to him and asked to see you. Of course the ex-sheriff didn’t tell you, he told Daryl and that day the hunter had a ‘nice’ conversation with the ex Savior.

“Ya’re not telling her anything, ya aren’t even going ta look at’er or ma son.” He didn’t want to be controlling, abusive or anything of it, but he knew you were better not knowing it. It would destroy you if you knew you were related to a monster. “If ya try anything, a single little thing, I’m gonna kill ya and feed you to the walkers.”

He listened to Daryl, for long 6 years, but he didn’t have many options since he was in his cell all the time and you never came close to it. Everything organized for you to not do so, Rick, Michonne and Carol knew, all of the three knew and would make everything so you didn’t need to have contact with Negan, that’s until the day you decided to do a favor for Gabriel.

“He wasn’t a bad father.” You said when your husband finished telling you what happened. “To be honest, I have mostly good memories of him. A year before the outbreak, or so, I caught him cheating on my stepmom. I ran away, because I didn’t have the courage to tell her and I was so angry at him. I was dramatic and childish.”

“Nah, you weren’t. That was how ya felt, and it’s ok.” He kissed the top of your head and squeezed you in his arms.

“Do you think it would have made any difference if I had stayed?”

“I dunno. There’s no way to know. But one thing I know, we wouldn’t have met, and we wouldn’t have our precious lil boy or our lil pear on the way.” He caressed your belly while talking and he was right… things happened how they were supposed to happen and there was no way you could know if anything would have been different.

Soon the door opened and your little ray of sunshine came running directly to the living room and hugging you and his ‘little sis’, like he was now calling the baby. You thought it was because Daryl would say all the time it was a girl, but he would always say it wasn’t. ‘Kids know these things, they can feel’, he would say.

“Momma, how was your day? Did my lil sis kick a lit today?” He asked with his little face leaning on your stomack and his big blue eyes shining.

“My day was wonderful baby. Little pear kicked just a little today.” You said, your hand on top of your head. “How was school? Who brought you?”

“It was good. Jude brought me.” He said and then he looked at Daryl. “Daddy, you forgot me.”

“I’m sorry little man.” He sat his son on his lap. “Momma needed ma help.”

When he heard you had been sent to take food to Negan, he forgot about everything and ran to get to you. He was so afraid of what could happen that he forgot to take the kids. It was safe, it was inside Alexandria, but either way he needed to be there, to teach your son could only trust you, he shouldn’t go with anybody to anywhere, unless it was people you really trusted.

“Why don’t you go up, put away your things and wait momma to take your bath?” Daryl told the little boy and he went immediately upstairs.

Daryl got up and headed to the hall, you followed him and saw he was ready to leave.

“Where are you going?” You asked, clueless, you had just arrived home and your kid was back.

“Gonna have a talk with Negan.” He said. He was so good at comforting you that you didn’t notice he was boiling in anger. He had told him to not say a thing and he just opened his big mouth!

“Babe, he’s an asshole. We already know it, just let him be. I guess I made everything clear to him.” You tried to soothe him, both your hands enveloping his face.

“I gave him a warning, and still he made ya cry.” He delicately took your hands from his face and walked to the door.

“Daryl, please… don’t kill him.” You had confused feelings, you hated Negan for so many reasons and now at the same time remembering he was your father…

“Can’t promise ya that, sweetheart.” He opened the door and left.

You didn’t know if you believed in God anymore, but in that moment you prayed to whatever force there were that Daryl could calm down and also that none of this mess harm your son and your unborn baby.

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You have to admit that you have adapted well to life in Alexandria. The community is large, with a lot of different people, you have learned to get along there, you know the streets and most of its inhabitants, they are even looking for a job for you.

You love the peace, the calm that exists in that place, of course not everything is rosy, there are small altercations that the people manages to solve, some lost Walker, some group of unwanted people, more people who want to live in peace, some typical constipation of the season.

But what you love the most is Daryl.

Daryl and Hope.

You love watching them together. You don't know how to explain it, but Daryl and your baby have created a bond that you can almost say you're envious of. From day one, Daryl has taken care of you, now that Hope is there too, he's not separated from either of you. The first time Daryl held her in his arms you felt as if she was made for him, as if she was born the perfect shape and size to fit in his arms. A shy, but excited smile decorated the hunter's mouth and you felt your heart melt.

And it wasn't the only time.

Daryl would take care of Hope whenever you needed some time to yourself, whether it was because you'd had a bad night, like if you were feeling discomfort after childbirth, or just because you were feeling over the top with emotions. Daryl would lay with you with Hope between you and you felt yourself relax, physically and mentally grateful that Daryl was with you. One of those times you needed him with you, you both fell asleep, when you opened your eyes you discovered that Hope was sleeping peacefully on Daryl's chest, who was also sleeping comfortably, one of his hands resting on the baby's bottom to prevent her from falling.

You watched them sleep until he frowned and slowly opened his eyes, you witnessed how his cheeks turned reddish when he was discovered, but you didn't say anything, when Hope woke up you settled down to breastfeed her and Daryl took the opportunity to prepare some breakfast.

Your kiss? No one has talked about it, nor has it been repeated. It's like it's something that never happened.

You've been so focused on taking care of Hope, on making sure she's safe and well, on enjoying Daryl's attentions, on seeing them together, that you haven't thought about it again.

You're a little embarrassed and afraid, to tell you the truth, you were the one who kissed him, in a moment when you got carried away by your emotions. You don't know if Daryl feels the same way. Neither of you have acted strangely after that day, Daryl has continued to treat you as usual, you're not sure if that's a good thing or if he just doesn't care, or doesn't want to care, wanting you to understand that he doesn't want anything to do with you in that sense.

You are confused.

You go home after going to see Olivia that morning, Hope is starting to try some things other than feeding her milk, you have gone to get some fruit to make some puree or smoothies for your little girl. When you enter the living room of the house you discover Daryl playing with the little girl, he is lying on the floor lifting her up in the air, Hope doesn't stop laughing and brace and you smile, the first time Daryl did that didn't go well, Hope had just eaten and when he lifted her up and moved her in the air she ended up vomiting on the archer's chest. Daryl learned that if he wanted to play with Hope like that he had to do it before the baby ate or at least two hours later, so as not to get any unpleasant surprises.

You watch the scene in silence, Daryl is totally oblivious to your presence, all his attention focused on the little one in his arms, whom he rocks and swings in the air and then picks her up and brings her close to his face, biting her chubby cheeks or rubbing her nose. Hope is delighted with all the attention Daryl is showering on her and her squeals of excitement and amusement make you laugh.

Daryl slowly sits up, resting the baby against his chest, smiles at you and sits down on the floor, he sits Hope on his lap and the baby squeals and stretches her hands out to you when she sees you. You have never felt that your daughter prefers Daryl to you, you have never felt that your bond with your baby is not as strong as their and gestures like that prove it to you every day. Still smiling you walk over to them and kneel down kissing her cheek and holding her in your arms. Daryl watches you chewing on his lip, one hand stroking your little girl's hair.

"G'mornin'." He says to you with a growl in his voice.

"Good morning, did Hope wake you up?"

"Nah, I noticed when ya woke up this mornin'." He explains to you matter-of-factly as he shrugs.

That's one of the other things you've accepted naturally, you and Daryl sleep together in your bed, both of you attentive to any movement of Hope in her crib, you sleep together and some nights Daryl even cuddles you and you snuggle against his body.

But you've never really talked about it.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"No worries, what did ya bring?" he asks you curiously looking at the bags you put down to get Hope.

"Some food for us and fruit for Hope, the moms have given me some idea to prepare for her." You explain and hand it back to her, Hope sits on Daryl's lap and he holds her hands, but gluing her to his chest so she wouldn't fall. "I'm going to leave this in the kitchen, I'll be right back." You tell him and leave him alone in the living room again.

From the kitchen you listen to the small conversation Hope has with Daryl, the little girl barely mumbles words and squeaks, but nothing makes too much sense, however Daryl gives her his full attention and answers her when she seems to want to know his opinion. When you return to them, you sit down on the floor as well and Daryl brings Hope back to you, it's time to eat and you're surprised she hasn't protested about it yet.

"Babba!" the little girl shouts waving her arms at Daryl and you both freeze. "Babba!"

Daryl's face transforms into a nervous and worried grimace, Hope seems to sense his unease and she herself becomes a little uncomfortable. You manage to calm her in your arms and lift up your shirt. Daryl then stands up to give you privacy, he always does when you're ready to get a breast out in front of him, but he never moves too far away, he just doesn't look.

When you finish feeding her, you put her down on her playpen in the living room and walk over to Daryl, he's still nervous, biting his thumbnail, he looks sideways at you and lowers his head as if he feels ashamed of something he's done.

But Daryl has done nothing wrong.

"Daryl, listen..."

"I'm sorry..."

"Hey, don't..." You walk up to him and hold his hand squeezing it between yours. "Don't apologize, you have nothing to apologize for..."

"I'm ain't his father..." He whispers and tries to let go, but you grip him tighter.

"You're not?" You ask him back with a small smile. "I think we need to talk..." You tell him and you see him fidget nervously. "I love that you take care of Hope, it's wonderful to see you two together, but I have to ask you..."

"Y'know what I mean."

"You may not be her biological father, Daryl, but you've taken care of her since day one, even before she was born." You smile caressing her cheek. "If you just want to be her Uncle Daryl, it will be, but if you wanted to..." You blush now at the thought.

"Ain't wanna she thinks I replaced his father..."

"And she won't think that, when she's old enough to understand I'll tell her about her father, what he was like, who he was. But none of that will change what you mean to her."

"Ain't wanna her to hate me..."

"For God's sake Daryl, that's impossible, she adores you." You laugh softly and he smiles because he knows it's true. "There is a perfect bond between you, since day one and I would like it not to be lost, I know Hope will learn countless things with you, that she will never feel unprotected or insecure..."

"And ya?" Daryl hushes your words, his eyes fixed on you now. "W-what's goin' on between ya and me...?"

"That I don't know... I kissed you months ago, when Hope was born and... and you've never said anything..."

"I-I didn't... I didn't know..." He mumbles, lowering his head again.

Since he accidentally fell into your house, Daryl has never had a problem talking to you, he's always been straightforward and calm, but now he's a nervous wreck. He's not used to dealing with situations like this and even seems overwhelmed by the whole situation. He's not able to put it into words, but it's obvious that he has feelings for you too. You smile and move in again, kissing him very slowly. Daryl takes a few seconds before he responds, kissing you intensely, holding you by the back of the neck, pressing your bodies together, making you gasp into his mouth.

"Babba!" you hear across the room and the two of you break apart. "Babba!"

"I think someone needs you." You laugh against his lips. " go, I'm going to fix something to eat."

"Okay." He nods his head.

You watch as he turns away from you to walk back into the living room where Hope screams and laughs at the discovery of him, Daryl says something to her that you don't quite make out, but you smile anyway heading back into the kitchen.

A warm feeling settles in your chest.

"Babba!"

***

I hope you liked it!!

Him

He couldn’t help but laugh when she dramatically flopped back onto the bed and sighed, “Ugh, I’m so tired!”

And as soon as he did crack up, she was quick to toss back, “Daryl darling, are you teasing me?”

But the pout she was giving him wasn’t serious, a fact proven by her wink as she flipped onto her stomach.

“Oof, apologies, my sweet,” she exclaimed before readjusting so she wasn’t directly on her stomach. “Can’t lay like that anymore, I suppose.”

“Y’okay?” he quickly checked, forgetting all about buttoning his shirt back up to jog over and kneel beside the bed.

“We’re fabulous, don’t you worry.” She hummed and gave him a look he’d very happily grown familiar with. “You’re so sexy when you get all concerned about us,” she purred, and reached out to lightly drag her fingers through his hair to pull him close.

Yeah, that was another thing about her being five months along.

Her own exact words regarding it were: “Lordy, every time I look at you, I want to yank your jeans down, mount you, and have at it.”

His cheeks got all warm as he remembered that particular afternoon. Both because he was currently (rapidly) getting in the mood as he felt her kissing his neck, but also because of the memory itself.

She’d accidentally said that—yes, that, the whole quote, word-for-word—right in earshot of most of the group.

Tara and Glenn were fucking rolling, and he’d never seen Abraham get so red as he wheezed alongside Carol and Rick. Even the reverend guy—sorry, ‘Father Gabriel’—coughed awkwardly to try and hide his laughter from his spot in the corner.

Then Carl had come downstairs wanting to know what was so funny, and for some reason, Eugene had actually started to repeat the damn thing.

Luckily, Michonne spoke up louder, wiping her eyes as she told Carl that “Y/N was being funny about her hormonal changes.”

“You know how I have a flair for the theatric, sweet boy,” she’d told the kid with a wave of her hand and a shrug of her shoulders, even while covering her eyes in embarrassment and trying not to giggle.

Meanwhile in real time, his wife was very effectively getting ready for another round.

He wasn’t complaining.

By then on top of him, she breathed into his ear, “Don’t worry, handsome, I won’t keep you too long.”

His hands were on her beautiful curves, savoring every inch. “Keep me all day, gorgeous, I won’t mind,” he managed to murmur back.

She hummed. Tossed her hair in that confident way he loved so much, and gave him a wicked little smile that turned him on like nothing else. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

You

He’s always so tender afterward. Even after you two ‘have fun’ in a less-than-tender place.

Mmm, like when you’d done it against the back wall of the house that time...or the other time...or that time in the garage on the work bench...or that time on his bike behind the building during that supply run...or the other time...or when...

Lordy, you had no idea how wildly randy you’d be at this point in your pregnancy. Granted, you’d been pregnant just about as long as you two have been physical. Honeymoon baby. When Maggie had correctly guessed the news, she’d playfully lauded your efficiency.

Anyway, for the past several weeks, you swear it’s as if you’re insatiable! In your defense, Denise said it’s entirely normal at this stage.

And, in your defense, your husband is exceedingly sexy, truly a work of art.

The thing that knocks your socks off is the fact that he’s only been at this for five months. He was a remarkable student. And just so...attentive. Generous, you might add.

And it’s so deliciously sweet that whenever you try to praise him about it, he shakes his head and mumbles that “You’re the one who showed me the ropes.”

You gaze down at him sleepily as you lay in bed together. His bare back with his scars and tattoos is showing the rise and fall of his breathing. His legs are barely covered by the sheet, likewise that stunning behind of his. And those strong arms you love to look at so much are draped around you.

You can’t get enough of this, how soft he becomes after. Pun not entirely intended...

And you’d be content to have him keep resting his head against your waist as you play with his messy, messy hair all day. His messy, sexy, rugged, masculine, even a little dirty hair—Lordy, you two only finished a several minutes ago and here you are gearing up again.

How can you be so exhausted and yet so ready to tumble again? You’d thought food cravings and some emotional ups and downs would be the standout of this adventure. Well, you certainly were mistaken.

Instead, you’re very tired and so very, very liable to get aroused.

So tired today, in fact, that you may even possibly, potentially, only maybe...

Oh, there’s no use in denying it: you’re too tired to go on the supply run today. Just thinking about it, you’re almost in tears at the idea of walking up all the steps and packing up boxes of books to lug back.

But you’re equally in near-tears at the thought that you won’t be doing so.

The supply run is to a library this time!

Well, it’s really to a fairly unpicked urgent care clinic abutting a dentistry office, but it’s a block away from a library! Your favorite place! And because you’re so thoroughly tired, all you want to do other than make out with your husband is read, which is just another reason you were so looking forward to going.

Worth a mention is that it’s high time this place had its book collection tended to.

C’est la vie, you suppose. This exhaustion is only temporary.

“What was that sigh for, gorgeous?” your hear him ask you softly as he kisses your stomach and finds your hand to take into his. You could feel the rumble of his voice reverberate through your body from where his lay pressed against yours.

“I’m just being a little dramatic. I’m not looking forward having to get up and put on clothes. Then, the thought of carrying of all those books back to the tru—”

“—Still can’t believe Denise ain’t barred you from doin’ stuff like that,” he grunts to himself, his hand now absently drawing lines on your thigh.

You gave an indignant hmph, then reminded him with a kiss on his head that “It’s considered safe because I’m not adding any strenuous new activities, only maintaining what my body is used to.” You take his hand into yours and bring it to your lips. “And I’m far enough along that it isn’t a big concern.”

Another kiss, then you rest his hand on your breast for safekeeping. “Plus, I’m not lifting as much as I used to,” you add.

His thumb begins to move gently back and forth over it. “And you've been real excited to get more books.”

“Have I ever. I miss my book collection so much. It was fabulous, Daryl.”

Among your collection, you’d had all of Austen, all of the Brönte sisters, all of L.M. Montgomery’s Anne of Green Gables, an original copy of ‘To Kill a Mockingbird,’ and only the fancy-bound variety of Shakespeare’s plays plus a signed (signed!) copy of “I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings.”

You especially miss the book your mom gifted to you. It was an Evelyn Stuart Hardy illustrated edition from the 1910s of Jane Eyre, your absolute favorite book in the world! It reminded you of her like nothing else...it had been her favorite book, and your granny’s, too.

You’d packed it up and kept it with you after the world fell. It was still with you after most everything else you’d had was stolen.

Until you’d ultimately had to burn it during the winter, when you were still alone.

Not a day later is when you’d run into Beth at the stream. That’s when she brought you to Daryl, and just like that, they brought you into the group. The rest is history, but how you kicked yourself for burning it.

Straightening your posture even while reclining, you push your shoulders back and remind yourself that you made a necessary decision. You’d needed the warmth.

“The shelves here are woefully understocked, darling, and there are plenty of houses to fill up,” you begin to tell Daryl. “I was saying to Deanna just the other day how perhaps we could transform one of the empty ones into an entertainment venue of sorts, keep morale up. Library on the top floor—very convenient if one wishes to browse the stacks with her very handsome, work-of-art husband in private,” you hint.

Does he realize what he’s doing as he rubs his thumb over your breast back and forth like that? Eyeing him, you continue. “A movie theater type room on the bottom or perhaps in the basement, a gaming room, a music room, an art room with supplies in the attic!” You’re getting excited again just picturing it! “Wouldn’t that be so fabulous?”

You hum at the thought, then look down to find him gazing at you with the most...“Daryl? Please don’t look so utterly in love with me, you know how your being in love with me turns me on. And I might mention what you’re doing with my nipple?”

Him

He couldn’t help but snort again—and he stopped doing that thing with his thumb, obviously.

“Your being in love with me turns me on.” Hell yeah he was in love with her, it was impossible not to be. Other than being entertaining as fuck, her confidence and endless optimism had its own gravitational pull, she was smart, caring, and—shit—so damn attractive. And she liked him! That was the craziest part of it.

He’d probably let himself fall for her ever since that time she’d kissed him on the cheek at the outdoor goods place a year or so back.

It was either then or when he’d finally seen her again, after Terminus. It was because of what she’d said that made him finally realize it.

The words hadn’t even been to him, they’d been to Carol. “Alright now, you. Get yourself over there and hug your best friend. He’s missed you.” Those words, weird as it might seem, that was what made him see it.

That realization had been scary enough, so just imagine how he felt next. Her first words to him were spoken softly, so only he could hear.

“Daryl Dixon, I would like to marry you someday.”

And then she’d kissed him as if there was nobody else there at all.

Yeah. He's just glad that sometime after finding the reverend guy—sorry, ‘Father Gabriel’— that he’d gotten brave enough to finally bring up what she’d said. As much as he hated himself at that point in time, he felt safe enough with her that he couldn’t not ask. There was too much risk of losing her again.

“Y’know that thing you said? Before you kissed me that time, Y/N?”

“Which time, handsome?”

His pulse had been going hog wild. “...When I finally saw ya again.”

She’d smiled through her exhaustion, so much like that first day he’d met her. Winked at him.

“That was a very nice one, I must admit.”

And that’s when her eyes grew wide as she’d remembered exactly what she’d said before she’d done so, as well as noticed that he was nervously looking back and forth from her to the reverend guy.

“Oh!”

The morning they’d woken up in the barn after surviving that hurricane was almost when they’d gotten hitched. Almost; Aaron had showed up, though, so it got pushed back only until the group decided to go to Alexandria.

At that decision, she saw no reason to wait any longer. Neither did he.

“It’s just a pity we’ll need to wait until I can lay you down and show you my ‘form and function,’” she’d lightly teased in his ear as she wiped her tears away, fully aware that that time might never actually happen.

For all they knew, their marriage could have been as short as only that day, depending on what lay ahead in that place.

But, turns out, Alexandria was safe. A good place.

So, two days in, she’d brought him to a bedroom in the quiet part of the house, and...showed him the ropes.

And now, he and she had a kid. Honeymoon baby. He was so fucking excited about it.

Denise said in a month or two is when he’d be able to finally feel them kicking around in there.

“So, you’re tryin’ to bring home just how many books today?” he asked Y/N, scooching up from his nook against her waist so he could hold her in his arms. “The whole damn library’s worth?” he teased.

“I would have endeavored to make a dent, perhaps.” Was it his imagination or did she sound disappointed?

“Would have?”

She pulled his arm around her tighter. “I’m just too tired, darling,” she admitted quietly. So that was why she was down.

He curved his body against hers and breathed in the smell of her hair. He didn’t like it when she was down, seemed unnatural. “It won’t be the last time we go.”

“Certainly not. Sasha, Olivia, and myself were calculating just how many trips we might need to take to get enough volumes. Final estimation was three.”

The way she announced that made him grin. “But you had your hopes on comin’ today,” he stated more than asked as he wove his fingers in between hers.

“I did. Libraries and auditoriums are my favorite places. And, it’s simply been a while since I’ve ventured outside the walls. Well,” she considered. “Other than to check on sweet little Enid, she’s quite the escape artist.”

“What kinds of books were you gonna bring back?” he wanted to know. Because he was fixing to bring back every dang one.

But he felt her make a shrug as if it were unimportant, and then she waved it off. “I made a list, it’s on the kitchen island or the coffee table, if I recall.” It was kinda cute that she thought she could fool him into not knowing when she was disappointed.

“What are some of the things on it?” he pressed, gently caressing her belly.

He felt her shrug again. “The useful parts of the reference and how-to sections, especially agricultural ones for Maggie. Oh, and you’ll notice a note regarding a pasta-making book for Shelly.”

She shook her head in amusement. “I appreciate generous helping of homemade linguini myself, so why she hasn’t simply made some by hand to enjoy is beyond me. You simply roll it out flat and slice it, easy as can be, no machine required.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

He moved back so she could turn and face him. “What else?” Come on, tell me what you want, gorgeous.

“Nothing, that’s all it takes to make homemade pasta.”

He grumbled only a little. “I meant the books, Y/N.”

She gave him another playful pout, then went on. “The teens and children here need some new reading material. Glenn will know which comic books are best, and he knows what Carl’s into. Oh, and our sweet Beth adored choose-you-own-adventures, so the kids will really enjoy those, if you find any.”

Fuck. He winced when she mentioned her name. That poor fucking girl. Losing her had been like losing Sophia all over again, but somehow worse because that time, it was undeniably his fau—

“—I can feel where your mind has gone, and as your wife would ask you to not think those things about yourself,” she told him firmly.

And after pressing a delicate kiss to his cheek and reminding him that she loved him, she resumed telling him more about the list.

“Tara could use one or two or several books on tape. She enjoys real histories, but reading is off limits until her concussion is healed more, so she was lamenting the other day. She’s bored to tears and going stir crazy.”

“I would be, too. Must suck.”

“There’s C.S. Lewis for Father Gabriel, ‘The Art of Peace’ for Morgan so he can have a backup copy. Carol and Rick enjoy Agatha Christie, Rick prefers her Poirot series. And Rosita has been very down, as you know, but she once mentioned a joke Fluffy told, so if the DVD section had any of Gabriel Iglesias’ stand-up specials, I was going to take them.”

Was Y/N gonna say what she wanted, though? 

“And um,” She giggled and shook her head. “I was more of going to tease Eugene by taking him home an entire encyclopedia. Oh, and I just found out that Michonne is a fan of cozy mysteries, too! I thought she’d be more the Stephen King variety, but no.”

Okay, finally something Y/N was into: cozy mysteries. Cozy mysteries...um...“What are cozy mysteries?”

“They’re in the mystery section—”

“—Stop,” he snorted.

“In the mystery section, but you’ll know them by their absolutely fabulous titles. They’re all puns!”

Puns. Okay. Um… “W-what kind of puns?”

“I’ve read a lobster shack themed one with the title ‘Drawn and Buttered,’ and Scotland themed one called ‘Under Loch and Key,’ so on so forth.”

Huh. Interesting. He’d bring back some if he could find them, he guessed. Sounds kinda cute.

“Tell me about what you want.”

Believe it or not, she’d somehow managed to toss her hair while laying there, then angled herself to look at his face.

“I was, handsome.” She winked. “Though...”

You

You feel bad for relaying your list of things to Daryl as if he were a servant or as if you were a woman who thoughtlessly ordered her man about.

Maybe it’s your pride speaking, but having him search around for your favorite book(s) is a little too much for you to accept when you’re still so disappointed that you can’t go yourself.

You’re used to being very physically strong, so this stage of exhaustion is a change you’d prefer to ease into, rather than dive into. And you hypothesize that your beloved Jane Eyre would say the same.

“C’mon, let me bring you back at least one book. Just one, gorgeous?”

...You suppose you can mention your genre of choice, at least, especially when he’s asking so earnestly.

“If you bring me back a nice, clean historical romance, I won’t object. Please steer clear of the harlequin section, darling.”

“Done,” he’s quick to announce. Until he sounds confused as he repeats, “Harlequin?”

“The bodice rippers,” you clarify.

“Bodice-rippers.”

You smile, and twist your body so it’s once again flush to his, lay his hand on the spot where your neck and shoulder meet, then arch your back and stick our your chest to make a pose.

“The books covers look somewhat like this, only the woman would have a gown or nightdress on rather than be completely in the nude.” With a light peck to his jaw, you simply must mention next, “And the man on the cover won’t look nearly as delicious as you.”

Which is of course why you next hear “Daryl! Y/N!” called from the main floor.

Him

“We’re coming, Abe! Allow us a moment,” Y/N shouted back.

“Golly, don’t tell us exactly what you two are up to!” was the undeniable voice of Carol that echoed next through the house, as did a very loud blast of laughter from Abraham. What are they, thirteen?

At least his wife thought it was funny. She’d even clapped.

“We were discussing literature, you! Keep your minds out of the gutter!” Y/N cracked up as she called back.

So, he groaned and got himself off the bed, threw his clothes back on quickly, and helped her get hers on. She’d almost fallen back asleep when he was looking for her socks.

Denise said how tired she felt was normal, though, as was the...other thing she was experiencing.

He thought it was gonna be cravings and throwing up like women had on like TV and shit, but nah, just sore boobs and being sleepy in the beginning, and now real sleepy and real horny were how it was going for Y/N.

It was good she was gonna stay home today. He was getting more and more uncomfortable with the thought of her going outside the walls too far with or without him. After what happened to Noah on that supply run, he just...

But he didn’t want to seem controlling or over-protective, so he tried not to protest too much. And she was just so damned excited about the library run, how could he tell her he didn’t like her wanting to haul boxes of books around?

Well, he thanked whoever was up there that she was too tired today.

Plus, now he got to surprise her!

Because fuck yeah, he knew exactly what book he was gonna bring her. It didn’t hit him at first, but he knew the perfect one.

Like, obviously he was gonna grab all the books and stuff on that list, but first thing he was gonna find was that one.

He’d read it in high school. Loved it. Reread it. Reread it again.

Got a good-ass grade on a report about it, too. Did it again the following year, wrote a whole new report and got a good-ass grade on that as well!

He didn’t even realize it was considered a chick book until some asshole made fun of him for it.

Well, fuck that guy, ’cause that book was the shit. And it was an autobiography, the idiot.

And just because it was kinda romantic and the main character was a girl didn’t make it ‘just’ a chick book.

Nah: it was about a kid who wasn’t really loved or treated well, who grows up and tries to stay decent but doesn’t really know what she wants to do, only what’s been kinda laid out for her.

She’s got big balls, a backbone, and the story ends up being a mystery wrapped in a drama and all of it ties together because she makes peace with her family and discovers a new one, then makes one of her own!

Who wouldn’t like that shit?

And, okay, this is dumb, but it was also really funny how the writer used the word ‘ejaculated’ in like every damn chapter. Not one time did that word mean what that word usually means, either.

The first time he saw the word just chilling there in an otherwise normal book, he almost snarfed up the beer he’d snuck into school he was laughing so hard.

Anyway, it was called “Jane Eyre: An Autobiography” and it was fucking amazing. And because it’s set like way back when and there’s a love story without tits in it, that’s fits the criteria of a clean historical romance, right?

Y/N was gonna love it so damn much. He almost asked her if she’d read it already, but decided he’d make it a surprise. There was some fancy wrapping paper he’d seen in Eric and Aaron’s garage, so he was gonna wrap it up all nice, too.

Such a fucking good book.

You

Maggie was a doll and made you a cup of your favorite wild mint tea while you were in the midst of sniffling on the couch about the supply runners having left.

That poor, sweet boy Sam came over shortly thereafter, and you were going to play Mario Party with him like you’d promised, but ended up falling asleep again. You awoke on the couch to find Sam sitting by you, albeit on the floor, between the recliner and the wall, reading The Phantom Tollbooth.

“I read that one when I was your age! Please lend it to me when you’re finished, I’d adore to take that adventure again!” you gushed.

He’s coming out of his shell more and more, but it’s very slow-going. You suppose that with a father like his, it was only natural, even if the man was dead now.

But today, Sam was comfortable enough to smile and start to tell you about his favorite parts of the book, which was excellent.

What’s also excellent is that you falling asleep while he was there seemed to have encouraged Carol to make cookies for him. It was plain to see that she was trying to keep the boy at arm’s length.

She’s terrified of becoming attached to another child for whom she condemns herself inadequate to care for. Her wounds run deep, especially in terms of Sam; she sees parts of herself in his mother.

So, that she gave in and baked for him and didn’t immediately kick him out once you’d accidentally taken a nap was a good sign.

The cookies were fabulous, by the way, and with the mint tea, it made the chocolate (chocolate!) rations taste that much better.

After that, you went on wall duty so you’d be somewhat productive today.

Your official job assigned by Deanna was as a recruiter of sorts; ease newcomers into life here, and go with Aaron, Eric or Daryl when pertinent to talk to survivors.

Only thing was, you hadn’t gotten any new survivors yet, so wall duty and supply running and some babysitting was what filled your days.

But it is nice that yours and your husband’s jobs are connected. He recruits, you welcome.

“Say, sheriff, what time is it?” you called down when you saw Rick taking Judith for a walk.

He looked at his watch. “They’ll be back in about two hours, Y/N,” he let you know you with a smile.

The thought of waiting two more hours got you weepy again.

Although, maybe you could manage to squeeze in another nap after your shift was over.

Him

The place had like 7 copies of that book! Would it be a dick move to take all of them?

Fine, it would. Okay, he’d just take...four—no, three. He shouldn’t be greedy.

That new-looking one was a no-brainer, so that one was coming. Aw shit, and that one had a creepy cover. That one was his, he called dibs. But it was as he was walking past a glass case display that he saw a final copy.

He slid the case open, took it...shit, it’s a really old one. Book people like old copies, don’t they? Aw shit, it’s got pictures in it, too? Damn, these are good-ass drawings.

This is the one. It’s perfect.

Once those were tucked away safely, Glenn helped him find all the other things on her list.

Meanwhile, the rest of the supply runners browsed for stuff like zip ties, tape, and toilet paper, and were getting very distracted by all the books and magazines. And since there weren’t that many walkers in there, it was a good time.

He even remembered the title of the other book he’d ever really liked. It was another he’d read in school, called ‘The Giver.’ He liked that one because the kid mans up big-time and saves the baby’s life. Carl would probably like it, so he packed that up, too.

Then, Glenn popped up from the books-on-tape and DVD section and held out what might have well been a gold bar. Turns out, the British made a whole damn TV series about Jane Eyre six-ish years ago, and this library had the box set.

“My baby sister loved this one. She was in the stage version of it in high school,” Glenn shared with him quietly. “It’ll be nice to watch it again, and Mags will enjoy it.” He coughed a little. What was that smirk for? “That is, if it won’t be intruding on you and Y/N’s private time.”

“Shut up.”

You

...zzz…zzz…zzz...zzz...

Him

It was fine, he could wait until morning. Unless she woke up and wanted a really late supper or something...?

...But Y/N was sleeping like a log.

He slumped his shoulders.

Denise insisted that his wife was fine, checked her blood pressure, all that. He’d been real worried, is all.

Y/N did give him a “Why hello there, Daryl darling” when Denise woke her up to check on her, but she went right back to sleep after, and very happily, by the looks of it.

He knew she needed the rest, but he was also bummed that she was asleep when he got back. Really disappointed, but it ain’t like it was her fault. She had their baby in there, that’s gotta take a lot out of somebody.

He looked at the wrapped present on the nightstand. Eric did him a solid by finding a bow for it.

Then he looked at the copy of Jane Eyre he’d decided to keep as his own, the one with the spooky cover.

And then he felt only moderately like a dick for being excited that he could crack it open and reread it without any interruptions.

Like a kid finding a toy they thought they’d lost, he opened it up, flipped to the first chapter.

Oh yeah, there was the good stuff: “There was no possibility of taking a walk that day.”

That’s right, no long walk for you today, Jane, you get a break. Don’t worry, kid, I remember: you don’t like long, chilly walks ’cause it makes your toes too cold. I don’t like cold toes, neither, that shit ain’t no fun. Just sucks that your dickhead cousin is about to fuck shit up. It’ll be okay, you’ll get out of there.

Okay, kid, let’s see if we can’t get you out of Gateshead by the time I need to hit the sack...

You

When you woke up at 2:32 a.m. and needed to use the facilities like nothing else, you only knew that your husband was asleep in his clothes beside you on the bed, and that he’d apparently borrowed your booklight.

This didn’t phase you, and you went about using the toilet, washing your hands and face, brushing your teeth, and primping your hair as you normally would before bed.

What you learned after you came back was that he’d fallen asleep reading (and had rolled onto the paperback slightly).

That hadn’t happened yet in all five months you’d shared a bed and all of the two years give or take that you’d known him. It was also quite alluring to you, to say the least, and you felt delighted to have found one more thing to love about him as you grabbed the glass of water on the nightstand and took a few gulps.

But what made your panties liable to fall off right then and there was that he’d fallen asleep while reading your favorite book.

Jane Eyre!

Still floored and frozen in place when his groggy “Hey” reaches your ears, you blink out of it, remember to swallow the gulp of water that you’d forgotten about in your shock, and smile back at him.

“Good evening, Daryl,” you are able to respond, returning your glass to the nightstand and crawling back onto the bed.

He’s got an arm around your waist in seconds and has his lips on yours right after. “How you feelin’, gorgeous?”

You make the executive decision to crawl onto his lap and straddle his hips rather than crawl to your side of the bed.

“I’m feeling fabulous.”

“You hungry? I can go grab food, there’s leftover—”

“—Stay here with me, sweet man.”

“Done.” It was dark, but you could see a lazy, shy grin light up his face nonetheless. “I, um, brought ya back somethin’.”

But before he could say or do anything else, you have to kiss him again. And a second time. Might as well do a third for good measure. And by  the third, you realize: he brought you ‘back’ something, not brought you ‘up’ something.

As in, he alluded to having brought something home, not to him having brought a snack upstairs earlier, as you initially thought he’d meant.

“You brought me back something from the supply run, you mean? Other than yourself alive and well?” you coo, nuzzling his neck, content to simply feel his heart beating against yours.

That explains that copy of Jane Eyre. How on earth he knew that was your favorite, you cannot fathom. Unless Carol remembered and told him at some point?

He must have been trying to read it before giving it to you so he’d be able to talk about it.

Your kisses get more frantic.

“Babe, hold up, let me grab the damn thing,” he giggles as you kiss that ticklish spot by his ear.

“It’s right here, handsome,” you let him know, intending to lean back and grab the book for him. That is, until he presents to you a lovely little wrapped gift with a bow on it.

What on earth?

Him

The surprised look on her face was reward enough, and she hadn’t even unwrapped it yet!

She looked almost bashful (Y/N, bashful! That in itself was something!) as she unseated herself from his lap and settled down beside him, taking the package and turning it over in her hands.

“I sense a book in here, I’m already thrilled,” she told him, and looked back into his eyes with that same surprised, almost kinda confused expression.

Finally, she began to unwrap it, so he was finally able to start telling her all about it.

“It’s this really old copy of this book. The story is damn good, I’m tellin’ ya. I even, um...” he trailed off. Shit.

All she was doing was staring at it. Hadn’t even unwrapped it fully.

Why was she just staring at it? Oh shit, and she’s crying. Shit, man. He knew she was hormonal and stuff, but shit, um, okay, what could he do to fix this? What did he do to cause it, though? He was such a fuck up—WHOA, never mind, now her lips were on his.

Kissing her was one of his favorite things, sure, but now he was the kinda confused one. She was crying while she was kissing him.

Over a book?

“Gorgeous, hey. Tell me what’s wrong,” he murmured into her ear when she stopped for air.

In response, she looked at him as if he’d just spoken gibberish.

“Wrong? Abs—absolutely nothing is wrong, you sweet, silly man!” She sniffed again and wiped her eyes before hugging the book to herself. She started kissing him again, too.

He was trying to gather the wherewithal to pull away and ask her again what was going on, buuuut he didn’t want to, not when kissing her was one of the best damn things.

Lucky for him, she ended up pulling back.

“Darling?” She broke out into that gorgeous smile and rested her forehead on his. “I had this exact edition. My, my mother bought it for me as a college graduation present,” she explained, slightly out of breath as she sat back up. “These are happy tears, don’t worry. Though, maybe a few unhappy tears because I miss her and dad but, oh my goodness, I’m so... I feel like I’ve got a piece of her back!”

For all that she just spilled, the best he could do was blink and ask “This same one?”

“The Collins Clear Press, E. Stuart Hardy Illustrated Edition. Oh, Daryl, I am feeling so many things right now!” She hugged it to herself again and sighed. “I had every work of the Brönte sisters, but no less than five copies of Jane Eyre. It’s my all time favorite.”

Okay. Okay, he felt better. So much damn better, shit.

But just to make sure, he had to check, “You like it?”

Yet another kiss was her first answer, followed by “Darling, I adore it.”

She then swallowed and pushed her hair behind her ears. Exhaled heavily, then drew herself onto her knees and—oh, okay, lovin’ this—straddled him again.

“Now, if you’re up for it, handsome, I would like to make very slow, long, drawn-out love to you?”

He made an unintentional groan by way of response, his jeans were getting tight. Oh right, he forgot to put bed stuff on. Pajamas, whatever you call them.

To which Y/N bit her lip and laughed softly. Tossed her hair the way she knew he loved so damn much. “But before I relieve us of our clothing, first I would like to know the mystery behind this.”

She leaned back to grab something…

Oh, his book. She’d grabbed his copy of—aw shit, had he fallen asleep on it? The pages got all bent.

Damn.

You

“If I have this copy, what is this one?”

“That one’s mine,” he tells you shyly. Or maybe he wasn’t speaking shyly as much as he’s getting out of breath because you’re lightly grinding your pelvis over his.

“You have your own copy, Daryl.” Not a question, more of a declaration, but you’re just proud you managed not to moan as you said it. Cool down, mama, let the man talk, you remind yourself.

“Just got it today. I took,” He cracked up and bowed his head as if embarrassed. “I took three of them. The old one was for you, there was a new one that I figured could go in your library, and that one I wanted to keep for me, I dunno.”

Perhaps you’re panting a little right now...“Oh, I think you do know,” you whisper back, endeavoring to slow yourself down. “Now, please tell me how on earth you came to want a copy of your own?”

He makes a shy little shrug. “It’s a good story. The book, I mean. I just, um, read it a bunch of times back in high school—mm, fuck!” he lets out an appreciative groan after you can’t help but buck your hips.

Ah, it's about time his hands found their way under your shirt.

“But, um, yeah, I just really liked it. ’Specially for an autobiography, those are usually so damn borin’—h-hot damn, Y/N,” he chokes out. Okay, you may have done that one on purpose...

You help him take your shirt off. “Everything that is coming out of your mouth, darling, is making me so hot.”

“I h-had a hunch,” he murmurs back with what’s almost a self-satisfied chuckle.

“May I finish removing your clothes, Mr. Dixon?

“Yes, ma’am.”

You’ll tell him that the book is entirely fictional and not really an autobiography later, because right now, you need to press your lips to his along with everywhere else that you can on his body.

Him

Judith was up real early today, he heard her squealing. She was almost walking on her own now, ain’t that wild?

Call him soft if you want, but he was so damn excited that another one was gonna be running around with her soon enough. His own kid, too, how insane was that? And maybe Glenn and Maggie would finally have one, too...

Hot damn, was he feeling soft this morning.

Kinda hard not to be. Y/N was still fast asleep with one thigh wrapped around his middle—oh, he’d just made a pun, didn’t he? Hard-not-to-be-soft. Wait, was that a pun or something else?

Y/n would know, is she awake yet? He looked away from the pages to check on her.

Nah, she’s still asleep. And shit, man, she was damn gorgeous whatever she was doing, just look at her.

Anyway, while his wife was still recharging and while neither of them had to get up just yet, he had gotten Jane all the way through her boarding school years and she’d just met the kid she was nannying.

It’s cool that this copy had footnotes, because he’d forgotten what the stuff the little French girl spoke meant. How do you even pronounce that stuff?

You

As you stretch awake, you have to make a little mmhm in appreciation.

“The first thing I see when I wake up is my husband reading our favorite book. Today’s going to be a very good day, I can tell.” You’re still exhausted today, but that’s alright.

The corners of his mouth prick up and his cheeks redden. “The first thing I got to see was you naked, so it’s already a real good one.”

Oh, how fabulous! He isn’t usually as forward as that, even in private. You’d say he even sounded proud of himself, which is in itself a triumph.

And after last night, oh, he has every right to be proud.

You reach behind you to grab your water glass from the nightstand and take a long, refreshing sip, then hop out of bed and saunter your way to the bathroom. Slowly.

When you turn your head back, you’re pleased to see him staring and adjusting his legs to hide the excitement you just caused.

After freshening up and using the toilet, you slip on some clean undies and pajamas, then pick up the copy he’d given you and clutch it to your chest before snuggling back into bed with him.

“So, how far did we get this morning?”

“Jane just asked Mrs. Thornfield-lady is there are any ghost stories about the mansion they live in.”

“Getting to the juicy parts.”

“Hell yeah.”

“Are you meant to head out again today for your official job?”

After a signature grumble, he closes the book and pulls you to him closer. “Can I bring this with me?”

“I won’t snitch that you’re reading while you’re out there.”

“I meant you, Y/N.” He pauses. “But I should take the book, too, s’good idea,” he grunts, almost as if to himself.

You lightly kiss his cheek. “Let’s get up, sweet man. All three of us need breakfast, and you, as much as I hate to say it, need to put on,” you roll your eyes and sigh in mock-disgust. “Clothes.”

Him

Not that he was good at it, but he was doing his best to try and flirt with her. She deserved all that romantic stuff. Part of him was just still in shock that she was into him at all.

“You sure you want me to put clothes on?” he teased under his breath. That was flirting, right?

He nervously glanced over and saw that she seemed to enjoy it. “I certainly do not. But I have something in mind for later. Would you like to hear what it is?”

Try to sound manly for her and shit.

“Y-yeah.”

Way to go.

“As soon as we’re both home, I would like to bring you back here...” Her fingers were trailing down his chest...then down his stomach…

...to where his book lay in his hands, upon which she tossed her hair and asked in the cutest damn way possible: “Then we can read for a few hours?” 

He didn’t expect her to go in that direction, and he was so damn in love with that woman at that moment he thought he’d fucking burst.

“That sounds perfect, gorgeous,” he chuckled. “It’s a damn good book.”

She bit her lip and and giggled, taking one of his hands into hers and kissing it. "Especially for an ‘autobiography.’”

The following morning, instead of the warm touch of sunlight rousing her, the harsh wailing of an infant did instead.

It was not the first time Judith had awoken Clementine. So she didn’t jump as much this time around.

Rick was stood by the make-shift crib: the culprit for why the infant had suddenly begun to cry, roused from her sleep unwillingly. The box adorned with her scribbled name was becoming slightly too big for her, advocating both for how Clementine had already been with the group for a while now (as it had fit her perfectly at the start), and for how swiftly infants grew (and perhaps it also showed how well the group was handling taking care of an infant despite the world gone to hell).

“Sorry.”

That had been Rick’s voice: words directed both to Judith and the two roused group members sleeping on the catwalk.

He picked his infant daughter up, glancing briefly toward Clementine and Daryl stirring in their sleep. As she was lifted in the arms of an adult she recognized, Judith calmed a bit, but was still fussing and kicking and scrunching her face up in annoyance.

It was obvious that her reaction wasn’t just from being roused from her sleep: she was hungry.

Normally Daryl handled the morning feedings. Upon the cry from Judith, said archer had indeed moved to stand too. But upon seeing Rick, he’d fallen back onto his mattress and tossed an arm over his eyes to try and catch a minute or two more shuteye.

The sight of Clementine and Daryl seemed to amuse Rick, who barely ever came up those stairs at least in the morning. Lately, though, Rick seemed to take more of an interest in his baby - something was healing inside of him. Something Clementine hadn’t known was broken.

She had wondered why Daryl had had to have taken over the role of a father… but had been too shy to ever ask.

From the way Rick was taking more of an interest, though, maybe the crib would not be in Daryl’s presence for much longer. Merle would be thrilled, always complaining about the baby waking him up.

With just a foot between Clementine and Daryl, Rick turned an amused look toward the two. “What are you doing out here?”

Without a mattress, and with barely a pillow under her head, it was very uncomfortable sleeping out on the catwalk near Daryl. But, it was the only place she felt she could sleep.

“Didn’t Carol offer you a cell?”

Clementine paused before replying, in a groggy voice, “I can’t fall asleep there.”

“She’s fine ‘ere,” Daryl grunted out, arm still over his eyes.

Amused and slightly… proud? - Rick nodded his head and instead said: “Why don’t you at least move a mattress out here?”

With a little nod, Clementine agreed. It would be more comfortable.

Rick cocked his head, and she stood to follow him to her cell. With one hand, the other arm clutching Judith, Rick helped her move a mattress out onto the perch. Happily, Clementine plopped down onto the mattress, patting it all around her in a grateful and joyful gesture.

“You can keep your cell, for when you wanna sleep there anyway, or store yeh things.” Rick leaned down to pat her head, ruffling her for once exposed hair - the only time she took her hat off was when sleeping, so it wouldn’t get lost when she moved around. That hat was too important to her for her to ever lose it. “Carl, Michonne and I are getting ready to head off. There’s breakfast ready for whenever you’re hungry.”

“Gotta put that on hold, Rick,” Daryl muttered. With a slight grunt, Daryl sat up on his mattress and offered a look to Clementine.

The girl nodded her head confidently. 

“I know where Ylva’s group is at.”

“Then let’s gather the group,” Rick announced with a sudden urgency. He nodded his head at Daryl with a silent meaning which Clementine could not figure out before heading down the stairs.

She didn’t care about the hidden meaning for long though, because when Daryl turned his eyes to her once more, there was a gentle pride in his eyes. “You’re doin’ good, kid.” And honestly… as little as she knew about him, as little as he knew about her, that tiny bit of praise meant the world to her - that was how quickly she had attached herself to him. As unhealthy as that was, and as dangerous as it was in this new world, Clementine was there to stay beside Daryl.

Sprinting off to get ready for breakfast, Clementine left Daryl on his own. He stayed put on his mattress, not bothering to get cleaned up or dressed for anything anymore (why be clean when there’s an apocalypse happening outside?)… but waiting for Clementine to be ready so they could walk down together.

His eyes flickered to the mattress next to his.

Man… What kinda shit had he gotten himself into now? Caring for an infant whilst the dad got his shit together was one thing. It meant he wasn’t the sole person responsible of shaping the morals and identity of a little fragile human being. It meant it wasn’t his fault if the kid became screwed up because he could blame it on the dad leaving. But Clementine would look up to him and him alone. She’d need him to help guide her into becoming a semi decent person and Daryl…

Could he really do that? Was Daryl a semi decent person to begin with?

Maybe he ought to push her onto Glenn and Maggie instead.

…

Rick’s entire group was gathered in the dining area, breakfast served in bowls but fully ignored by all the second Daryl and Clementine had joined them.

Now, Rick was pouring over a map, eyes scanning it for the safest route. But it was difficult considering they had no information. If he went there, he would be leading part of his group into unknown territory to check out a place occupied by a group Clementine had run from, and which was clearly hostile toward others.

Was it worth it? If he went, he’d be making the remaining people left behind in the prison vulnerable to the Governor’s attacks - more vulnerable than they already were with so few fighters, and so few guns.

He rubbed a hand over his face, acutely aware of the pure silence almost suffocating him, and the stares of the others watching him, waiting for a decision, a plan... Making decisions was much harder as of late. He couldn’t trust himself. Half the time he thought he was doing the right thing, only to lose himself to delusions.

That, or he was making decisions based in dictatorship which were given responses of silent, blank faces from those he trusted the most.

From his family.

And such reactions… hurt.

The only right thing he had done as of late was let Clementine in… Despite the trouble she had brought them, as Hershel might have once said, Rick fully believed rescuing a child remained the best thing even in this world.

Said girl was sitting hunched up on a nearby bench, staring down at the floor with wide eyes. She wasn’t the greatest with having all attention be on her, and clearly this had been a difficult decision for her. This, too, confused Rick. If Clementine was scared of the group, why was she protecting them? Why was she still loyal to some of them? And would she be a flight risk because of it?

“We could go up through here?” Hershel suggested, pointing toward the map.

Rick didn’t answer Hershel’s suggestion, instead glancing back at Clementine. Next to her, Daryl stood with his arms crossed, eyes like a hawk awaiting its prey. Protective was an understatement when it came to Daryl. Especially when Clementine wasn’t feeling the greatest. Rick wondered if Daryl was even aware of what he was doing though.

“This group…” Rick straightened up and moved over to Clementine, crouching down in front of her. “Will they attack?”

Frowning, Clementine remained quiet but, avoiding eye contact, she nodded her head yes in reply.

“So we go in from the back,” Rick decided, glancing over his shoulder to Hershel. “It’s a day’s car ride away from here…” He sighed. Again, more questions were raised. This Ylva person had gone so far just to get to Clementine… to get her back… Why? “Clementine…” Rick took another pause as he pondered over how he should approach this. “I… We are really grateful that you’ve told us somethin’ ‘bout them. Truly we are. But we gotta know why they want you back.”

“I was a worker,” Clementine quietly admitted. “They just want me back.”

“A worker?” Rick asked. The entire group was watching intensely now, curious and worried for what more information Clementine might reveal.

A nod from the girl and an uncomfortable shift in her seat was all Rick got for a while. Then, a quiet whisper added: “They lure you in. Then threaten you. And then you work for them to stay safe. To be protected by them. But you’re not really safe. Not really…”

She shook her head and quietened down again. Her gaze, all the time as she spoke, had been glued to a spot on the floor. Rick tried to move his head so he was in her line of sight, but she only shifted her gaze away no matter what he attempted.

Rick knew what that meant. He had interviewed enough civilians to understand their body language. She was done, clammed up and not open to speaking about it anymore.

So he let her be.

But there was more to this story. From what Clementine told him, there was no reason for her to keep this information from them. She hadn’t done anything wrong. So why was she exhibiting all the telltales of a person riddled with guilt?

“What are you going to do?” Clementine quietly asked, finally looking up at him.

“We will have a chat, if we can. And make sure they leave you the hell alone.” Rick said this with confidence. If a chat couldn’t be had, there were other ways to make it clear Clementine was off limits now. That’s why he was planning on bringing Daryl, the overprotective one.

“It’s just three of them,” Clementine admitted. “Please don’t hurt the others.”

“He won’t,” Beth was quick to say, stepping forwards. Her eyes, pleadingly, glanced to Rick’s crouched form. “You won’t, right?”

A tension arose in the group. Something unsaid lurked in everyone’s minds, whether it was the same subconscious thought, the same moment of doubt, that passed through everyone’s minds was uncertain… but it was clear each and every member had experienced a moment that had made them question Rick’s ability to be calm, collected… and a good guy.

It was clear that no one knew what Rick’s intentions were anymore.

“We won’t,” Rick said with a smile, pretending the tension in the group wasn’t present. “We’re the good guys, Clem.”

A lie. Almost everyone thought it.

Except for Clementine, who smiled. Her innocence meant blind faith in people who had yet to prove their mettle in actions. It was an innocence Rick wanted to protect. He wasn’t a bad guy. But bad things had happened, and he didn’t blame anyone for doubting him.

“We take Hershel’s route, then circle around the back and find a way in. Glenn, Daryl, Merle-“ Rick paused to give Glenn a pointed look when he started complaining he didn’t want Merle on the team. “Merle, stay here.” With a roll of his eyes, Merle quietly agreed. “Glenn and Daryl’ll come with me. The rest of you… stay on your guards. Keep an eye on the forest. Don’t let no one get too close.”

Everyone nodded their heads.

Ignoring his breakfast, Rick went to collect the map and go get ready. But he was stopped by Hershel’s words: “Rick? We can’t handle two groups. We can barely handle the Governor as it is. You hear me?”

Despite most likely not being on the side of murdering the lot of them, which Rick honestly wasn’t a fan of either but leaned more toward nowadays, Hershel’s pointed look and heavy words got through to Rick. A nod passed between the two men. Hershel was asking Rick to keep his daughters safe. And Rick would do that, no matter the cost. No matter what he might have to ask of his people… no matter what he might have to lie about.

“I’m coming with.” Another thing to stop Rick from going to get ready was Clementine’s words.

Everyone in the group turned to look at her.

Carl stepped up too: “Me too.” Clem and Carl shared a look, then a little smile.

“No.” Rick pointed at Carl. That was an easy ‘no’. That was his son. A son who was also still a child. “You stay here, and you keep an eye on the group.” The smiles disappeared.

Merle scoffed at those words, but rose his hands in defeat at Daryl’s glare. A part of Carl’s attitude showed he too wanted to scoff and have a rude reaction at his father’s words, but instead all he did was glare relentlessly.

With a sigh, Rick tried not to take the glares to heart. “Keep an eye on your sister.” Those words worked better, and Carl looked away, defeated.

“You can’t let her go,” Hershel voiced once Rick hadn’t replied to Clementine’s plea. 

“I can take care of myself.” Clementine, trying to make a point of that, took out her gun and curled her lips into what she hoped to be a menacing frown.

Truthfully, she probably could take care of herself. But it was too dangerous, and there were too many things that could scare her into freezing rather than fighting… She’d had close to no practice so far…

“I have no doubt of that, but you cannot be going out there. It’s too risky. These people want you back. They might go to extremes,” Hershel reasoned.

“I agree, you shouldn’t go Clem,” Carol voiced.

There were a few more nods from others. But, Clementine stayed firm in her intentions. “I can do it.”

Her determination, and the lack of a parental figure to simply tell her no as with Rick and Carl, made the group slowly turn their gazes… to Daryl instead; awaiting his verdict, like a friend asking another friend’s parents for permission. Daryl watched the group in confusion for a while… until it clicked.

“The hell ya’ll lookin’ at me for. I ain’t her dad.” Daryl looked down at Clementine, who still remained looking back at the people with a determined face - a face he would have given himself at her age, hence his response: “If she says she can handle herself, she can.” 

“You wanna take a child with us on this mission? We…” Rick quietened down, and instead tried to voice the ‘we might kill people’ through a look.

Daryl understood. But, he was still determined just like Clementine. “They’re her people.”

“Not my people,” Clementine defended quickly, earning a soft, apologetic, look from Daryl. “But… I had friends.”

“She’s not coming,” Glenn piped up, not believing what he was hearing, Maggie nodding in agreement with him.

“No, she’s not.” Rick’s words came out harshly. It brought a pause to everyone in the group, and made Daryl lower his gaze in defeat too.

Merle and Michonne watched curiously.

When Clementine pulled at his pant leg for further help, Daryl simply shook his head.

Shoulders slumping, Clementine let the group disperse with Rick’s decision being the final one.

Clementine would stay behind. Again.

Every time Clementine stayed behind, things went wrong. She hated it.

Sensing her displeasure, Daryl crouched beside her. “There’s a lot of bad people out there. When I get back, yah show me what yeh can do with that gun, and we will have a reason you can come with next time.”

“Really?”

Daryl, the one who had been given his first gun at age seven, the one who had shot his first deer a few months later and skinned it with his own knife which he had gotten a few birthdays earlier…? Yeah, he was bound to agree children could do more than Rick thought.

Clementine beamed at the trust Daryl was showing her, lighting up like a little sun in front of him.

“Thank you!”

Daryl nodded his head awkwardly, not sure how to handle such happy emotions from another. Instead, he patted her head. “Don’t do nothin’ stupid while I’m gone.”

“Never.”

…

Daryl had learned a long time ago, before the apocalypse even happened, that it was important to always have a backpack ready for when you needed to get away quickly. So, he had a backpack all ready with clothes, weapons, food and water. It was easy for him to be ready ASAP for this mission.

He stored it in his assigned cell. That cell was only really used it to get away from people, storing stuff, and sometimes for exercising. He slept out on the catwalk to keep an eye on the others, and to make sure that he wasn’t attached to any one place.

If he got attached to a place, he would make it his home. And if he made something his home… he could get hurt when he inevitably lost it. That was, unfortunately, not something the apocalypse had taught him, but his past life.

Despite being prepared with a bag, he still fumbled around a bit trying to find the last of his arrows. Lifting his mattress, Daryl realised that it was missing - there was no way that arrow had managed to get under his bed. He kept his arrows all neatly stacked and ready if something were to happen…

Strange…

In his momentary distracted state, Merle had managed to sneak up on him, placing himself leaned against the cell’s frame. “You really goin’?”

Daryl turned to glance at Merle. “Rick needs me to.”

“So?”

Merle truly enjoyed prodding at the friendships that had stirred between Daryl and the man who had left Merle on a roof to die. There was amusement present each time he poked around, prodded or made fun of it. There was also mocking. And potentially a bit of harmful protectiveness…

“It’s for the girl.” The words slipped out before Daryl could stop them. They were truthful, and perhaps the only motivation outside of helping Rick that Daryl had as of late (or rather, a better motivation than doing something for Rick… since Rick’s mental break, it was harder and harder to support their leader’s choices), but… they were not the right words to say to Merle.

Yet, his older brother stayed quiet for longer than Daryl had thought. There was a look of disbelief in the man’s eyes, but Daryl could have sworn it was not disgust toward Daryl’s strange parental nature, but… something else.

And then the depth of emotions in Merle’s eyes were all gone again when he scoffed and spat on the floor. “Man, what a wheepy bunch of losers ya’ll are. It’s a girl. She gotta learn to fend for ‘erself and go out there on her own! Why’d you all gotta get dragged into this? The Governor is out there, and our best fighters are leaving on a girl’s quest! Trust me, the Governor is more harmful than some bitches out in the forest!” Merle scoffed again. “Sit it out, brother. Stay here, defend the place from the Governor and you’ll probably do more good for her than anything else yeh do.”

“Those people could be a threat too. Like that woman out in the forest.”

“That was one woman. If that’s the best they can throw at us, we’re fine.”

“We gotta check it out ‘n make sure,” Daryl pointed out.

Merle rolled his eyes. “That’s not why you’re going. You’re going because you think letting some kid run all over you is parenting.” Part of what Merle said surprised Daryl. It sounded almost, although it was impossible Merle would, like Merle had accepted Clementine was slowly weaving a braid of parental protection within Daryl’s chest. “If ya let yerself be affected by the kid, yeh let yer guard down. Kids don’t do nothin’ but take and steal yo’ money, and leave yah without yeh freedom. Screw her. Stay here with me, brother.”

“Man to hell with all that crap! That’s dad speaking, not you!” Daryl had no idea where the emotions were coming from. Maybe it was partly the entire group looking to Daryl to stop Clementine from making bad choices, like he was her dad or something. Maybe it was partly because Daryl knew he’d be a shit father. And maybe it was partly… because he wanted to be a father, but never thought he’d be allowed to.

Or maybe it was just the stress of not finding that one arrow - who knew? Daryl surely didn’t.

“She might not have been with us for long, but that don’t make her any less part of the group. Part of the family.” Merle bit down a reply at that, and glared at Daryl. That was enough for Daryl to understand what his brother meant though. “Family don’t end in blood. This group is a family. We help. We protect. That’s what families do. They don’t screw each other over at every turn they get, and then expect forgiveness and loyalty just cause some jackass came in a woman and created both o’ us.”

“Watch your tongue, boy,” Merle attempted, but Daryl didn’t back off.

Instead, he moved in closer to breach his brother’s personal space, turning his head threateningly before continuing: “Kids are meant to be ungrateful, take yer food and money and leave yeh heartbroken. That’s when yeh know you’ve done a good job in preparing them for a world on their own, ‘cause they’ll have left yah and become people.” He paused to breathe and take in his brother’s reactions. Merle was staring with eyes that held emotions but a face that was as emotionless and strong as steel as possible; contorting everything into anger had been taught to him instead of learning to cope. Daryl wasn’t sure if he was getting through to his brother… or if that was even possible, so he tried one more time: “Punching kids just cause they grow to be someone independent… just cause they got needs, want some food, some attention… That what you’d call fatherhood?”

“Nah man I just-“

“You just nothin’. I don’t care if this hurts me. This is for a kid. For the group. And I ain’t need no thanks.”

With that, Daryl shut up and moved away from his brother.

“You’ve changed, little brother. And I don’t mean since I left, I mean in the past week or so.” Merle’s voice was not angry, it was not provocative. It was strangely quiet too. “You’re gonna get yourself killed if you keep going this way.”

“I won’t. ‘Cause I’ll have ‘em.”

“Will you?” Merle’s anger flared up again. It wasn’t at Daryl though. “Will you!? You think they will keep accepting you? Them kinds of people never accept us. Ever. Relying on ‘em ain’t good. You gotta be with me. Be with blood. It’s always been like this. People will never accept us, man!” Toward the end, Merle had begun to scream. But for some reason, he stopped himself there… and with a little sigh, he lowered his voice to continue. “She’s fucking great, alrigh’?” To say that those words shocked Daryl would be an understatement. “She’s a damn good kid and a good shot. But you gotta be smart ‘bout this. Second that girl stops wanting yeh as someone to take over after that Lee fellah, yer expandable again.”

“Nah…” Daryl said, trying to shake the words off by shaking his head, and turning away from Merle to grab his bag.

Maybe he ought to push her onto Glenn and Maggie instead.

“Ain’t that what always happened, little brother? Yeh got used and then when someone better came along, yeh were nothing.”

There was no answer. The words had clearly gotten through to Daryl, touching upon the anxiety of loving only to be let down: a vicious cycle that occurred in their childhood home, and a cycle Merle was well aware of had left Daryl emotionally broken. And so Merle victoriously stepped back and let his baby brother pass him by.

Trying to stand by what he had said earlier, Daryl opted for some last words before passing him by: “Kids are meant to leave yah.”

Despite having clearly won that argument, Merle felt his victory didn’t last long, a strange sensation creeping up his spine instead.

His smirk faded.

“So you her dad now?” Merle called after Daryl, who did not stop walking… but who definitely tensed up at the question.

Making Daryl feel worse didn’t make Merle feel better. Annoyed, he punched the wall and walked off in search of something to get high on…

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