Daryl and Maggie Wedding

by Broken Kylo Ren

Maggie’s dad dies and she marries Daryl to save her family

Maggie Greene sat at the desk with her history book open, but the words meant little to nothing to her. She kept reading the same passage repeatedly but couldn't quite absorb the words on the page. Rather than the material before her, Maggie's mind was on her father, Hershel. She could deny his condition all she wanted, but he wasn't long for this world. Every day for the past five days she'd been waiting for the worst to happen, and it was fraying her nerves. Every door to open, every phone that rang, frightened her.

"So, that brings us up to 1983," Mrs. Palmer was saying. "When...Miss Greene?"

"Yes, Mrs. Palmer?" Maggie asked, pulling her attention from the window beside her, and the heavy, colorless sky that turned the world outside a dull gray.

"Is there something outside that's more interesting in completing my refresher course?" the instructor asked.

My father's dying, you smug bitch, Maggie thought, her lips pinched and her eyes turning stormy.

Of course, she didn't say that. Mrs. Palmer was good at following rules, good at making sure others followed rules, but she was shit at empathy. She wouldn't care about Maggie's home life. She'd simply continue treating her, a twenty-eight-year-old woman like she was a child. No, she would only care about Maggie's final scores.

"No," Maggie said tightly. "I'm just thinking about the material."

"I'd prefer you paid more attention to my lecture," Mrs. Palmer said, a smirk on her deeply lined face.

Maggie caught a few of the other teachers rolling their eyes. It was strange, after four years of being behind the desk, and dishing out a little classroom humiliation, to be on the receiving end of it. She made the decision right then and there that she'd save such tactics for very rare occasions when students truly earned it.

"1983," Mrs. Palmer continued. "The year HIV was discovered. Scientists around the world, humanity's most brilliant minds, attempted to come up with a vaccine. What was the drawback? Ms. Peletier?"

Carol Peletier was a history teacher at Genesis High School 1, the same school as Maggie. She, too, had to take this summer refresher course if she wanted to keep her teaching license.

"The Stem 3 Vaccine was fast-tracked for human trials," Carol answered. "It proved to be a disaster when the first recipients turned into walkers and the Centers for Disease Control was bombed by anti-government extremists after they intercepted a message to the White House about them. Rather than destroy the vaccine, and the first walkers, the bombing actually dispersed it into the air, along with many other diseases. The Stem 3 went airborne, propagated and infected everyone. Not every infected person immediately fell ill and turned but the whole human population became infected."

"Correct," Mrs. Palmer said with a look of approval. "Miss Greene, tell me what the Atlanta Protocol is and how effective it was in the fight against the walkers? How did it ultimately benefit the survival of mankind?"

"Then-President Ronald Regan ordered that the city of Atlanta Georgia, ground zero of the outbreak, be sealed off," Maggie answered. "No one, healthy or sick, could leave the city. This slowed the progress of the walkers from leaving Atlanta at a much faster pace and attacking smaller communities. The government ordered walled settlements to be formed. The population was divided into populations of roughly 30,000, all walled in, a sort of replica of the Wall of Atlanta, and it was built in a honeycomb design. Those who were sick or already turned were killed off, quickly, easier to manage, while the rest were put to work building the walls. Those communities where the dead overpowered the living were walled in and unable to escape. This kept a sort of snowball effect from happening, kept unmanageable herds from forming, and kept enough people alive to manage the dead. The Atlanta Protocol was issued around the country and was instituted globally, though there were many poorer countries that completely fell because they didn't possess the resources to implement the protocol."

Mrs. Palmer gave Maggie a begrudging nod before looking to another woman in the class.

"Miss Espinosa, can you tell the class which countries have maintained enough living citizens to remain in contact with the United States, and other powers, globally?"

Rosita, a friend of Maggie's who taught at the middle school, answered the question without hesitation.

"The United Provinces of Canada, the United Kingdom, France, Germany, Austria, Switzerland, Japan, China, Russia, and the urban sectors of Australia. Every other country went dark. We haven't heard from them since 1985."

"Mr. Hartwell, are walkers in the other settlements still a threat?"

"No, ma'am," an elderly man from Genesis Highschool 2, answered. "After roughly twenty years they wasted away to bones. Without access to food they've been starved out. There's talk of Reclamation plans, of tearing down the walls of the 'dark' settlements and slowly expanding as the population grows, in the next year or so."

The questions continued, Mrs. Palmer droned on, and Maggie was glad when she left the final class of the course. Now she could get home, though they'd have to wait in long traffic lines to do it. Rush hour was awful; she lived too far from the Genesis Department of Education, where the morning refresher courses were held, to ride her bicycle or a horse. Instead, she had to rely on the rickety old bus with leaky windows. She'd be glad when she climbed out of the bus and could start the trek home. If she was lucky, she'd make it in time to help prepare dinner, or deliver some of their canned goods for some coin or a good trade before it got too dark out.

Ninety minutes later she was home. Her little sister, Beth, had also come home from school. She was a sophomore at Flag College for Girls, and still in her black and red school uniform, with winter trousers and heavy, long-sleeved blouse. Despite the chill in the January air she was outside, checking the connection to their Wind Machine turbine.

When dependency on fossil fuels became impossible to maintain, humankind forced itself to invent ways to harvest wind, water, and solar energy. Necessity was the mother of invention, after all, and money lost importance in the face of the dead rising to eat the living. It was just now, after thirty plus years, gaining importance again, in coin form. Estimated world population at outbreak was over 4.6 billion. Population was reduced to just under 1 billion that was known. Maggie was thinking about such facts for her lesson plans as she waved at Beth.

"How's the old girl doing?"

When the turbine was installed, new, in 1990, Maggie was a toddler. Most of her life the thing had ran with just a low hum as the fans inside generated wind that turned something or other Maggie didn't understand, that powered the turbine, that produced electricity, that powered the fans, in an endless cycle. It gave their house electricity that didn't require fossil fuels. Now, however, it was clunking and shaking and making an ugly grinding noise.

"I keep the filters clean," Beth said. "I don't know what's going on."

"I don't think the filters are what's wrong," said Maggie. "It's old and parts need replaced."

"Whole thing needs replaced but they only give one per house every 30 years. No way we could afford to buy a new one."

Maggie shook her head. "They make something that lasts only 25 years and leave you to struggle for the last five before giving out a new one. How's Daddy?"

"Same as this morning," Beth said, biting her lip. "I haven't been in his room yet. Mama's with him."

"You're scared," Maggie said, rubbing her sister's back.

Beth nodded.

"So am I," she confessed. "Let's spend time with him anyway. We'll regret it if we don't after he…"

Beth held Maggie's hand as they went into the house. It smelled of cabbage, squash, and onions. There was no meat for their table since their father became too ill to work the land. They simply couldn't afford it. The crops had largely been left in the fields where they rotted. Even Otis, who had tried picking up most of the slack for Hershel, was too old and out of shape to do that much work on his own.

Hershel's breathing was audible from the hall. Beth squeezed Maggie's hand tight as they went in to visit. He lay under the covers, looking small and pale, having lost much of his weight from lying in bed unable to eat, for the past six months. Their mother, Josephine, lay beside him, stroking his hair back from his face. She got up when they came in and smiled at them, putting away her bible in the bedside drawer.

"Maggie? That you?" Hershel whispered.

"Hey, Daddy," she said. "I'm here. So is Beth. We just came to say hi."

Their father was a shadow of the man he used to be, physically speaking. When he smiled at them, though, he was the same man who'd raised them up right in the same house he'd been born in, and that he would now die in. His eyes were squinted, filled with pain. Their vibrancy had been dulled from sickness, but the love he had for his children still shone through.

"My pretty girls," he said weakly. "My lovely little ladies. Where's Shawn?"

Maggie swallowed and took in a deep breath. She hated the idea of lying but she had no choice. Their father's memory was shot, or perhaps he wasn't able to handle the truth, and he blocked it.

"He's still on deployment, Daddy," Maggie told him. "He's expected home as soon as possible. He can't wait to see you again, either."

"Good…good," Hershel wheezed, giving in to a brief coughing fit. "Does he know how proud I am of the man he's become?"

"Oh yes, he knows," Maggie assured him. She suspected somewhere, in his heart, her father knew his son was gone, and that their parting words had been to argue over him joining the Security League.

"Rest now," said Beth. She kissed him and as soon as his eyes closed she hurried from the room. She barely made it to the kitchen before she was crying. Their mother, Josephine, turned from the potatoes she was peeling to comfort her, while Patricia busied herself at the big boiling pot.

"He asked for Shawn again," Maggie explained.

Hershel couldn't remember Shawn had died during service in a hot battle with another settlement, three years ago. He sometimes asked for him and they had to lie to keep from upsetting him.

"Girls, I need one of you to take these canned peaches over to Mr. Dixon," their mother said, pulling out a crate of the peaches she'd canned. "He's willing to trade some meat for them."

"I'll do it," Maggie offered.

"I'll come with," said Beth. "I need some fresh air."

"Looks like rain, and the temperature's dropping fast," Patricia informed them. "Take your hoods and umbrellas. Otis will hook up the wagon if you like."

"That's okay," Maggie said. "We can bike. It's only a couple of miles across the way."

"Well, wear your galoshes anyway," Patricia insisted..

"Yes, Mama," Beth teased, earning a wink from the older woman.

"You sure you ain't hoping to catch sight of Daryl's neighbor, Private Simmons?" Maggie teased.

Beth smiled; a little color came into her face, before telling her to shut up.

They had a laugh and put the peaches in the big wire basket on the back of Maggie's bike. It would be nice to have some venison on the table, something they haven't enjoyed in nearly a year. He made good money but he never tried to give anyone anything. Most people were too proud for charity, and those who weren't would never leave him alone, and would expect it all the time, but he was always willing to trade.

The road was thankfully dry but they'd have a hard time making it back if it turned to mud in the rain. Maggie and Beth pedaled hard, hoping to get there, trade, and get back. They wouldn't eat the meat tonight, but tomorrow night would be good. It was their mother's fiftieth birthday, and Maggie wondered if Daryl needed the peaches, or if he was just coming up with an excuse to do something nice for their mother without it looking like charity.

Daryl's house wasn't one that would be considered nearly good enough for a high-ranking officer in the Security League, but he refused to leave it. It was just a tiny little thing painted dark blue with white shutters. It wasn't even half as large as their farmhouse but it was surely a lot easier to heat and maintain.

"Do you think he really needs these peaches?" Beth asked.

She kept casting looks at the house across the street, a small white one with green shutters, no larger than the one Daryl lived in. All the houses in this part of town were small, made for lower-ranking members of the SL. Noah Simmons was nowhere in sight, and Maggie could see Beth's disappointment.

"You reading my mind?" asked Maggie. "No, I don't think he needs them. I think he's just being nice."

Daryl opened the door almost as soon as they knocked. It couldn't take long to get across that tiny living room, Maggie figured. He let them inside where the TV was broadcasting the Genesis Settlement evening news.

"Evening," he said. "How's Hershel?"

When Daryl was a boy he often went hungry. His father was a drunk who refused to work, as was his brother. His mother committed suicide when Daryl was only ten, so, Daryl would come work for Hershel and earn money, which he'd let Hershel hold for him to keep his father and brother from taking it from him and drinking it up. They'd also feed him. Maggie could remember growing up with Daryl working the farm. When she was little she'd had a little crush on him that hadn't lasted long. All she could remember as he always had a bruise somewhere. A black eye, a busted lip, always from his father's angry fists.

"Not well, being honest about it," said Maggie.

Daryl shook his head and they saw genuine regret in his eyes.

"If it wasn't for your father," he said softly, "I'd have turned out to be a drunken good-for-nothing like my father and brother, instead of the man I am today."

"He knows you think highly of him," said Maggie. "He thinks highly of you, too."

His house was usually well-kept, whenever they came to make a trade, but tonight Beth and Maggie noticed a basket of laundry on the kitchen table, some dirty dishes in the sink, and the one little bedroom was a mess. They went into the kitchen and saw two large packages of white paper, wrapped up neat.

"They were giving away beef to the officers at Headquarters," he said. "Figured you ladies would rather have a couple of nice roasts rather than venison."

"Beef?" Beth said, eyeing the meat with wide eyes. She'd only ever eaten it once in her life. "But…that's half a year's worth of trade!"

"Six jars of canned peaches can't make up for that," Maggie pointed out.

Daryl only shrugged. "It ain't like I paid good money for it. There's more than I can hope to eat so you girls take it. Jo's birthday's tomorrow, right? Give her something nice."

They looked uneasy so he took the crate of peaches and nodded at the meats. "I wouldn't say no to one of you ladies coming in tomorrow while I'm at work and turning some of these peaches into a cobbler."

Maggie picked up the meat, nodding. "I'll do just that, as soon as I'm home from work. Thanks, Mr. Dixon."

"You don't have to be so formal, Maggie," he said. "You can call me Daryl. You're old enough to call me Daryl too, Beth."

Maggie felt her own face heat, slightly, under his steady gaze, which lasted a few moments longer than it normally did, before he looked to Beth, instead.

"If you're interested in a part-time job after school, I could use somebody to come in and clean and make my supper. Can't afford to pay much but--"

"I'll take it," Beth said, cutting him off in her eagerness.

Maggie knew Beth wanted to contribute to the household income since their father could no longer work. Even if they could operate the equipment to work tbe farm themselves, Maggie would have to quit teaching, Beth would have to quit school, and their father wouldn't have wanted that.

"I'll have a key made for you, and I'll leave it under the welcome mat," Daryl said. "You can come in between three and five, which is about when I get home. You'll need to be waiting for me outside the gate when I come home so people don't get to talking. I'll pay you five coins a week. Sound good?"

"Five silver coins a week sounds great!"

Beth threw her arms around him in a hug and thanked him. Coins were hard to come by, and Maggie only prayed their mother didn't object, thinking it was charity. Maggie nodded at the door and Beth preceded her from the tiny house, practically skipping down the short walk to the gate. As soon as they were outside they hopped on their bikes and waved bye to Daryl. Beth still hadn't caught sight of Noah and it was dark before they even got half way home.

"You think he paid for this meat?" Beth asked.

"I'm sure he did, as a present for Mama," said Maggie. "Five silver coins a week for light housework? I'm a teacher, and I only make ten gold coins a week."

"He's being nice to us, period," Beth speculated. "He knows Daddy doesn't have long, and he knows we won't take charity."

Maggie was inclined to agree.

Dr. Stookey was at the Greene house when Beth and Maggie arrived. They forgot the meat in the basket and rushed inside, panicked, only to be greeted with the sound of his easy laughter from their parents' bedroom. Maggie supposed the wheezing sound was what her father's laughter had been reduced to. She looked in to find him smiling while the doctor listened to his chest. God, it hurt seeing what had become of her father. He'd been so big, so strong, now he was just old, frail, and dying.

She sent Beth back outside and grabbed the beef to put in the refrigerator before she went to stand beside Patricia.

"Dr. Stookey?" Patricia asked, as the doctor came down the steps. "Would it be possible to look at Otis' foot? It's acting up again."

"Sure thing, Miss Patricia," he agreed, kindly. "Sure thing."

"I can trade you--"

He was already waving her off. "No trade necessary, but I sure wouldn't mind a bowl of that cabbage and squash I smell cooking."

"How about some buttered cornbread to go with?" their mother offered.

"That's very kind of you, Miss Josephine. I thank you."

Patricia and Josephine went to the kitchen while Maggie hung back at the side of the door, watching as Dr. Stookey talked to her father, mostly going over the heart medicines he'd need in the wake of the massive heart attack he'd had.

"Bob," her father wheezed. "I have a letter…for Daryl Dixon…on the dresser. I ain't showed it to…Jo…yet."

Maggie tensed at the sound of her father's voice, and the way Dr. Stookey reached into his bag and took out a pre-filled needle. Hershel waved it away.

"Put that away. Save it for someone it'll actually help, Bob," said Hershel.

"Daddy?" Maggie asked, coming to stand beside the doctor.

"It's okay, Maggie," Hershel said weakly.

"Do you want me to get the letter for you?" Dr. Stookey asked, putting away the syringe, as Hershel asked.

"Give it to Jo," he said, nodding, and breathing harder than ever. "I just remembered about Shawn…my boy's dead…"

"Yeah, I know," Dr. Stookey said sadly. "I'll give the letter to Miss Josephine."

"She needs to give it to Daryl as soon as I pass. It won't be long."

Maggie bit down on her lip. She wanted to think her father was wrong. He'd make a miracle recovery. She knew it wouldn't be so. A person knew when their time was upon them, and her father knew his time was ending.

"I'll see it's done, Hershel," Dr. Stookey said. "I give you my word…Hershel? Hershel?"

Maggie's heart started to pound in her chest. There was silence that lingered; heavy silence that crushed her. A few moments later the doctor reached over and closed Hershel's eyes.

"He's gone…" she whispered, feeling Bob Stookey's hand on her arm.

"It's a mercy," he said softly. "He was in a lot of pain, very sick. I don't know if heaven's real, but there's no man more deserving of it than Hershel Greene. I've gotta tie his hands and muzzle him, now. You don't wanna see that."

"No, I'm gonna help," Maggie said, with determination. "He's my father. I'll get his hands."

Bob nodded and put a muzzle over Hershel's head, while Maggie took the leather gloves from the bag and secured them to each of his hands before cuffing them together. They both took the body into the only guest room and secured him to a chair, tying him down so he couldn't move, until the funeral home could come and collect him in the morning.

"I have to tell them," Maggie said, tears streaming down her face.

"You won't have to do it alone," Bob said.

Together, they headed toward the kitchen, where Beth, Josephine, Patricia, and Otis were talking and getting the table set.

"Mama," Maggie said.

Josephine turned to Maggie, took one look in her eyes, and sighed, sitting heavily in her chair. No other words were needed. Maggie hurried to kneel beside her, along with Beth, holding her close as they wept together, mourning their loss together.

Five Days Later

Maggie awoke to a pounding headache. Sleep hadn't come easily, and what little she'd gotten had been nothing but nightmares. She looked at the clock and saw it was 5:45am. She'd gone to bed at midnight, and she would count the number of hours of genuine sleep at around two. The old clock ticked along while she stared out of her bedroom window at the impenetrable darkness beyond. She couldn't see the lights in town, with her room at the back of the house, facing away from it. She had the sense she was staring into a yawning abyss with nothing but cold and loneliness to be found in its depths.

By the time she looked at the clock she was surprised only a minute had passed, though it seemed like so more time had gone by. That had been the case over the past five days since her father's passing. Time crawled by. It was as though she'd spent months grieving for him, when it had only been five days. It was torture, the way time crept along, as though it enjoyed inflicting suffering on her, and those she loved.

Josephine tried to be strong and brave, but it was an act that Maggie could see through with ease. After all, the woman had just lost her best friend, the love of her life. She went about her day as usual, but without speaking a word. She held Beth with a distant look in her eyes, as though she was unable to remain in the present, undoubtedly trapped in the past she'd shared with her husband. She sometimes would smile while washing dishes, or frown while pushing food around on her plate that she couldn't bring herself to eat.

Beth refused to leave her room for the first three days. Often, the sound of bitter tears could be heard, muffled through her closed bedroom door. When she would come out to shower or eat, she would stare at the ground, her eyes hollow with grief. It wasn't until Maggie threatened to force feed her after days of not eating, that Beth finally managed half a sandwich before rushing to her room to cry again.

There was something different, that morning, that Maggie noticed with mixed emotions: The pain wasn't quite as intense. Five days and she realized that she had a desire to shower, put on something clean, and fix her hair. At first such normal activity had been a terrible burden, done with a sense of pointlessness that had been nearly impossible to overcome. Today, it was easier.

Breakfast was oats with the last bit of sugar and butter until they could get into town to trade, but Maggie had no doubts they'd be drowning in food before the night was over. Funeral food. It was so depressing. Maggie forced down her breakfast, and relished the tea from Patricia's little indoor garden, but she secretly wished it was coffee. With that done, she tried to ignore her headache and prepare to help her sister and mother get dressed for the funeral. It was time to lay her father to rest.

---

The piercing ceremony would be held at Douglas Funeral home. Normally that duty was fulfilled by the eldest son, when a father passed, or the eldest daughter, when the mother passed, but Josephine decided she'd do it. She didn't have the heart to ask it of Maggie. They prepared to leave early, to hitch up the wagon to their only horse and ride the three miles out to the edge of town to the funeral home, when a black limousine pulled up, bearing the red, white, blue, and black Genesis flags. Beth took in a deep breath when Noah climbed out of the driver's seat, in full dress uniform, and ran to him. He hugged her close and whispered something that made her nod in agreement. He grabbed something from the limo.

"Mrs. Greene," Noah said, coming to stand before her, holding the old American flag, perfectly folded into a triangle. "Shall I hold this for you until after the funeral? Or do you want it now? It's your choice, Ma'am."

"Hold it," Josephine said. "Was this car your idea?"

"I couldn't afford it," he answered. "This is from Col. Dixon. He left this note for you."

He passed a folded sheet of expensive parchment to Josephine, who quickly read it before tucking it into her purse with a nod.

"Tell him I'd be grateful if he did."

Noah nodded before opening the door so they could climb into the limo. Otis went in last, and Maggie looked at the house, feeling the heaviness of grief and sadness weigh on her chest as she remembered her father standing on the porch, toking on his corn pipe and looking over the family land. He would never be there again.

Noah had to slowly navigate through the street, which was now packed with cars and people trying to cross to get to the funeral home, before he turned to the lot that led around to the rear of the building. Daryl waited by the rear entrance and held the door open for them, allowing them to file inside. The smell of spices tinted the air, as did flowers. Maggie followed one of the employees, who led them to a room filled with red velvet, cushy pews, crimson carpeting that was soft underfoot, and accented with white walls. For some reason, she kept thinking of blood on bone and had to close her eyes against the imagery.

Her father lay on a silver table that had been covered in a white sheet, dressed in his old military uniform, which her mother had cleaned and pressed the day before. Theodore Douglas himself was working to wheel him over to a contraption, bolted to the floor, that had a thin silver lance that retracted when he pushed a lever forward. Maggie's stomach rolled at the sight of it and she feared her oatmeal was going to come back up.

"They're gonna stab Daddy in the head," Beth whispered.

"That's not your Daddy," Josephine said. "Baby, your Daddy's gone."

The piercing parlor was empty, reserved only for family and close friends. In this case, it was Josephine, her daughters, Patricia, Otis, Daryl, and Noah. Maggie sat between her mother and Patricia. She took comfort in the feel of Patricia's hand gripping hers tight while she watched her father lie on the table, squirming, struggling to free himself while his mouth, which had been made up for the funeral, snap and snarl with ravenous, unending hunger.

It'll be over soon, Daddy, Maggie thought. If you're in there, it's going to be over soon, and you'll truly be at peace.

"Is there anyone who would care to speak before the piercing?" Theodore asked.

Daryl cleared his throat and took his place behind the ceremonial piercer. He was handsome, his beard neatly trimmed, his hair cut in the short style of the Security League. His dress uniform was immaculate.

"Miss Josephine, Miss Patricia, and Otis will remember when I first met Hershel Greene," Daryl said, a ghost of a smile at his lips. "I was 20 years old, and as wild as a feral boar, about as dangerous, too. Hershel caught me trying to steal some trout from the icebox he kept out in the barn to store extra meat. I was starving, dirty, a black eye and bloody mouth from a recent beating from my father, and I was plenty angry…but he saw something in me. He saw the potential to change. He hired me as a farm hand, and gave me a safe place to live. Then, when he knew I was ready, he helped me get into the Security League. He helped me overcome my upbringing to be a better man. He made sure I was educated, with both book learning and life learning. He wasn't the only one who helped me. Miss Josephine taught me table manners, how to sew, and how to treat a lady. Miss Patricia let me practice what I learned on charming her, and Otis taught me everything he knows hunting and cleaning a kill. The Greene family, Otis and Patricia included, gave me a good life. I'm who I am now because Hershel, and you all, took a chance on me. I owe you everything. I'll always be here for you. I'll never let you down."

Daryl stood behind the piercer and took the lever in hand.

"I Release you, Hershel Greene. Rest in Peace, Sir."

Daryl pulled the lever, and there was a hard thunking sound as it hit home, embedded into Hershel's brain. Maggie couldn't stop herself from reacting, every muscle in her body tensing at the sound. She kept her eyes squeezed tightly shut, squeezing Patricia's hand too tightly, though the older woman didn't complain. She simply held on, and used her other hand to pat Maggie on the leg, while Beth wept into Josephine's shoulder. When Maggie dared open her eyes, the piercing machine had been removed. The lance had been left inside Hershel's head. He'd be buried with it.

With his duties complete, Daryl moved aside while Hershel was wheeled out. Theodore would finish dressing Hershel, make sure the wound didn't leak, place him in his coffin, and the funeral would begin.

---

The service seemed to drag on forever. Maggie listened to the stories about her father's acts of kindness. He'd done so much for their community, as both a veterinarian, and a farmer, growing extra crops to feed the poor strictly at cost of the seed. While she was proud of all the genuinely good things people had to say, she just wanted to go home and lie down. Her head was splitting open even worse than it had been that morning, and her stomach was upset. The stress and the grief left her drained. Still, she soldiered on. She sat through the hour-long service before she walked to the limousine waiting in outside for the family. They piled back into the car, rode out to the cemetery, listened to a few words by Theodore Douglas, and then they went home.

As Maggie suspected, they were drowned in food. Casseroles, cakes, pies, salads, and other foods had been given by their neighbors and friends. Meat was scarce, which was to be expected, but Maggie saw a platter of fried chicken she normally would've dipped into. This time the smell of it sickened her. She hurried outside, onto the front porch, and seconds later was vomiting over the banister. Nothing really came up.

She was surprised when a hand gripped her shoulder and another pulled her hair back as she dry heaved.

"Maggie."

Daryl stood next to her, holding her hair from her face, and then helped her into a chair.

"I'll go get Miss Jo," he offered.

"No, don't," Maggie said, panting. "She's going through enough, especially with Beth."

"You need to lie down," Daryl said. "Come on. I'll see you upstairs. You were pale and sick all through the service, you need some rest now."

"I'm too old to be tucked in, Daryl," she said, her voice weak and shaky.

"That's an order," Daryl said, pulling her to her feet and leading her inside.

"I'm not one of your soldiers," Maggie tried to grouse, but she was too tired to really argue with him. She saw all the faces of the guests, some she knew well, some she didn't. Some of them she was fond of, like Carol and Rosita, but others she didn't particularly care for. None of it mattered. She was simply too wiped out to deal with anything else.

"You know which room is mine?" Maggie said, when Daryl led her right to her room.

He snorted.

"I know this house like the back of my hand," he reminded her. "I used to stay in that guest room. You used to make me tuck you in, till you got too old for it. That crush you had on me was cute, though."

"I never," Maggie denied, letting Daryl pull down the covers and pull her shoes off. Once she was under the covers, he promised he'd return. He did, ten minutes later, with a cup of cooled ginger tea and some chicken noodle soup.

"I can't eat that, Daryl."

"You'd be amazed how just two or three bites will make you feel, trust me," he insisted. He sat on the bed and watched her eat a few bites.

"Take this," he said, once she set the soup aside. Two of the pills she recognized as aspirin. The tiny blue pill, she didn't.

"What's the blue one?"

"A sedative," he said. "Doc Stookey gave it to me to give to you. There's one for Beth, too. Miss Jo already gave it to her. She's probably sleeping already."

"Thanks, Daryl. Thanks for the limo, for the piercing…for everything," Maggie said, squeezing his hand.

"Not a problem. If you need anything, let me know, okay?" he said. "I'll do whatever I can."

"I know. Thanks," she said.

"There you are," Josephine said, poking her head in. "I wondered where you'd got to."

"Daryl drugged me," Maggie said, with a small smile.

"I'm gonna go," he said, standing and nodding at Josephine as he strode from the room. He looked back once, nodded, and then left.

"Mama?" Maggie asked, as soon as Daryl was gone. "What was the letter Daddy wanted Dr. Stookey to give to you to hand off to Daryl? I've been meaning to ask but kept forgetting."

"I forgot you know about that," said Josephine.

Maggie waited while her mother stared out of the window. The day had been a nice, bright, sunny one, as though Heaven was happy to have gained one of the earth's better angels. The stars were starting to show as the last of the daylight faded.

"We've got 25 days to save the property," she said. "The law…"

"We don't have a male heir," Maggie said. "Otis don't count, he ain't married into the family."

"That's right. There's only you and Beth. One of you must marry, or give the land over to one of Hershel's family. He's got a cousin in Collins Settlement who'd just sell the property to the government, turn a profit, and not give us a single penny from it. We still won't see a penny if the government takes the land."

Maggie's head was still thumping, but it began to lessen. She started to sit up, only to have her mother place a hand on her chest and ease her back down.

"That's where Daryl comes in," Josephine said. "Your father asked him to marry one of you girls to save the family land. He said I should choose one of you. I'm a widow. Widows aren't allowed, by law, to remarry for a year, or I'd find somebody just to save the land and free you girls from the responsibility."

"Which one of us did you pick?" Maggie said.

"Neither, of course," Josephine said, with a sad smile. "I'm not gonna force you into a marriage. I'm not selling my girls, not even for the land."

"This farm has been in Daddy's family for a hundred fifty years," Maggie pointed out. "We can't just lose it."

"Can you really ask Beth to get married now, at twenty years of age?" Josephine said. She looked so despondent. "I can't ask that of you, either."

"I'll do it, though," said Maggie. "I'm practically a spinster, anyway. If Daryl agrees, I'll marry him."

"I can't…"

"You're not asking, I'm volunteering," Maggie said.

Josephine forced a smile. "Maggie…you wouldn't be able to divorce unless you had a male child to name heir. I want you and Beth to marry for love, not…not convenience…not as some sham to keep the farm."

"I know, Mama, but it's like Daddy always said. 'Sometimes you gotta do what's right and not what's easy.' This is what's right, saving our farm. It's what Daddy wanted or he wouldn't have asked you to pick one of us."

"I haven't even given Daryl the letter yet," Josephine said. "I can't imagine asking such a thing of him. He loved your father like his own but to marry one of his daughters just to keep the family property?"

"Give him the letter," said Maggie. "Give him some time to make up his mind. Please, Mama. Promise me you'll give this a chance. For Daddy. For all of us."

Her mother nodded, even though it was clear she hated the circumstances, and kissed Maggie on the forehead. "Get some rest. We don't have to solve all of our problems tonight."

Maggie snuggled down in her blankets while her mother kissed her goodnight. The little blue pill was kicking in because she could feel sleep pulling hard at her.

God…married, she thought. Maggie Dixon.

The name had a weird ring to it. She'd been Maggie Greene her whole life. To go from being a Greene to any other name was odd but she'd do it. She'd do whatever she had to do to save the family land. She just wished she knew for sure that Daryl would agree. It was an awful lot to ask a man. Marry some woman he didn't love, someone he'd watched grow up, the daughter of his father figure, just to save some land he didn't need or even want? Asking him to marry a woman he didn't love was too much. She was sure he'd say no.

She lay on her side, in the gathering darkness. There was only the moon to filter through the window to give her light to see by. She'd grown up in this room. She'd resigned herself to never moving away from the house and having a family of her own, and she was okay with it. It was no longer expected that children would have to leave home once they reached adulthood. It wasn't like houses were a dime a dozen in any given settlement. She'd hoped Beth would have the life she doubted she'd ever have. Fall in love, move out, marry, have her children, have her life. She could still do all of that, but only if Daryl agreed to marry Maggie to save the family property.

If he did agree, though, she'd have Daryl as her husband. He'd sleep in this bed, the bed she'd grown up in. They'd make their babies here, in this house; grow old here. They'd die here, just as her father had, and his father before him, and so on, going back generations.

Her family had weathered the turn quite well in comparison to other families. She supposed she should be grateful for that. Many people lost everything and never recovered. The Greene's had soldiered on, so had the Dixon's. Theirs were old family names in the Settlement. One was highly respected. The other still bore the stains of disgrace from generations past. It didn't matter now. Will Dixon was dead from an overdose. Merle Dixon had been executed for the crime of murder. Daryl's mother had committed suicide when he was ten. There was only Daryl now. He had done what no Dixon had ever managed-he brought honor to the Dixon name.

He was a good man, Maggie had to admit. She didn't think of him in that way but she had to admit he was nothing like he'd been when she was a child. She could remember the wildling her father worked to tame. He'd had no table manners, no sense of decorum, a potty mouth. He'd been angry about everything, constantly lashing out. Maggie could remember her mother asking her father one night why he was trying so hard with some white trash like Daryl Dixon. She'd never forget her father's response: He ain't trash, my love, he's a kid. He's not beyond hope. He can change and I can see it happening already.

There was nothing left of the wild child who'd come to work on the Greene farm so many years ago. Daryl liked to keep to himself. He gave Maggie the impression he didn't think much of himself, still saw himself as the trash his mother had thought him to be at one point, even though he wasn't. He was quiet but well-spoken. He was respectful, disciplined, cultured, even, compared to the Dixons that had come before him. He was certainly kind and gentle. He was a good man and he'd make a good husband, and a solid provider. If he said yes.

Maggie's only problem was the idea of being with him in that way. She'd had her share of lovers. She'd been with men she thought she would someday marry. She'd even considered pursuing a soldier who'd teamed up with Genesis Settlement to fight another settlement, named Glenn Rhee, after a wild fling just before her brother died in that confrontation.

What would it be like to take Daryl to her bed, and into her body? He wasn't ugly. Far from it. He was quite handsome, especially in uniform. Still, there was no serious attraction. He was a family friend she'd grown up around and that was all. He was a man she saw maybe three or four times a year for trade, never more than ten minutes at a time. None of that mattered, though, not in the face of losing the family land. She'd cook for him, keep the house clean, fuck him, and have his children if it meant keeping their land.

She just hoped to God her mother would show him that letter.

She hoped to God he'd say yes.

Maggie paced the living room. Daryl had asked for a few days to think things over after her mother gave him Hershel's letter. That had been a week ago. A whole week in which Maggie waited for word from Daryl about the fate of their family's future. He'd offered to do anything he could for the family, but this was taking that offer to the extreme. While she waited for him to come over that evening, possibly to tell them no, she was losing precious time to find someone. She especially feared that Beth would have to wed Noah, without being certain he was the man she wanted to be with, at least until she could produce a male heir. She was so young, and Maggie dreaded putting such heavy responsibilities upon her shoulders.

"He'll say no, of course," Maggie said, worrying her thumb between her teeth, chewing on the nail. "Who the hell marries somebody for a farm they don't need or want?"

Maggie wanted to rage against the sexist, draconian laws General Walsh refused to overturn. His excuse was always the same: Until society fully bounced back from near annihilation from the outbreak, they had to use a system that works, a system based on patriarchy. Humanity always fell back on what it knew to survive, blah, blah, blah. It was bullshit. As far as she was concerned all that was just an excuse to create a power imbalance in favor of men, but there was nothing that could be done to change it. Not yet. Not for a very long time.

When a military Jeep trundled up the driveway on that early February morning, Maggie felt her stomach clench. Beth's eyes were wide when she looked at Maggie.

"If he doesn't want you, maybe me?" She said in a timid, trembling voice. "I'll do it if I have to."

Maggie squeezed Beth's shoulder knowing if Daryl declined he probably didn't want the whole deal, not because he didn't have the hots for her, specifically, but she didn't have the heart to say that.

"That's brave of you, Beth," said Maggie. "Thank you. We'll see what he says."

Josephine leaned in the kitchen entrance. Her arms were tightly crossed, she shivered, and her even, white teeth bit her bottom lip. She nodded at Maggie to answer when Daryl rang the bell.

"Come in," Maggie said. He had a few snowflakes on his shoulders that she brushed off. She accepted his jacket and hung it up before she closed the door against the cold.

"Would you like some tea? Patricia grows it," Josephine said. "Coffee is just too pricey, I'm afraid."

"Oh, Lord up above, are you gonna say yes or not?" Beth blurted. She wrung her hands and looked a nervous wreck.

"Beth!" Josephine snapped. She looked as mortified as Maggie felt. For his part, Daryl looked amused.

"I'd love some tea, Miss Jo," he said.

"Beth, would you make the tea?" Josephine asked.

"Can't Patricia do it? I don't wanna be left out like some kid."

"Perhaps you should behave like an adult if you wish to be treated as one," Josephine scolded. "Do as I say. Make the tea."

Beth went to the kitchen without further protest, while Josephine ushered Daryl and Maggie over to the couch. She took Hershel's easy chair and sat to face them.

"So, Daryl, have you come to a decision?"

"I did some research," Daryl said. "I spoke to a lawyer concerning the laws around the issue. It's clear, Miss Jo. If agree then the house, the land, all the equipment, animals, everything, would come under my authority. This wouldn't be the Greene farm anymore, but the Dixon farm. This would still spell the end of the Greene family name, at least in Genesis."

"Yes, I know," Josephine said, "but at least the place wouldn't be snatched up by the government. It would be in the family. Maggie would be able to call this place home and that's what matters. The Greene family will have to carry on elsewhere in Georgia through his cousin, Vernon Greene, in Augusta. All I ask is that you give Otis and Patricia time to find housing, and give me a few months to find a place for me and Beth. Then you and Maggie would have the house to yourself."

"Ma'am, this is a five-bedroom house," Daryl responded. "There's plenty of room for all of us. I wouldn't, if I agreed, ask any of you to leave. Housing is scarce anyway. It's unlikely y'all would find anything in Genesis with us barely running at sustainable capacity already."

Josephine and Maggie both sagged in relief. This had been their biggest worry, having to move out and split the family apart. Now they knew they wouldn't have to if he decided to grant Hershel's request. Josephine thanked Daryl, and then waited on him to make a choice.

He looked at Maggie for a few moments. "You're sure?"

"I'm positive," she said, without hesitation.

"All right," he said, "then my answer's yes. I'll do it."

"You're picking Maggie instead of me?" Beth asked, having returned from the kitchen without the tea. "Oh, thank God."

Daryl cocked an eyebrow at her, and she immediately stammered an apology.

"Sorry, I didn't mean it like you're…I mean…uh…"

"It's all right, I get it," he said, smiling at her, before he pulled a black velvet box from his pocket.

It was a surreal moment, watching him open it to reveal a diamond ring that was much more expensive than she would've believed possible in these hard times, even for a ranking SL officer. He even got down on one knee for a proper proposal.

"Maggie Greene, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

"Yes," she said. "I will."

This was never what Maggie had in mind for herself. She'd long held a fantasy that she'd be in love with the man who proposed to her. Perhaps they'd be on a romantic walk, get caught in the rain, and he'd propose anyway. They'd laugh as he slipped the ring on her finger, then kiss, and start their lives together. Having a long-time family friend pop the question, merely to save the family farm, had never once crossed her mind, and her dreams of marrying for love were further from her than ever.

When Daryl slid the ring onto her finger Maggie felt like he was slipping a chain around her neck. They'd have a friendly but loveless marriage, some children, and that would be her life, however long it was. She felt the ring on her finger. It was a bit loose once it slid on, but her knuckle kept it from falling off. He'd guessed her ring size perfectly.

"What happens now?" Maggie asked.

"Now we set a date. We have to be married within thirty days of Hershel's passing. We've got eighteen days left," Daryl said. "I'm leading the aid mission to Collins settlement and I have to leave tomorrow. I'll return in ten days, which is plenty of time for us to make it official, I give you my word. How about the sixteenth? A couple of days after I've returned?"

"That sounds fine," Maggie said. "Mama?"

Josephine bowed her head. "Agreed. Shall we move your things here, Daryl?"

Daryl shook his head. "I'll do it when I get back."

"The tea is almost ready," Beth said.

"You ladies enjoy it," Daryl said, heading for his coat. "I've got a lot of preparations to make with regards to my house. Good day."

He faced Maggie. They awkwardly made a couple of attempts at a kiss to the cheek goodbye, moving in the same direction and almost bumping noses, unable to get the angle right, before Daryl settled on kissing her hand. He nodded to the other women.

"The announcement will be in the paper in a few days," he told them. "It's just a matter of public record when a high ranking Security League officer marries. We can't refuse the announcement."

He looked glad to be out of the house when he trotted down the steps, Maggie was relieved when he was gone.

"That attempt at a kiss was plain painful to watch," said Patricia.

Maggie secretly agreed and could only imagine their wedding night. Beth must've read her mind because she melodramatically slapped a hand to her chest.

"How are y'all gonna have sex if you can't even manage a little kiss to the cheek?" Beth asked, earning a shush from Josephine and a gentle nudge in the ribs from Patricia at the same time.

Maggie hurried upstairs, desperate to be alone and away from her sister's blunt honesty, delivered in the guise of a joke.

"Nice going, Beth," Josephine grumbled.

"But it's true!"

---

Three days later the announcement hit the papers and the cards started coming in to congratulate Maggie on making a good match. Most of the people meant well but there were a few that reeked of phony cheer. It was obvious why she was marrying. It had nothing to do with love, and everything to do with saving the family farm, and everyone knew it. Some of the comments in the cards were nothing short of trolling.

Josephine tutted when she saw a card from one of their neighbors. She set it aside.

"Who sent that one?" asked Maggie.

"Annette Miller," Josephine answered.

"You've never liked her, Mama. May I ask why?"

Patricia and Josephine looked at one another for a long time.

"You may not want to know," Josephine said.

"I've heard rumors," Maggie said. "She and Daddy used to be an item."

"Yeah," Josephine said, sipping from her cup of tea. "The problem is, they were an item ten years into our marriage."

Maggie couldn't have been more shocked if her mother had announced she was an alien from outer space and turned orange to prove it. She also would've been less hurt, and disappointed.

"Is...is that why Daddy slept on the couch for a year when I was twelve? Why you argued when you thought I couldn't hear?"

"Yes," said Josephine. "He had an affair, and it almost cost us our marriage. In the end, I decided to forgive and he earned back my trust. Don't hold it against him, Maggie. It was a long time ago. He was human, and made a mistake. He atoned to me, and I'm the one person it mattered to most."

"He never went back to her?"

"I'm positive he didn't," said Josephine.

"Esther Cartwright," Patricia said. She flicked it toward Maggie.

"Daddy didn't-"

"God no," Josephine said, chuckling. "It's blind luck she never knew about Hershel and Annette. It would've spread all over Georgia in a week if she had. She's a gossip. She tries to ingratiate herself, win your trust, and then spread your business all over town."

"If she doesn't have anything real to gossip about she'll make something up," Patricia said. "She almost got Otis banned from church starting rumors he was a homosexual! This was back when Reverend Tucker oversaw the protestant church. When he found out she'd lied about something so serious he banned her for two years."

"She tried to convert to Catholicism but Father O'Bannon wouldn't accept her," said Josephine. "She had to eat crow. She was humiliated, and the talk among the other gossips she usually chatted with. She's still a horrible gossip but she hasn't made up one truly harmful falsehood, that we know of, since."

"I know she likes to feel important," said Maggie. "When Daryl and I have a public ceremony this summer I'm sure she'll expect an invitation. She won't get it. Neither will Annette. I don't want her there."

"It's your day," Josephine said. "You invite only those you want to be there."

Maggie was congratulated at work, too, by both students and faculty, but she wondered how many secretly judged her. She wasn't just marrying to save the farm, which anyone with common sense could figure out. She was marrying the last Dixon in Genesis. Granted, Daryl was the last of his name, but his family history was practically a thing of legend, and for all the wrong reasons.

She was surprised by a cake and tea in the staff break room. Rosita, Carol, and Karen Gutierrez had gathered together, putting a little celebration on for her.

"Is this to save the family farm?" Carol asked.

"Carol!" Rosita said, embarrassed by Carol's bluntness, but she still looked at Maggie with curiosity.

"It's okay," said Maggie. "Yes. It's an arrangement. A marriage of convenience."

"I went out with Daryl a few years ago," said Karen. "Just for a few months. We didn't fall in love but we had fun. Boy, are you a lucky woman."

Carol and Rosita laughed. Maggie felt her face heat. "Yeah?"

"Slightly better than usual endowment but that's not what I'm talking about."

"Then what are you talking about, Karen?" Carol asked, batting her lashes innocently.

"His tongue," she answered, with a devilish smile on her lips. "It's like magic. On your wedding night, just lay back and let him do his thing. You'll wake up the whole fucking house, cumming your brains out."

Maggie inwardly cringed at the idea, but she hid it well behind a smile and a wink.

---

Daryl surprised Maggie with a phone call that night.

"How's food?"

"We're okay," she said, noticing Beth standing on the porch with Noah. They shared a kiss before Beth came back inside and he went to his bike to head home. "Patricia and I plan to go trading tomorrow."

He paused, and in the background she could hear men talking and dishes clanking. Daryl wasn't trying to carry the conversation, and she wasn't sure what to say to him. She was just about to ask about the weather, or how his mission was going, when he started speaking at the same time as her.

"Sorry, you go ahead," he said.

"I just wondered how's the mission going?" she asked awkwardly.

"It's all right," he answered, but his voice was strained. "We've got the citizens safe. They're being fed, tended to."

"It's noble what you're doing," Maggie told him. "You're noble."

There was a lot more intensity in her voice than she expected. She was truly proud of what he did. When she learned he was leading a mission to save another settlement from a fire that destroyed most of it, a fire that started from an attack from Beta Settlement, under General Blake, she'd felt pride in the man he was. It showed through in his voice.

"Thank you," he replied. He sounded embarrassed, a little bashful, at the praise. "That's nice of you to say."

"Just speaking truth. What were you gonna say?"

"I added you to my supplies account," he informed her. "Just call the quartermaster and tell her you need a basic family food package delivered. Tell her it's for a family of five adults. Call tonight and they'll have it delivered by the time you're home from work tomorrow."

"You really don't have to do that."

"You're gonna be my wife, Maggie," he said. "Your family will be mine. It's time I started providing for you. Make the call, please.

"Okay," she said, writing down the number he gave her. "Are you okay?"

"Just a minor wound," he said. "I'm gonna be fine, though. It's nothing."

She told him to stay safe, and as soon as they hung up, she called the number he gave her and put the order in. She'd have to sign for it next day. She set the phone down after and caught Beth smugly grinning at her.

"What?" she demanded.

"'You're so noble, Daryl'," Beth said in a dramatically simpering voice. She batted her eyes, which made Patricia and Otis snicker. Even her mother had to bite down on a grin. "'Oh Daryl, be careful my brave soldier man!'"

"You shut up!" Maggie said, feigning insult. She was just glad her sister was smiling for the first time since their father died. To see her joking was a relief, and it lifted not only her spirits, but everyone else's. "I didn't say anything of the sort, and I don't talk like that."

Her family was outright laughing now. It was embarrassing, annoying, and admittedly she was amused, too. This was the first time she'd heard laughter in the house since her father died, and it felt good. It was nice to see her baby sister smiling again, her blue eyes bright with something besides grief.

"'I can't wait until you're home safe and sound, my love!'" Beth teased again.

"All right, that's enough," Maggie said.

She lunged for her, and Beth barely dodged out of the way. She took off running but Maggie caught her in the living room and pinned her to the couch where she tickled her little sister into fits of screeching laughter until she begged for mercy.

"What the fuck does Blake think he's doing?"

Daryl Dixon sat straddling his chair, watching Rick Grimes and Shane Walsh lean over a map of Gamma Settlement and the western border it shared with Beta Settlement. Daryl had already memorized the map, as had Walsh and Grimes, but looking at it made it easier to trace out a plan, as they were now doing.

"He came from this gate," Rick said. "Gate two."

"Slimy prick won't allow other settlements inside his border," Shane said. "It's smart, makes it hard for anybody to know what kind of firepower he's got, but it makes it hard for us to know exactly what we we're dealing with."

"You thinking a recon team?" Daryl asked.

Shane cocked an eyebrow at him.

"You volunteering, Dixon?"

"No, but I'll do it."

"You read my mind," Shane said, flashing an uneven grin at Daryl.

"I don't like it," said Rick. "Two reasons. He's a high ranking officer, third in command of Genesis. Second, he's about to get married. You get killed or captured…"

"The Greene's lose everything," Daryl said, finishing Rick's thought. "Fuck."

"You want him to hang back over a goddamned farm?" asked Shane, eyes wide and steadily heating up.

"Not just any farm, but Hershel's," Rick answered with his lips getting tight.

"Look, I know he was one of our best assets in the early years, feeding the poor, spying on Beta and Blake's predecessor, but Blake's become a real threat, Rick," Shane said. "I need my best men to go in and look around, and nobody is sneakier than Daryl."

"Fine," Rick replied tightly. "Change the laws about women owning land. That way if you get Daryl killed with this mission, Miss Jo won't lose everything she and her husband built up over the past thirty years."

"You know now isn't the time for major legislative changes Rick," Shane came back equally tight.

"You're right," said Rick, holding up his hands in a gesture of Shane surrender. "I should've known not to expect loyalty from you."

Daryl stood from his chair as Rick and Shane info immediately squared off.

"It's been six years," Shane said, his voice so low Daryl could barely hear him.

"I don't care if it was sixty," Rick ground out in a voice like gravel and ice.

"Guys," Daryl said. "You've had this fight before. Too many times."

"Looks like we're due to have it again," Rick said.

"Now's not the time for this," Shane said. "If you really can't move on, maybe I shouldn't have you at my back, especially now."

"That's the difference between us, Shane," Rick replied. "I don't stab somebody until I'm face to face with them."

Daryl pulled Rick back and put himself between his commanding officers. They stood with their fists clenched, their breath coming in hard, and the tension was palpable, like a wave of heat from hot concrete, and both men were equally unyielding as such.

"Come on, enough!" Daryl insisted. "This ain't the time and y'all ain't sixteen year old boys fighting at the park."

"You best be careful, Daryl," Shane warned. "Friends or not, I'm still your CO."

"You best remember you're supposed to be in charge," Daryl said. "Setting an example, all that. You're not living up to the rank right now."

"You know what? I started this fight, I'm gonna finish it," Rick said, before starting for the exit.

"I didn't dismiss you," Shane growled.

"You should get right on that, then, or arrest me for insubordination," Rick shot back, before slamming through the tent flap and letting in a gust of wind only slightly less frigid than the feelings he left in his wake.

Shane started after him, but Daryl put a hand on his chest and and halted him.

"Let him go, Shane," Daryl told him. "Hershel used to stay on my ass about learning to pick my battles, and I did. Don't pick this one."

"That fucking...he won't let it go!"

"Y'all were once best friends, till you hurt him," Daryl reminded him. "I know 'I'm sorry' ain't really in your vocabulary, but you should make an exception. Maybe your friendship is worth more than your pride? Can't you be the one to apologize just once?"

Shane shook his head, making Daryl sigh.

"Pick a team and leave at sunset," Shane said. "If you get captured or killed, I'll order the land to stay in family, as an exception, making Otis the patriarch until one of the girls can produce a male heir with the Greene family name. I'll do it for Hershel."

"Thanks," Daryl said.

"Go get some rest. You'll need it before you set out. Dismissed."

Daryl started for the door but Shane's voice halted him.

"It wasn't like what Rick thinks," Shane said, in a voice so quiet Daryl wasn't sure Shane was actually speaking to him.

"What?"

Shane looked up after he pulled an unlabeled bottle of whiskey from his desk drawer. He tom a deep pull and winced. Outside the canvas tent, Daryl could hear the wind howling, cold and hollow, and the boots of their men stomping over frozen earth.

"They weren't sleeping in the same room anymore," Shane said. "They hated each other, it wasn't just her against him. It was going both ways."

"You think that meant you literally should've slipped into their marriage bed?" queried Daryl.

"Why not?" Shane asked. "He'd left it a whole year before. They were talking divorce already...Never mind. Dismissed."

Daryl nodded and left the tent, heading out into the driving wind that was colder than anything he'd felt in Georgia in awhile, even for winter. He entered the tent he and Rick were sharing and zipped it tightly shut. The sound of the canvas flapping in the frigid gusts made him shiver, despite the heat pouring out of the portable heater in the center of the tent.

Daryl sat down on his cot and accepted the flask Rick passed him.

"You ain't the only one drinking right now," Daryl informed him. "So's he. What the fuck was that, Rick?"

Rick's blue eyes were every bit as cold as the ice they reminded Daryl of.

"I think about it every time I look at him," said Rick. "On one hand, I get it. Lori and I were done. We were roommates, just waiting for a good excuse to divorce. On the other, he was my fucking brother!"

Rick whispered the last with an intensity that rivaled the heat that spilled from the little radiator between them.

"I would never have done that to him," Rick said.

"No, you wouldn't," Daryl agreed. "But he ain't you, and it happened, and hanging onto it ain't gonna do shit for either of you but turn you into enemies. You in love with Lori?"

Rick shook his head.

"It ain't about the love I had for her, Daryl," Rick said, lying back on his cot. "It's about the love I had for him."

"Find a way to move on," Daryl said, following Rick's lead and lying down on the cot, hearing it groan under his weight. "We're probably gonna end up at war with Blake. We need to be able to trust each other. We need to be brothers now, more than ever."

Rick didn't answer, and Daryl didn't push. He contented himself to lay there, pulling the scratchy wool blanket over him and forcing his mind to quiet down so he could rest for that night's mission. Shane had been right. He'd need it. Putting Rick and Shane's old beef behind him was simple enough, but getting Maggie Greene out of his mind wasn't nearly as easy.

---

Maggie's belly was growling by the time she got off her bicycle and trotted up the steps to the house. She was freezing. Snow wasn't unheard of in Georgia, but having it accumulate and stick around for a week was odd. Having the temperatures plunge to fifteen degrees, at maximum, for days at a time, was also unusual, so she was glad the weather forecast called for a warm up soon.

"Mama? We got any leftovers?"

She'd not had anything to take in for lunch and her pride refused to allow her to accept Carol's offer to share her lunch. Now she was hungry enough to eat a raw potato - if they'd had any.

"Sorry, no," Josephine said. "We've had to ration hard this month. You know how lean winter can be. I'm sure there'll be plenty in that food package."

"That's right," Maggie said. "I forgot about that."

The bell rang half an hour later. When Maggie answered a woman stood at the door in a green Security League uniform.

"Margaret Greene?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Identification, please."

Maggie hurried to get her card from her purse. Once she signed the form on the clipboard, the woman went to the long trailer behind the jeep she'd driven up to the house. She, and another woman, hauled a large box up to the house, which they set inside, before bringing up two smaller ones. A ten-pound sack of potatoes, and a bag of onions, garlic cloves, and a sack of oats was brought in separately.

"This is a starter package," said one woman. "You'll need to inform us of what you're running low on each week, and what you have enough of."

Please try not to rip the boxes when you open them, and keep them in a dry place," the other woman said. "We'll switch the them out when we return in seven days. Good day, ma'am."

The large box was heavy. Josephine and Patricia helped her lug it, and the two smaller boxes, into the kitchen. They were plain, no labels on them, nothing written on them to indicate what was contained inside, just small tags that had been attached to the sides by a thin piece of string.

"Feels like Christmas," Patricia joked. "All this for us?"

One of the smaller boxes was labeled meats. There were pork chops, trout, beef roasts, steaks, sausages, eggs, and bacon inside, all wrapped in heavy, white paper packages that had been properly marked. Nothing was yet frozen. The other small box was labeled vegetables, fruit, and nuts. It was packed with fresh vegetables rather than canned, and a variety of nuts and fruit.

The largest box was stuffed full of packages of lard, sugar, salt, pepper, vinegar, an abundance of spices, a tub of butter, a selection of cheeses, crackers, baking chocolate, cocoa, flour, milk, honey, baking soda, yeast, and, to Patricia's delight, a one-pound sack of ground coffee. Josephine pulled out a slender box with Maggie's name on it. She opened it to find it packed tight with candy canes, caramels, and milk chocolate.

"There's gotta be a year's worth of trading in the meat alone," Patricia pointed out. "Not to mention the rest. This is weekly?"

"This ain't fair," Maggie said, feeling the heat of anger begin to pool in her belly. "We've got neighbors going hungry while we get all this? It's embarrassing."

"It comes with marrying a high-ranking officer," Otis said.

Maggie jumped, not expecting him to be standing behind her. He was on his cane, his right foot swollen almost twice its size. "You'll have to get used to privilege. It ain't fair, but that's how it is."

"Otis!" Patricia said. "Why are you up? Doc Stookey told you to stay off this foot until the swelling came down."

He waved his wife away and motioned at the box of candy, which Maggie offered up. He snagged a candy cane.

"Otis is right about the privilege, you know," Josephine said. "It can't be changed and you know how protests go. You'll only get yourself, and Daryl, in trouble if you cause a ruckus about it."

"My vote is for fried trout," Patricia said hopeful to change the subject, but also to get everyone to agree to a dinner of fried fish.

Maggie put on a smile and agreed. "Fried trout it is."

---

Beth came home in a sour mood and didn't realize they'd received a food delivery. She sat down on the porch beside Maggie to complain about getting in trouble for talking in class when she hadn't opened her mouth.

"It was all Sunny Watson!" Beth groused. "She's such a motor mouth, Maggie. She wouldn't shut up no matter how much I ignored her. I got yelled at even though I wasn't talking. And why are you out here on the porch? It's freezing."

She'd come outside to think. How could Beth know her family's larder would remain stocked while so many good people rationed? Kids were fed well at school but their parents, and teachers, did without. It wasn't fair. Yet she knew her mama was right. She was marrying a man who was well paid and in a position of authority. She was just gonna have to accept that not everybody would have it as easy as they were going to from there out. Besides, it wasn't like they hadn't put in their time. It wasn't like she wasn't sacrificing the chance at a real marriage, and real love, so they didn't lose their farm. Or so she told herself.

"Is that fish I smell being fried up?" Beth said, looking toward the closed front door.

"Patricia's cooking trout," Maggie told her.

"I love trout!" Beth said, delighted. "That order arrived?"

"Yeah," Maggie answered, with a nod.

Beth squeezed her hand, sensing her sister was upset, but not understanding why.

"You don't have to do it," Beth said. "We'll all understand."

"I'm not having second thoughts about the marriage," Maggie told her.

"You worried about him?" asked Beth. "He's been in the SL forever. He's highly decorated for bravery. He'll come home, you'll get married, and the farm will be safe."

Maggie knew her sister meant well, but she didn't feel like talking. Beth wouldn't leave it alone until she felt like she'd helped cheer her up, so Maggie pasted on a false smile.

"What's this, candy?" Beth asked, looking at the box sitting in Maggie's lap. "That's so sweet of him!"

Beth reached for a caramel but Maggie withheld. "Not till after dinner."

"Which is ready in ten, so go wash up," Josephine said from the doorway, where she'd been watching them. Beth rolled her eyes but hurried upstairs to do as told.

---

Maggie hadn't eaten so well since before her father's first heart attack over a year before. Fried trout, baked potatoes with butter, salt, and pepper, fresh greens, and chocolate cake for after. Patricia brewed a pot of coffee and Maggie was enjoying hers when the phone rang.

"It's for you, Maggie," Beth said, holding the receiver to her shoulder, and smiling mischievously. "Daryl."

"I'll take it in Daddy's study," Maggie said. "I don't need your teasing again."

Beth scowled, but the look was ruined by the chocolate frosting on her chin.

"Daryl?"

"You got your package?"

"Yes," Maggie said. "I haven't eaten so well in a long time, thank you."

He was silent a few moments before he hissed.

"Don't seem fair, does it?" he asked. "That a few have so much and so many have so little."

She flicked the lamp to high and toyed with her coffee cup. It's like he'd read her mind. Obviously, he was aware of how unfair the disparity was, and it didn't sit well with him. That somehow eased the guilt for having a belly full of good food.

"No, it ain't right," she agreed. "Do you ever get used to it?"

"I haven't," he said, "but now I got y'all, a family, it ain't so bad."

Maggie listened to the wind howling outside while she thought over Daryl's words. He'd always been alone but she'd never considered this from his perspective. He seemed so eager to claim them, provide for them. She'd thought this marriage would be a sacrifice for Daryl but now she wasn't so sure. After being alone for all her adult life, how would she feel to gain a family, and save their land in the process? It would probably be pretty damn good.

"You okay, Daryl?" She asked, after he made a sound of pain.

"Got cut on a piece of glass and they're out of anesthesia," he said. "I'm getting stitched up the old-fashioned way: no pain killers."

"You've been given antibiotics, though, right?"

"Don't worry, I'll be there for the wedding," he assured her.

Maggie tried not to sound annoyed when she responded. Why did he just assume all she cared about was the wedding, and the land? Why did he think she couldn't care about him, too?

"I ain't asking because of that. I just wanna make sure you'll be okay."

God, she sounded like an idiot. Like some simpering bride-to-be when she wasn't in love with him. She worried about giving him the wrong idea, about making him think she felt something more, when, in fact, she didn't.

"Thanks," he said, a smile in his voice. "That's decent of you, but you ain't gotta pretend to care."

"I ain't!" she said, openly offended now. "What, you think I'm some cold bitch who can't care about another person?"

"No, I just...I've had my tetanus?"

His voice trailed away into awkward silence, and Maggie felt some of her anger cool.

"That's good," she said calmly. "Look, I ain't trying to just use you, Daryl. I mean, I've known you all my life. This arrangement is to save the farm, true, and we're not in love, but we can be friends, and I can care about what happens to you. You know you're welcome in the family, too. You've always been welcome. You're one of us, so if I ask how you are it's because I really do care."

There was some humor in Daryl's voice when he said, "Yes ma'am. Understood. You get the candy?"

"Yes, thank you. I put half back for me. Beth's stealing the caramels while Otis and Mama steal the canes. Mama loves mint."

"What's your favorite?"

"Chocolate is good but I like cinnamon. I'm spicy."

"I'll bet," he said, his voice a little husky.

The innuendo in the conversation led to an awkward silence between them, and Maggie felt her face heat. She didn't know how to respond. Was he flirting, or had it been accidental? Did he expect her to flirt back? Or would that make the situation even more uncomfortable?

"Um, I gotta go, Maggie," he said, after a long, tense pause. "I'll see you soon."

"Be careful," she said. "Call anytime."

She hung up the phone and sagged against the chair, trying to figure out why they couldn't even talk without it getting awkward.

"This is gonna be one hell of a marriage."

Daryl liked to keep his team small, bringing only those he'd worked with before, and trusted. They were less likely to be noticed that way, and not being noticed was exactly what Daryl needed. To his left was Sgt. Paul "Jesus" Monroe, crouched down low and peering around a parked truck near the gate. To his right was PFC Tara Chambler. She gave the signal that the coast was clear, and Daryl checked to see if Jesus had gotten the memo. When he got the nod, they moved forward, keeping up the job of mapping out the area just beyond Beta Settlement's wall.

They'd been at it for three hours, were tired, cold, and running low on the adrenaline they needed to keep them alert behind enemy lines. Despite the rest he'd gotten earlier, and the frigid temperatures around him, Daryl's eyes were itchy and heavy. It also didn't help that the frozen grass crunched loudly beneath their feet, making it even more difficult to keep quiet. The fact that the longer they stayed, the higher their risk of detection ran, wasn't lost on Daryl or his team.

There was slight sound, almost inaudible, like a snap. Daryl's eyes shot toward Tara, recognizing the warning. She all but dove behind a tree, and Daryl did the same, just in time to avoid a soldier on patrol. He moved past, looked around, forcing Daryl and his team to sneak around behind the trees to avoid the sweeping beam of his flashlight. A moment later there was the sound of a zipper, followed by a urine stream. After he zipped up, he moved on, heading back the way he'd come.

Stay, Daryl signaled to Jesus and Tara. They each nodded, and Daryl crept forward, careful to keep his steps in time with the man he ghosted, so that any noise his boots made would be mistaken by the soldier as his own. The man moved ahead, not bothering to keep quiet, making himself a target, secure in the belief the enemy hadn't crossed the Beta Settlement wall. He was wrong.

The lights of a small fort illuminated the night. Daryl took cover behind some bushes, took out his binoculars, equipped with night vision, and looked at the tiny text that flashed up in front of him, reading off the number of heat signatures picked up by the lenses, and their locations, but there were other forms moving that didn't have a heat signature, but still tracked by the binoculars. Walkers. From where he was, he spotted at least ten, likely more.

"This just isn't right."

Two men moved off from the rest. There was the peeing man Daryl had followed, who'd been approached by another man whose face had been covered by a green and black army issue balaclava. From where Daryl stood, he appeared to have Asian features, but exactly what race, he couldn't tell.

"What the fuck are we gonna do about it?" Peeing man said.

"Come on, Martinez, you can't really think this is okay? It's slaughter! We're supposed to protect our people, not endanger them."

Martinez shrugged, which visibly annoyed the other man. They stood there, looking back at the fort. After a few minutes, another two people approached. One was a very large black man, holding a thermos, and with him was a smaller black woman. She held up two steaming cups, which Martinez and the other man accepted.

"Everything moving along as planned, Williams?"

The large man nodded, but he didn't look happy about whatever the plan was."It's not right, what General Blake's doing," said the balaclava guy, again.

"You're starting to piss me off," Martinez snapped. "We've got a job to do, goddamn it, and you need to get your ass in line. All of you do. You're either with our people, or you're against us. What are you?"

"Of course I'm for our people!" Rhee shouted, "but how is murdering our people being 'for' them, exactly?"

"Keep your voice down," the woman warned.

"I agree with Glenn," Williams said.

Martinez sighed and shook his head, tossing out the last of the coffee he'd been given before handing the cup back to the woman.

"You talk about being for our people," said the woman. "You think what the General is doing is right?"

"I think the greater good is at stake. I think he's the boss and you're not," Martinez retorted. "I think if you keep talking like this, I'm going to have to tell him you've got a problem with the way he runs things."

"He'd kill us for that," Williams said.

"Yeah, he would," Martinez agreed.

"Are you threatening us?" the woman asked.

"I'm warning you," Martinez clarified. "One more talk like this, and you're as good as dead. Now back to work."

Martinez barely took five steps before Glenn Rhee made a move, and Daryl knew what was coming before any of the others did. Martinez didn't make so much as a tiny peep after Glenn plunged a knife up and into his skull, ending him forever: a kill and a piercing ceremony all in one smooth move.

Williams and the woman both looked on in shock as Glenn pulled Martinez's body over to the bushes and dumped him there.

"What the fuck?" the woman demanded.

"We've got two, maybe three hours before he's missed," Glenn said, leading them past Daryl. "I've got our stuff packed at the wall. All we need to do is get over the wall and ask to speak with General Walsh and see if he'll—"

"Who are you?" said a woman's voice nearby. "This is a restricted area."

Everyone froze in place, even Daryl, as his ears honed in on the exact spot he'd left PFC Chambler.

"Fuck," he breathed, catching Glenn's attention. He was still holding the knife, dripping with Martinez's blood, when Daryl bolted past him.

There was a sharp pain on the side of Daryl's left leg. He ignored it and pushed on.

"Come with me if you wanna get to Walsh without getting killed as soon as you breach the wall," he snarled at Glenn, still running back to his people's position.

Williams, Glenn, and the woman, shared a look, and then took off into the trees after Daryl.

The pain in Daryl's leg intensified with each step but he pushed on. He had to get his people home. He had to find out what the fuck Blake was doing that was so heinous his people were willing to defect in order to betray him to Shane Walsh.

They ran after Daryl to Tara and Jesus' position. A woman was dead, and she wore the black and green uniform of the Beta Settlement SL. A pair of dark eyes stared blankly up at the clouded night sky. Tara closed them and then ducked to hide from the search light.

"I had to. She spotted me," Tara explained.

"Run," Daryl said quietly. "Now."

They didn't waste time arguing. The sweep of the searchlight was too regular, too predictable, to catch them by surprise. They ducked and hid during its sweep until they were safely outside of its range. They just made it back to the wall before the sirens sounded. The woman's body had been discovered. They'd find Martinez soon enough.

"What the fuck did you do to me?" Daryl asked, once they'd dropped down on the other side of the wall.

"You ran past, startled me," Glenn said. "I cut you out of reflex. I don't think it's deep."

"Doesn't make it hurt less," Daryl snapped. His leg was throbbing, but thankfully it didn't slow him down. He'd been able to run and climb, which told him Glenn was right; the wound wasn't deep.

They jumped into the back of the truck Daryl had driven in, all of them crowded in and smelling of sweat turned sour from anxiety. Daryl ignored the smell and gunned the engine, speeding them onto the road and further into the settlement, where the tents Walsh's soldiers occupied dotted the field.

"You need to start talking," said Daryl. "Tell me everything, because I'm the one who'll decide if you get in to see General Walsh, or get hauled before a firing squad."

He called in to notify Shane he was coming in with prisoners, and then hung up to listen to Glenn's story. What he heard chilled him to the bone.

It was night so people were scarce, most of them turned in for the night, except for a security detail, but the entrance to their camp was clear. Daryl drove in and parked near the hospital tent, grateful for the warmth within. He was freezing, and bone tired.

"First you cut your hand, now your leg. Hold still," Dr. Cloyd cautioned, while she swabbed his wound with alcohol, which burned like a motherfucker. That was a fact he made sure to tell her.

"Could you be a little rougher?" Daryl snapped.

"Maybe if you were my girlfriend," she said, winking at Tara, who winked back. "As it is, quit being a baby."

"Report, Dixon," Shane said, entering with Rick beside him.

Daryl went over what he'd witnessed inside Beta Settlement's walls, careful not to leave out a single detail.

"There were walkers?" Rick asked, his brows lifted in surprise.

"I saw about ten," said Daryl, tossing Jesus his binoculars.

Rick and the others watched as the binoculars linked up with the 40inch monitor at the back of the tent. They stood there and reviewed the material in silence.

"Here," said Shane, circling the blue figures on the binoculars, which had been programmed to detect walkers and color them a vibrant shade of bright blue. "There's around ten of them."

"Look here, sir," Tara said, pausing the image and then using her hands to pull a smaller section of the screen back, zooming in.

"Jesus Christ," Rick breathed.

"I know," Jesus said, but the joke garnered no laughs while they stood in silence, looking at the evidence Daryl had captured.

"There's hundreds of them," Shane said, his voice low. He turned back to face the defectors. "Names."

"I'm Sgt. Glenn Rhee," the Asian man said, standing at stiff attention with Tyreese. "This is Staff Sergeant Tyreese Williams, and his sister, Sasha. She's a civilian medic, no rank. We want to defect, Sir. We're asking for asylum in Genesis Settlement."

"You wanna tell us what the hell that was?" Rick asked, crossing his arms and nodding at the monitor with the images frozen on the screen.

He shared a look with Tyreese and Sasha, who both nodded at him to continue.

"Sir, there's no easy way to say this except to come right out with it," Glenn finally answered, sighing heavily. "General Blake has rounded up almost five thousand citizens and killed them, turned them into walkers. He plans to set them on the Genesis Security League if you attempt to interfere with his hostile takeover of Collins Settlement."

Shane ordered Daryl to get his wound taken care of before he took the defectors to another tent for further questioning. Daryl would normally complain about being left out, but the cut on his leg was hurting, and, frankly, he needed some rest. Maybe, he thought, he was getting too old to run around in the field behind young'uns like Tara and Jesus, but he'd be damned if he admitted it, not even to himself. Not yet.

He set the phone down after speaking with Maggie, and tried not to let his mind wander to things like maybe, just maybe, being married to her wasn't going to be completely unpleasant after all. Sure, he'd known her as a child, but he'd also been out of her life from her teen years until recently. He didn't know who she was now, as an adult, but he wanted to, even if the age gap made him a bit uncomfortable at times. She cared about him. That was obvious, from the talk they'd had. She really did want him to be safe, but not just because of the wedding.

Don't let it go to your head, Dixon, Daryl thought.

When Maggie denied that all she cared about was saving the farm, and that she cared about him, too, he couldn't find it within himself doubt her sincerity. There was something in her voice that was impossible to ignore. She liked him. She may never love him, but she at least liked him. So did Miss Jo, Beth, Patricia, and Otis. They actually wanted him in their house.

What was that going to be like?

He'd never felt wanted, needed, in a house. He'd only ever known polite welcome, and he'd always been painfully aware of how easily it could be worn out if he came around too much. He feared ever doing that, ever getting the feeling that the people in a place just wanted him gone, so he never went around. Rick had to practically beg him to come over. Shane and Lori had to all but drag him to their house on certain holidays. Both men had to take him hostage each year on his birthday to celebrate with beers and steaks down at the officers lounge.

Now it was going to be different. Instead of watching people with their families, happy or otherwise, he'd actually have one of his own. He was getting to it later in life, in his forties, but it was happening. He just feared that once he was married, he'd look into the eyes of the people in the house and know, just know, he'd overstayed his welcome, and they wanted him gone, but they couldn't get rid of him because they needed him to keep the farm.

Was that what would happen? Or were they actually going to welcome him in. Could they possible come to love him, and make him one of theirs? He wanted a family so bad he could almost taste it, yet at the same time the idea of it scared him half to death. Well, no matter what, he'd agreed to the marriage, and he was a man of his word. He'd see it through. Picking up the phone again, he called in an order. Cinnamon candy for Maggie, and she liked toothpicks to chew on, as well, if his memory served correctly. He got mint for Miss Jo. He got something for Beth, and the others, too, so they wouldn't feel left out. He'd be going home day after tomorrow, and knew he could just give her flowers and candy then, but truth was, he was mortified at the idea of doing it face-to-face, especially after he flirted with her and received silence in return, so he called it in.

---

It was the night before Daryl was set to return that Maggie received a bouquet of roses and a box of candy. She expected chocolates to fill the box, a fairly standard gift from a man to his fiancé. Instead she received suckers, some fruit flavored, most cinnamon. There were some chewy cinnamon confections, and two little jars. One was of mint gum, the other was of cinnamon flavored toothpicks. The mint was labeled Miss Jo. Maggie's name was on the cinnamon. Beth had received a small box of cordial cherries, Patricia some flavored coffee creamer, and Otis a sack of his favorite beef jerky.

"I haven't chewed on toothpicks since I was a kid," Maggie said. "I can't believe he remembered such an insignificant detail like that."

"Makes you feel all fuzzy and warm in your belly when a guy does something like that, doesn't it?" Beth asked, smiling with a knowing gleam in her eyes.

"My belly ain't none of your business, but no, it's not warm and fuzzy," Maggie said.

"Liar, liar, your panties are on fire right now! I can tell," Beth teased.

Maggie only grinned, not bothering to deny it because, being honest, Beth wasn't wrong, and they both knew it. When her little sister reached for a cinnamon sucker, Maggie swatted her hand away.

"Fine, be stingy," Beth pouted.

"Says the girl who ate herself sick on cordial cherries and didn't offer me a single one," Maggie reminded Beth.

"I hope you get a cavity," Beth complained, but the twinkle in her eyes betrayed her amusement. "You certainly will, all the sweets you ate this week."

Maggie chewed on a cinnamon toothpick, remembered how much she enjoyed it, and wondered why she'd ever stopped. She looked at the flowers she arranged in a vase and set on her desk. It had been years since she'd received flowers from a man. When she went to sleep that night, the bouquet was the last thing she saw.

---

It was early the next morning when her mother came to her room and shook her awake, her voice sounding tight with concern.

"Mama? What's wrong?"

"The field is on fire," Josephine said. She gripped her gown closed and tried to look out of Maggie's bedroom window, where a bright orange glow was visible.

"What? How?"

Maggie hurried to get dressed and bundled, and less than five minutes later she stumbled down the steps. Fire trucks, sirens blazing, pulled up to the fire, just off the western access road. Maggie fully woke up when the frigid air struck her face, and she had to hurry past the barn with her mother so she could clearly see the field.

"Oh, Lord, look at that," Maggie whispered, seeing just how bad the fire was.

A moment later there was a jet of water spraying over the flames, which were frighteningly high. There was an angry, hungry feel to the fire. She watched the firemen, illuminated in the orange light of the conflagration, working to put it out. Several of the firemen motioned at them to clear the area, so they headed back to the house. Maggie wished her father was there to give her comfort.

"Mama, how could that have happened?" Maggie asked.

"I don't know," said Josephine. "That grass, the rotted crops...It's burning like tinder."

Otis came onto the porch. His foot was much better, though he still needed his cane. He came down the steps and climbed onto the old ATV he used to navigate the property.

"Why don't y'all go back in, get warm?" he said. "I'll deal with this."

"Thanks, Otis. You've got school in the morning," she reminded Maggie. "Otis will handle it."

"It's 4:30. I'm up, now."

Over the next hour or so, she, Josephine, Beth and Patricia watched what they could of the fight to control the flames from the kitchen, gazing out of the window. They were discussing what to do when everything in the house went dark.

"The generator," Josephine said, sighing. "I'll look at it."

"Maybe I should call in," Maggie suggested. "They're fumigating the gymnasium today, and a few of the classrooms, so the students aren't allowed back until Monday. I'll just be grading papers anyway. Tomorrow's Friday. With something like this I doubt they'll dock my pay."

They all retreated to their rooms to get ready for the day, using candles to see by. Maggie called in, leaving a message for the office that she wouldn't be in until Monday, and the reason why. By 6:30, she and Beth headed out to check the generator, and they were both surprised to see Daryl kneeling next to it with a flashlight stuck between his teeth, as he tinkered with the old equipment. She was equally surprised at the unexpected warmth and affection she felt upon seeing him, and fought the urge to hug him.

"Welcome back," she said. He looked up, the bright light of the flashlight momentarily blinded her.

"Sorry," he said.

"Noah!" Beth said from behind them.

She took off running when she saw Noah Simmons with a toolbox in hand. He scooped Beth up and spun her around while she kissed him rather enthusiastically. Maggie smiled at the sight. She was a sucker for love, and she was happy her sister had found it. She looked at Daryl, who managed a light kiss to her cheek. It was sweet. It was friendly. That's all their kisses would ever be, she imagined. There wouldn't be the passion fueled enthusiasm like with Beth and Noah. For the first time ever, Maggie was jealous of Beth on the romance front.

"This unit needs refurbishing," Daryl said. "That'll take a week at best, so I'll order a new unit installed right away. Should be done by noon."

Considering he was going to move into the house in two days, Maggie didn't object to him having a brand-new unit installed. She looked away from Noah and Beth, who held hands as they approached.

"I'll let Mama know," Maggie said. "I'd offer you a cup of coffee, but there's no way to brew it without power."

"It's okay," he said. "I heard about the fire on the CB as I was driving into Genesis and had Noah bring some. Mr. Simmons?"

"Yes sir?" Noah said, releasing Beth and standing straight.

"Get the coffee for the family, and then join me out at the field," Daryl ordered.

"Right away, Major General Dixon."

"Sir's fine, Noah," Daryl said, looking uncomfortable.

"I thought you were a colonel," said Maggie.

"Got a promotion," he said, but he didn't look happy about it, and she wondered why.

Daryl shoved his hands in his pockets, gave Maggie a nod, and then started over to where the fire was burning. Two additional trucks were now fighting the blaze. She and Beth looked on, linking hands.

"That fire is even bigger. I'm scared, Maggie."

"They're holding a line between it and the house," Maggie answered. "We'll be fine, Sis. Don't be scared."

She sounded more confident than she felt when she accepted the coffee from Noah and led Beth inside. Truth was, Maggie was scared, too.

---

Maggie was looking for a small WindMachine unit to be attached to the side of the house, like their old one had been. Instead, men in SL uniforms came with a sleek, silver, twelve-foot high tower that was installed, out of sight, behind the stables. They spent the afternoon digging lines that led to the house, the stables, and finally the garage where the equipment was stored when not in use, and where Daryl's cars would eventually be parked. They set up a charging station so their vehicles wouldn't have to be serviced in town at Firth's. In Maggie's eyes, they'd just cost an old friend a client, but there was nothing she could do about it.

"You know, I've got an idea," Daryl said. He'd stopped beside Maggie while she watched the charging units installed, and passed her a cup of cocoa.

"Cocoa? Great idea. I love cocoa," she joked.

"I made it. Hope it's okay," he said.

It was delicious and she told him so. "Tell me your idea."

"We don't actually need to run this farm," he said, "not on my income, but what if we grew the crops anyway? Maybe even build greenhouses for winter growing. Then we can sell the produce cheap and use any profits to help the poor. We could make the market more competitive, and drive down prices so more people can afford better food."

Maggie turned to Daryl, unaware of how much her shock was written on her face. He must've taken it wrong because he shrugged.

"Bad idea, I guess," he said, sheepish.

"No, great idea! Daryl..." she stuttered, grinning up at him. Her smile was infectious, and soon he was smiling, too.

"I've always wanted to help people who need it," he said. "Grady Farm has no competition. When someone has no competitor-"

"They can charge whatever they want," Maggie said. "You know how that'll piss him off. He might go to General Walsh."

"Shane Walsh and I are on a first name basis," Daryl told her. "I know him well enough to know what he believes in, and I know that he believes in fair trade and competition. If a man makes something, it'll succeed or fail fair and square just as long as taxes are paid and the law is upheld. If we do this, Mike Grady will only complain once, I'll guarantee you that. If Mike Grady tries to bribe Walsh to go against one of his most trusted officers, well, he may never be seen again. Grady knows that."

"Aren't you afraid to trust a man like that?" Maggie asked. "A man who'd make someone disappear?"

"I have my reasons to trust him," he said. "I also trust his code, because I understand it. That's why I know this can work. It'll take the whole family to pull it off, though."

"Good thing you've got us," Maggie replied. "One thing we Greene's aren't scared of is hard work. Beth can't quit school, though."

"Definitely not," he agreed.

They were smiling at one another. Maggie reached out and punched him on the arm. "Did Mama tell you how guilty I feel about having so much?"

"No, but I can see it," he said. "It's easy to recognize guilt when you've lived with it for so long."

"What do you have to feel guilty about?"

"We've got a few years to get to know each other's secrets," he said. "Let's not rush."

He offered his arm and she looped hers through. Together, they went back into the house.

The fire was put out, and Maggie was relieved it didn't get too close to the house. An investigation was initiated to see how the blaze got started, but the fire marshal said he believed it was arson.

An argument broke out between Maggie and Josephine when her mother announced she'd be taking Maggie's room, while she and Daryl took the master bedroom downstairs.

"That's your bedroom, Mama," Maggie said.

"It's the bedroom of the head of the family," Josephine countered. "That's you and Daryl now."

"I'm not the head of the family," Maggie answered quietly.

"I'm stepping down, as I should," she answered, smoothing a lock of hair off Maggie's forehead. "It'll be you and Daryl running the house now, and I'll be the old mama bear who potters around until I die peacefully in my sleep. That's the way of things for those who are lucky, and we're a very lucky family."

In the morning, Daryl got some help from a couple of friends, to move his belongings to the house. Sgt. Abraham Ford, and Noah Simmons, helped, along with a couple of younger soldiers. They came in and moved Maggie's old bed into storage, before they put Josephine and Hershel's bed upstairs in Maggie's old room. While they did the heavy lifting, she and Daryl picked out a new bed from town.

All that day was spent switching rooms around, putting Maggie's things into storage. Josephine gifted Hershel's armoire to Daryl to keep his wardrobe in so Maggie could have the closet. That armoire had been passed down from generation to generation to the men in the family. Now it was going to Daryl.

He insisted on gifting Maggie with a new bedroom suit. She picked out the bed and the furniture, new curtains, rug, blankets, everything, including new clothes. Beth was jealous that her sister was getting so many new clothes that Daryl bought her a few new items to take some of the sting out of it.

"I bought a new car last year," said Daryl. "I've only driven it a few times. I usually use the SL jeeps. You can have it. I prefer you take it to work instead of biking."

"You trying to feed me candy plus eliminate all exercise from my life?" She teased.

Daryl laughed and nodded. "Ok, bike in good weather only."

"Deal," Maggie said, before taking out a cinnamon flavored toothpick to chew on.

It had been a long time since Daryl Dixon had knots in his stomach, but he was twisted up inside now. He checked over the work his barber had just finished and nodded his approval. His hair was neatly trimmed, as was his beard and mustache. After leaving a tip, he went to the curb where Shane had parked the jeep he'd driven to pick Daryl up. There were still a few hours left before the official ceremony, so they'd decided to spend the morning working, despite it being Saturday.

"You look ready to vomit," Shane pointed out.

"Don't give my stomach any ideas," Daryl replied, sliding into the passenger seat with a heavy sigh.

"Come on, now. You're not a blushing, virginal boy about to fuck for the first time," Shane reminded him.

"How would you feel if you had to marry and fuck Tara?" Daryl asked.

"Tara's gay," Shane pointed out, smiling.

"Yeah, but we watched her grow up," Daryl said tightly, getting agitated with Shane's amusement at his expense.

"Rick said he'd bet a year's pay your asshole is so tight you couldn't pull a hair through it," Shane said, before laughing.

Daryl's hands knotted into fists while he glared.

"Shane," Daryl growled.

"Sorry," he said, finally taking the matter seriously.

"I tried to flirt with her over the phone, dead silence," Daryl said, shaking his head. "Not a word back from her. She didn't even tell me to shut the fuck up."

"Maybe she doesn't have a lot of experience with men and she wasn't sure how to flirt back," said Shane, pulling into the parking lot of the SL headquarters where they could hear the wind blowing in powerful gusts.

"True," Daryl conceded. "Or maybe having me flirt was like having her uncle come on to her."

"She feel like a niece to you?"

Daryl leaned against the wind as they entered the building.

"No, but I'm not really attracted to her like that, if I'm honest," he answered. "She's not attracted to me, either. I can feel it."

"If you're worried about wedding night performance, remember that Maggie Greene's a beautiful young woman," Shane pointed out. "You'll feel plenty of attraction as soon as you get her naked."

"You sound like a pig," he informed Shane, with a lip curled in mild disgust. He was met with more amusement as he climbed from the jeep. Rick was also heading in, and Daryl slammed the Jeep door to hurry across the lot to catch up to him.

"You look panicked," Rick noted, pushing the button on the elevator to their floor.

Daryl shrugged it off. Yeah, he was nervous, but he'd put up with enough teasing for one day. He wasn't going to let Rick have a go, too. They stepped from the elevator and paused when he saw a gorgeous woman standing at the receptionist's area. He remembered an article about her on the Security League official website. She was a transfer from Kappa Settlement.

Some of Daryl's anxiety eased when he saw Rick run into the door to his office because his gaze had been glued to her instead of where he was going. The woman ignored him, but there was a slight smirk to her lips as she grabbed her briefcase and started toward Daryl.

"Major General Dixon," she said, saluting.

"Lieutenant Michonne Mason," he said, returning the salute and relieved he'd recalled her surname. He led her into his office, the walls of which were bare, and took a seat behind the great mahogany desk.

"You're a decorated officer but you choose not to display your accomplishments," she noted, looking around at the unadorned space.

"If you're about to psychoanalyze me, don't," Daryl warned, leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers beneath his chin. "I've seen enough shrinks in my life."

"Not at all, Sir," she said, opening her suitcase and taking out some forms, which she laid out before him.

"What's this?"

"You're getting married, so we need to assign your old house to someone in the lower ranks. It's a two bedroom, so it'll likely go to a couple of young soldiers," she said. "We also need to add your new wife to your medical plan and update your will."

"How long will this take?"

"However long it takes you to read the forms," she said with a shrug. "I can leave them with you, or have your personal attorney look them over for you."

"Leave them," he said. "I'll have them back to you within a week."

"Congratulations on your nuptials," she said, closing her briefcase.

"Thanks."

Michonne headed for the door, but was stopped when Daryl spoke to her.

"His name is General Rick Grimes," Daryl said, smiling at her, and how her braids seemed to bounce with every step she took. "He's single."

"I'll keep that in mind, Sir," she said, before she closed the door with another smirk on her lips.

Just like that, all of Daryl's worries about marrying Maggie came flooding in on him once more.

"Did you see her?" Rick said, popping in a few minutes later, while Daryl was attempting to read his papers.

"I not only saw her, I spoke to her," Daryl said, putting the papers down, knowing Rick wasn't going to allow him to get anything accomplished, at least not where papers were concerned.

"She came in on a Saturday," Rick said. "She's dedicated."

"Or she doesn't have a life outside work," Daryl pointed out.

"You always gotta see something negative in somebody, don't you?" Rick complained, sitting down across from Daryl. "I haven't seen an ass like that on a woman since, well, ever."

Daryl was saved listening to Rick pontificate on Michonne's ass when his computer beeped.

"Rick with you?" Shane asked, once the video connection was established.

"Right here," Daryl said, and Rick got up to come stand behind Daryl.

"Just got some bad news," Shane said. "Blake's plans have him moving against Collins a lot sooner than we expected. I'm gonna need you to leave your new bride on Sunday night. Be here in time to help mobilize our defenses. Need you, too, Rick."

"We'll be there," Daryl said.

Shane nodded and the screen went blank. Rick looked down at Daryl.

"They say absence makes the heart grow fonder," Rick said.

"With all due respect, Sir," Daryl said, getting up and going to grab the suit he was going to wear for the ceremony, "fuck you."

---

Maggie Greene sat in front of the vanity in her parents' old room. She tried to think of it as hers, but couldn't quite get there. She remembered, quite clearly, watching her mother do her hair in her own vanity, which had been placed across the room as Maggie grew up, getting ready for church, or other social events. Now this was her room, and she was about to get married to a long-time family friend.

A family friend.

Maggie sighed and stared at her reflection. The house smelled of the steaks Patricia was cooking; t-bones, which were both Daryl and Maggie's favorites. The steaks were complimented with the scent of sweet potatoes, as well. Though there hadn't been drinking in the house since Maggie could remember, she'd seen her mother setting several bottles of wine on the table before she'd come to get her hair styled.

Rick's voice carried from the living room, where he sat speaking with Daryl in a lighthearted tone, but Daryl's voice sounded tense. They teased Beth and Noah about getting married someday, and Maggie noted there wasn't a peep of protest from Noah, lest he say something to offend a superior officer. Her mother brushed her hair while Rosita applied a very light coat of makeup to her face.

"You scared?" Rosita asked, finishing up.

"No, why?" Maggie asked.

"You look pale," her mother noted.

"My summer tan's worn off," she joked.

"You know what I mean," Rosita said, clucking her tongue.

"Ok, yes, I'm nervous," Maggie admitted.

Her stomach had bats, not butterflies, and she sat there feeling as though she was being forced to walk the plank with a canon ball chained to her ankle. As much as she tried to be brave, now that the actual day had come, she was scared. She was about to get married and change her last name, which was big part of her identity, not to mention share her body with someone she barely knew.

"Rosita, sweetie, will you give us a minute?" Josephine asked.

"Sure, Miss Jo," said Rosita. "I'll help Patricia in the kitchen. Then I'll get dressed. We're on in an hour."

"Reverend Douglas is here," Beth said, popping her head in. She was dressed in a lavender dress and had put on some makeup. She looked lovely, fresh, happy and carefree. For a moment, Maggie felt a stab of resentment. She quickly squashed it and smiled back.

"Thanks, Beth," Maggie said. "We won't be long."

Once her sister was gone, Maggie turned to her mother.

"Well," Josephine said, sitting on the edge of the new bed Daryl had bought for him and Maggie. "I know we don't need to have the sex talk, because I figure you're not a virgin."

"I'm not afraid of the sex," Maggie said, grimacing. "Not really. It's changing my name, being his wife…maybe even having his children."

"What's so scary?" Josephine asked. "You'll cook dinner and press his uniforms."

Maggie tried to smile but couldn't.

"I keep seeing Beth with Noah," she said, after a long pause. "They're happy and in love and I keep thinking how I'll never have that. I think about how you were with Daddy, and I know that'll never be Daryl and me."

"You're right, then," Josephine said. "That'll never be you and Daryl if you've made up your mind you ain't allowed to love him."

"What do you mean, ain't allowed?"

Josephine took a deep breath and fidgeted with the hem of her apron while she gathered her thoughts.

"You're not marrying the man you love but that doesn't mean you can't fall in love with the man you're marrying," Josephine finally said. "Give him a chance, Maggie. Open your heart. I think he's a perfect match for you, to be honest. Every time I turn around you're telling me the two of you have something in common."

"We're becoming friends but that's all," Maggie said, trying to make her mother get it, see it from her point of view.

"A woman's husband should be her best friend, just as a man's wife should be his," Josephine explained. "Friendship, not infatuation, should be the bedrock of a marriage. You and Daryl have that. If you start to feel something for him, don't fight it. Nurture it. One day you may realize you fooled around and fell in love with your husband."

Maggie chuckled, and took her mother's hand.

"Make him happy," Josephine continued. "Let him make you happy. Drop all these nonsense notions that your courtship and marriage has to be a fairytale trope. You ain't Snow White and he ain't Prince Charming, and you don't have to be to make a good marriage. Now come on. Let's get you into that dress."

---

The living room furniture had been rearranged to make room for the ceremony. Reverend Douglas stood in front of the windows facing the drive, where wind and rain were driving in hard. They rattled from a crack of thunder and Maggie tried not to see the weather as a bad omen for the relationship she and Daryl were going to have.

Rick stood beside Daryl, while Beth stood with Maggie. She realized she was holding Daryl's hands too tight, but he didn't complain. He just looked at her before he leaned in and whispered that everything was going to be okay. That simple assurance shouldn't have been enough to allay the fears she had, but somehow it was.

Standing there, holding Daryl's slightly calloused hands, Maggie could remember the young man her father had brought into their family when she was a child. She remembered how angry his eyes used to be, how fearful he was. That was what had struck her most about Daryl when she'd first met him. He'd been so afraid of everything. Her father would laugh, Daryl would start. Her mother dropped a cup, he'd dodge back, throwing his hands up as though to ward off a blow.

When he looked at her, however, she'd see that anger soften, and that fear subside. He'd always smile at her, when he wouldn't smile at anyone else. He'd taught her how to hook a worm when her mother didn't want her to learn. He showed her how to climb a tree, and skip rocks across the water. He'd tuck her in at night and tell her stories. She remembered how choppy his reading had been at first, but over time, he'd gotten better at it, and he'd do an amazing job of embellishing the stories from the books, making them better.

"You made Snow White the gangster leader of a drug dealing gang," she said, lost in the memory.

Daryl frowned while Maggie giggled.

"What?" he asked.

"Don't you remember?" she said. "You used to change the stories and make them better. You made Snow White a gangster."

Daryl's usually stoic face cracked a smile.

"Yeah, I do now," he said.

Theodore Douglas politely cleared his throat.

"You ready to begin?" he asked.

"I'm ready," Maggie said, nodding up at Daryl, and as the reverend began to read from his bible. Maggie realized, as she stood there holding his hands, repeating the vows, that she really was ready.

You can love the man you're marrying…

Maggie was far from being in love with Daryl, but she was closer than she'd been the day before. She loved him already, in her way, in the way she'd love any friend, but she'd be a liar if she tried to deny that what she felt now was something a bit deeper than mere friendship. Maybe it was the atmosphere, looking into his eyes, feeling his hands hold hers, so firm and steady, and warm, the idea that she could fall for him someday didn't seem so impossible now.

"I now pronounce you man and wife," Reverend Douglas said. "You may kiss your bride."

Maggie could see Beth and Patricia tense. She couldn't blame them. Every time she and Daryl had attempted even a small peck to the cheek it hadn't gone well. This time she smiled at him and nodded. This time there was no awkwardness when she turned her head slightly right and he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. They were soft, warm, and pleasant. He managed a light smile when they turned to the intimate gathering of their friends and family.

"Ladies and gentlemen, family and friends," Reverend Douglas announced, "I give you Mr. and Mrs. Daryl Dixon."

---

The food was some of Patricia's best cooking yet. They ate dinner, with Daryl at the head of the table, and Maggie across from him, taking up the positions that had once been Hershel and Josephine's. Maggie was aware of her mother now sitting to her right, speaking across the table to Reverend Douglas, and how Beth had hurried to grab the chair next to Daryl to grill him with questions on his missions. It also didn't escape Maggie that Noah seemed a tad bit sullen as he watched Beth all but interrogate Daryl, giving him all her attention.

Rosita flirted with Rick, who clearly enjoyed it. Patricia and Otis carried their own conversation, sitting across from one another. He complimented her cooking. She complimented his suit. They had easy conversation, remembering their own wedding, and the good times in the intervening years.

The food was good, the wine was too, but Maggie ate very little. She didn't want to spend the evening too full. Daryl's eyes occasionally met hers, and they'd share a smile or two. Dinner was left behind in favor of coffee in the living room, though Rosita had to bow out early. A cranky Noah offered her a lift home so she wouldn't have to bike in the rain. Patricia insisted Josephine and Beth join the newlyweds while she and Otis cleared away the dishes. Maggie enjoyed getting to know Rick, even if the conversation was shallow, but all the while she was aware of the clock ticking away the hours to bedtime.

At nine o'clock, which was Maggie's usual bedtime anyway, Daryl stood, giving everyone the signal that the party was over. Rick drank a bit too much, and Otis offered to get the guest room ready for him. Daryl took Rick outside for a smoke and some cold air to clear his head.

Maggie tried to not feel any embarrassment when the door was closed to the good reverend, and everyone wished her and Daryl goodnight. Having everyone know what was going to be going on in her bedroom that night made her face burn, and Beth's knowing smirk didn't help, either. She avoided making eye contact with anyone else and headed off to her room, grateful they were on the first floor, at the front of the house, away from everyone else just in case sound carried. Not that she planned on making a lot of noise, but Karen's words about Daryl's tongue skills came rushing back to her.

Daryl was outside saying something to Rick. She heard their voices but couldn't make out their words. Rather than trying to eavesdrop, Maggie went about the business of getting ready for bed. One of Carol's gifts to her had been a very pretty negligee. It was white, sheer, with lace trim. She took a few moments to lotion her legs and feet; anything to kill the time.

The front door finally shut. Maggie listened to Rick head upstairs to the guest room before Daryl came into the room. He'd given her fifteen minutes to get ready, she was sure that's what held him up, and she wished she had fifteen minutes more. He went into the bathroom where she listened to him brushing his teeth.

She was accosted by memories of a guy she'd once dated named Gary. He'd been a sweet guy, a good friend, but not someone who turned her on, and she'd hated the sex. It had always been uncomfortable, simply because she couldn't get aroused by a guy who was her good friend. She'd known the whole time she'd been with him she shouldn't have dated him. The spark wasn't there. Was that what her sex life with Daryl was going to be? Or would they turn out to have something better?

Just do your duty, Maggie scolded herself.

Maggie stood beside the bed, taking extra pillows down but glanced over to see Daryl came out of the bathroom. He went to the dresser to take off his cufflinks, his eyes going to her once. He took in the negligee and his eyes lingered, moving over her slowly from her head to her toes. He'd never seen so much of her before. She worked to turn the covers down before she climbed in, resisting the urge to pull them up to her chin and pretend she had a headache, or was too tired. She couldn't have done so anyway. The law said a marriage wasn't real unless it was consummated before midnight of the same day of the ceremony. They had just over two hours, and Maggie was determined to do this right.

It wasn't until she was on the bed she noticed the champagne resting on ice on his bedside table. It looked pricy, not that she'd know, since she had never actually had any, but the label was fancy.

Daryl pulled his shoes and socks off and put them away. He shrugged off his jacket, hung it up, and then undid his belt. Slowly, methodically, he removed one article of clothing after another under Maggie's steady gaze. His back was laced with scars that made her wonder what kind of battles he'd seen to sustain them, and why were they only on his back? She'd never seen him shirtless when he'd lived with them, so this was the first glance she had of his back.

He seemed so calm, so unhurried and unconcerned, as though this night, and what was about to happen between them, didn't faze him in the least. Perhaps he it was an act. Perhaps he was scared half to death, like her, but better at hiding his anxiety as he undressed. He didn't pull off the silky black boxers he wore underneath. Maggie liked them. She looked at his toned body, broad shoulders, and muscles arms, his handsome face. As far as men went, she could've been saddled with someone uglier, meaner, but she wasn't. She was glad for that.

"You like champagne?" he asked, coming over to his side of the bed.

"I don't know, I've never had it," she said.

"It's pretty good," he told her. "It's made for celebrations. I'd say tonight is a good reason to have some."

He poured two flutes and handed one to Maggie before he climbed in. The bed didn't creak, thank God, when it took his weight. He held up his glass.

"To a good marriage," he proposed.

"To a good marriage," she agreed.

They clinked glasses, and Maggie sipped the drink. She was surprised by how fruity and bubbly, and sweet, it was.

"You like it?" he asked, a touch of a smile at the corners of his lips.

"I thought it would be bitter," she confessed.

"I got something sweet," he said. "I like sweet things."

The words were suggestive, but his tone was neutral. She couldn't blame him after what happened the last time he'd tried flirting. She considered saying something suggestive back, but her mind drew a blank. She took another sip, then another. He watched her drain her flute.

"More?" he asked. "It'll help you relax."

She let him pour another, even though she could already feel the alcohol in her system, especially from the wine they'd had earlier.

"You ever get nervous?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said, nodding, "but learned not to show fear the hard way."

"Training?"

"My father," he answered, shaking his head. "My brother, to a lesser degree."

"Your father did that to your back?"

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe not, but Maggie felt the knot of anxiety in her belly loosen and then slowly vanish. Daryl seemed a lot more human, relatable, somehow, even though her father had never hit her a day in her life.

"Yeah. He wasn't a good man."

"What happened to him?" she asked.

"Liver failure," he said. "I wasn't sorry to see him go, being honest."

She had so many questions about his youth but she didn't ask. This was a depressing subject and she didn't want to think about it, and she doubted he did either. Besides, after drinking a few more sips she felt mellow. She watched his profile when he drank, and remembered Karen saying he had a magical tongue, but there was no way she could ask him to prove that.

Instead of talking she lay back on the bed and switched her lamp out. The negligee had ridden up high on her thighs. Daryl's eyes slid over her before he took a deep breath and exhaled, as though determined to complete a difficult task. Maybe it was hard for him, being with her. She'd not really considered it from his point of view. He drained his flute and set it down. The time for drink and talk was over. They had a duty to perform.

"You're beautiful, Maggie," he said. He leaned on one arm and gazed down at her.

"You're not so bad yourself," she told him.

She could feel her heart hammering, for the wrong reasons, when he stroked a finger down her chest. He cupped one of her breasts and thumbed her nipple. Maggie was relieved when it perked up under his ministrations. Maybe, if she was lucky, she'd be able to moisten at his touch.

"I got this for us," he said, and reached into the bedside table to produce a small bottle of lubricant. It was like he could read her mind, and knew her every concern.

Maggie watched Daryl run his hand down her body, felt his fingertips graze her flesh, before he brought his hand up and under her gown, to lightly stroke her belly.

"I don't wanna hurt you," he said softly. "We only need to do this tonight to make it legal."

"I know," she said. "I'm okay."

Her tummy quivered under his touch. He knew it wasn't from anticipation. Without her asking, Daryl applied the lubricant to her folds. She stroked the nape of his neck and tugged him down into their first real kiss. She opened her lips, let him explore her, even as she opened her thighs, one of which grazed his manhood. His breath hitched, and she pulled him closer, kissed him with more eagerness. When he moaned at the feel of her leg against his hardness, Maggie felt herself finally respond.

This night wasn't just about her. It wasn't about the farm; it wasn't making a male heir. It wasn't about duty. It was about Daryl, too. It was about the good man who'd come from a shitty, abusive family but overcame. It was about this good man who'd been alone too long, and desperately wanted a family.

She kissed him with genuine fervor now, felt her heart begin to pound for the right reasons. Her hands pulled him close, she invited him to rest between her thighs. She pushed his boxers out of the way and kissed along his jaw until her lips whispered in his ear: Yes. He took the time to pull the negligee off before resting her back into the pillows. His body was flush against hers, now, and she felt heat pool between her thighs.

It was easy to take Daryl inside. She was wet from more than artificial lube, now. Her hips lifted to meet every thrust. She gripped his ass, ran her hands up his scarred back, and felt tension mount inside. There was a knot inside her again, only this one felt good. Every time he thrust into her it tightened a little more. It was only a matter of time.

She held his face, locked her gaze with his, unaware she'd started to moan. Her whole body was slick with sweat, and she could feel herself getting closer...closer...until it happened. The tension uncoiled, released, and her body fluttered around him just as he arched his back and came with a plaintive cry that he muted between her shoulder and the pillow.

He pulled out of her and laid back. Maggie stared at the ceiling and wondered if it was a fluke, a one-time thing, or if they could be a couple with a satisfying sex life, at least. She felt the last ripples of her orgasm fade before she looked at him.

Maybe her mother was right. She wasn't in love with Daryl Dixon, but maybe, someday, she could be.

When Maggie awoke Sunday morning, alone, she tried to deny she was disappointed Daryl wasn't in bed next to her. She laid her hand on his pillow and gave it a gentle caress while she allowed herself to slowly awaken. Her body reminded her of the night before in the ghost of his presence inside her, with just a touch of soreness, and a little bit of burn from the scratch of his beard. It had been a few years for her, and they'd gotten rather vigorous in both kissing and love. It had been good, the best she'd felt in quite awhile, and it brought a smile to her lips to think of it now.

The house was quiet, and the clock on Daryl's bedside table read 05:47. She hoped to hear the shower running, or the toilet flushing, but there was only silence. Maybe he was in the kitchen, or perhaps outside smoking. As she lay there, her mind shrugging off the last vestiges of sleep, she began to feel a little foolish at her disappointment.

Maggie enjoyed sex and she had a voracious libido when she was in a new relationship, especially if the man was good in bed, and Daryl was very good indeed. To hell with the feelings behind it, she wanted round two, and she wanted it now. So what if this wasn't a real marriage—yet? She didn't have live like a nun with a good-looking, well-endowed man sharing her bed. She shrugged the blankets off and went to use the bathroom, putting aside any silly feelings of let-down his absence brought about. She had a husband, not a random man she'd brought home for a hookup, and he decided to split before she awakened because he wasn't interested in sticking around for conversation.

"Quit being an idiot," she told her reflection. She was married to her new lover. He wasn't just gonna up and leave. She certainly didn't feel anything deeper than friendship for him, despite her mother's advice. She'd merely fallen victim to after-sex clinginess.

She was still in the shower when Daryl came in. He was wearing sweatpants, and pulling off his tennis shoes to set neatly in the corner of the bathroom, stuffing his socks inside. She peeped out and watched him pee at the toilet. He was dripping with sweat from an early morning run. That's why he'd been gone when she woke up.

"Morning," she said, peering at him from behind the sliding shower door

He rinsed his mouth and put his toothbrush up, looking at her. He allowed his eyes to roam over her nakedness, which was dripping with water and lingering remnants of soap.

"Morning, missus," he said, smiling at her.

"Hop on in," she said, stepping back. "You're all sweaty and stinky."

He hesitated, and she felt uncertainty begin to tug the smile from her face. Just as she was certain he'd refuse, he smiled, saluted, and stepped inside, allowing her to pull the door closed. Maggie got a bottle of shampoo and lathered his hair before she rinsed her hands under the spray.

"You run every morning?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said, rinsing the soap from his hair with his head tilted back and his eyes closed. "Gotta stay in shape so I can keep up with the young men under my command."

He was lathering his body, his mind focused on the task, but Maggie could feel her pulse quicken. Damn, if he didn't look good, standing under the spray, soap and water sluicing down every inch of his body. The muscles of his biceps bulged whenever he lifted his arms to run his hands through his hair, and water splashed over his broad shoulders, running down his chest, and lower, before cascading from the end of his penis.

"You've got a young wife to keep up with, too," she said, and reached out to brush a glob of suds away from his forehead, before it could get in his eyes. He looked at her with a slight smile.

"That too," he said, letting his hands come to rest on her waist, where his thumbs lightly stroked her warm, wet skin. His eyes were too serious for the moment, as he looked into hers. "You know, we don't have to keep this up. I don't want you to feel like—"

"I liked last night," Maggie said. "I like sex, and I like you."

Maggie leaned in and plunged her tongue into his mouth. Daryl reacted immediately, kissing her back with as much eagerness as she felt. She dragged her lips away from his, let her head fall back as his mouth grazed her jaw, her ear, where his breath was warm yet managed to send a shiver down her body and straight between her legs, where his fingers sought her out. He toyed with her bud, pushing her against the cold tiles of the wall. She wrapped a leg around him, opening herself to his eager fingers.

"Daryl," she whispered. "I need you."

He didn't deny her what she wanted. Instead he turned her to face the wall, gripped her waist with one hand, and used his other to guide himself to her. A moment later her body yielded to his. Her, soft and wet, him hard and hot, yet gentle as he entered her.

---

It turned out Daryl was a devout, and completely unapologetic, atheist. Those were two things that didn't sit well with Patricia, if her stiff posture and thinned lips were anything to go by, but she politely kept her opinions about his lack of faith in the almighty to herself. When Rick came downstairs, he was, remarkably, without a hangover.

"How are you not sick?" Beth asked him, as he loaded eggs and bacon onto his plate.

"I guzzled a lot of water before I went to bed last night," he explained. "I feel right as rain today. In fact, I could eat a horse, I'm so hungry."

"I made plenty, so help yourself," Josephine said. "How's Carl? I haven't seen that boy in nigh two years."

"Still growing like a weed, Miss Jo," Rick said, looking proud at the mention of his son.

Maggie noticed Beth was destroying a piece of toast by rubbing her butter knife over one spot. Her eyes were glued to Rick, who slathered some of Josephine's peach preserves on his toast, unaware that she was completely enraptured by him. Maggie kicked Beth's foot under the table, and she quickly looked back to her toast. Daryl tried not to laugh from his place across from Maggie.

After breakfast was completed, Rick said his goodbyes, taking care to kiss Josephine's hand and giving her a slight bow, ever the gentleman. Beth immediately stuck hers out, too, making Rick grin as he bowed and kissed hers, as well, keeping eye contact the whole time and making her giggle like little girl. As soon as he was out the door, Beth hurried over to watch him go.

"He's so good-looking!" she said, watching him leave. "He's…he's…he's so…"

"Old?" Josephine supplied.

"He's not old! He's what, forty, at most?" Beth argued.

"Which is twice your age," Patricia pointed out.

"Daryl's sixteen years older than Maggie, y'all don't have a problem with that," Beth pointed out.

"She's also almost thirty," said Otis, fixing his tie in the mirror. "What about Noah?"

"Oh, I'm not gonna go chasing after Rick Grimes," Beth said, waving them off. "He's just really handsome. Possibly the most handsome man I've ever met, besides Daryl here."

Daryl made a face, something between embarrassment and pride, that tickled Maggie, though she managed not to laugh.

"You didn't make googlie eyes at Rick last night," Maggie said, crossing her arms and shaking her head at Beth's fickle nature.

"I couldn't, with Noah right there," she said, scowling. "He got mad at me for no reason whatsoever! Then he went off with that woman you work with."

"You were talking to me," Daryl said.

"What?" Beth asked, frowning.

"He was angry because you were talking to me," he clarified. "He was jealous."

"Of what?" Beth demanded. "You're in the family now. I'm not allowed to talk to you, and get to know you? That just doesn't make any sense."

"Jealousy never make sense, Beth," Patricia said. "Y'all are both young. You'll figure it out."

"Y'all mind if I keep Maggie home today?" Daryl asked.

Beth snorted with laughter, earning her a reproachful look from Josephine, who nodded her agreement.

"You don't need to ask my permission, Daryl," Josephine said. "You're the man of the house, now, and Maggie's your wife. I still appreciate the gesture of respect, though."

"It'll do them good to have some time alone," Patricia said, as they cleared the breakfast dishes to be washed, when she thought Maggie couldn't hear her.

She barely could, actually, over Beth's giggles. Maggie shushed her little sister, who grabbed her hand tugged her toward the stairs and up to her room.

"Beth, what are you doing?" Maggie demanded, hurrying to keep up with Beth as they trotted up the stairs. As soon as the door was shut, Beth started moaning.

"Oh...oh...oh God...Daryl...Daryl…"

"Beth, you hush up!" Maggie hissed, her face now on fire.

"All that was missing was some tacky music and it would've made a great porn," Beth said, laughing.

Maggie was hot all over from embarrassment. It was one thing for Beth to hear, but her mother? Patricia and Otis?

"You could hear us upstairs?" Maggie asked, mortified.

"I only heard because I came down to sneak an extra slice of cake," Beth assured her. "You weren't that loud, really."

"Sometimes I hate you," Maggie said, sighing in relief.

"So, it was really good, huh?" said Beth, putting on some lip balm.

"Yeah, it was good," said Maggie. "I just don't remember actually saying 'Oh God, Daryl'."

"I ain't making that up, Sis," Beth swore. "You were moaning his name. I also could hear you in the shower this morning, but to be fair, I cracked the door open, after I saw him go into the room, just to see if y'all was fooling around."

"You're an actual, legitimate, bona fide pervert, Beth Greene," Maggie said, shaking her head.

"Aren't you in love?"

"No?" Maggie answered.

Beth frowned at her sister and came to sit next to her on the bed.

"Are you asking or saying?" asked Beth.

"No," Maggie said, this time with more confidence.

"Oh, my God, Maggie, you're falling for him," she declared, clapping a hand to her chest. "I can tell. You've got a crush, for sure. You know what? That's sweet."

Maggie wanted away from her sister and her ideas about love. She got up and started for the door.

"I've got laundry to get done. He brought me a pile of dirty uniforms as a wedding present."

"Listen, I know the deed is done, but you need to rope him in, keep him happy," Beth said. "When we're gone at church you need to fool around some more. Make that bond."

"I had no idea you were an expert, Beth," said Maggie, standing with her door on the handle.

"Just don't go crazy all over the house," Beth continued. "Especially in the kitchen or dining room. We eat there. And stay off the furniture. Especially the couch. I watch TV in there."

"That just leaves your bed," said Maggie with an evil smirk. She shut the door on Beth's look of utter disgust.

---

"The temperature is all the way up to fifty degrees today," Maggie said a couple of hours later, while she sorted laundry. "Rainy, too. We at least won't have to worry about somebody setting fire to the fields today."

Daryl's dress uniforms would have to be dry-cleaned, which she planned to take to the base the next day, since the service was free for SL members there. The fatigues were fine in the wash. She came into the study when she finished and saw he was writing something on a sheet of paper, his expression intensely focused, until she leaned beside him.

"What's this? Anything you can talk about?" she asked.

"Plans for crops," he explained. "Hershel mostly grew sweet corn, right?"

"Yeah," Maggie confirmed, "though he grew a lot of other stuff, too: tomatoes, cucumbers, squash, lettuce, spinach, and strawberries. He's got peach and apple trees in the groves, too. Is that what you've got in mind for us?"

"I'm game to grow whatever he did," Daryl said. "We've got all the equipment we need. The big thing is hiring farm hands to work the land. I'm not a farmer. None of us are, except Otis."

"Otis is old and heavy, and his health is failing, though," Maggie pointed out. "He can't do what he used to but he can still supervise. He knows what the crops need. I mean, he'd be your man to oversee the laborers. Plus, hiring people will help them feed their families."

"That's where a loan will come in," Daryl told her. "I'm going to go apply before word can get out to Mike Grady what I'm up to and he can start bitching about it."

They shared a laugh and Daryl leaned back in the chair.

"I'll draw up a business plan, you can look it over? Spelling and grammar's never been my strong suit."

"I'd be happy to," she said. "So, did you ask me to stay home just to wash your clothes?"

Their gaze lingered for a moment as their smiles began to fade, with both of them were very much aware that they had the house to themselves. Daryl's eyes slid over Maggie's body and she knew exactly where his mind was going. After all, she was looking at him with the same intent.

"Round three?" she asked, scooting over to straddle his lap.

"I don't know," he said, looking slightly embarrassed. "I'm still a little tired from this morning."

"Then how about we relax on the couch, instead?" she suggested. "You've gotta leave tonight. You could take a little nap while I finish your uniforms."

She tried to sound neutral, but she was overwhelmed with feelings. She liked Daryl, she liked having sex with him, but at the same time she was worried for his safety. He couldn't tell her exactly what was going on, but she knew the situation brewing with General Blake wasn't a good one, and he could end up going to battle.

"I'll be fine," he said, catching on to her concern.

"Is everything okay?" she asked. "I mean, is there a fight coming?"

Before Daryl could answer the doorbell rang. He sighed and Maggie got up from his lap.

"I'll get it," Daryl said.

Maggie followed him to the living room but hung back while he answered the door. She heard a man speaking from the other side but she couldn't see him past Daryl's large frame and broad shoulders.

"Hello. My name's Vernon Greene," the man said. "I'm Hershel Greene's first cousin. I was looking for his wife, Josephine. I imagine she may be at church, at this hour."

"Yeah," Daryl answered. "She's not expected back before two o'clock. I'm her son-in-law. Daryl Dixon."

"Yes, you married Hershel's eldest girl, Maggie," he said. Maggie watched Daryl shake hands with the man on the porch before Daryl invited him in.

Maggie had heard very little of cousin Vernon. What she had heard hadn't been good. He wasn't an overly tall man, about Daryl's height, but much slimmer, and younger than she expected. He looked to be about fifty-five years of age, with only a small paunch in the middle of an otherwise narrow body. He looked rough, as though he'd spent much of his life doing hard labor.

It was his face she didn't like. It was narrow, bony, topped with urine yellow hair that had started to gray, looking like someone had peed on his head, from what she could see. There was a distinct look to him that made her think one word: rat. He looked nothing like her father, for which she was glad.

He looked at Maggie and gave her a tight smile. She came forward, reluctantly, to shake the hand he offered.

"I haven't had the good fortune to see you since you were a newborn," Vernon Greene said. "So nice to see you grew up into a lovely young lady, Maggie."

"Thank you," she said, careful to sound welcoming, even though she didn't feel it. "Would you care for a cup of coffee?"

"You can afford coffee?" he asked, his eyebrows arching. "That's impressive. I had no idea Hershel's will provided so well. I'd like a cup but I'm afraid it'll have to wait until another time. I have to get settled into my room at the hotel in town. Travel between settlements can be dangerous, as you well know. This hasn't been an easy journey for me, especially financially. I'll be seeing you tomorrow. I'll call and speak with Josie tonight. Good day to you both."

He left the house and Maggie frowned as she watched him leave.

"I don't like him," she said.

"I don't like complainers," Daryl agreed. "If you don't want him in this house I won't let him come back."

"I'll leave that up to Mama if she wants to see him," Maggie said, turning to go to the laundry room. "As for me, I've got laundry to get done and dinner to start. You relax on the couch, Mister."

---

As soon as Josephine learned Vernon was in Genesis she heaved a sigh and shared gazes with Otis and Patricia. Maggie had only spent a minute in his company and, while he hadn't said or done anything particularly offensive, she'd still disliked him.

"What about him?" Beth asked, watching her mother.

"He's difficult," Josephine said, but her tone was cautious. "It doesn't matter. I'll let him make his phone call, though I have an idea what he wants. Hopefully I can get rid of him without a lot of trouble."

"Is he gonna be a problem for you, Jo?" Daryl asked, studying her closely. The tight line of her mouth, the drawn look around her eyes, and the wan tint to her skin was starting to worry him.

"He'll try to be," she answered. "That's just how Vernon is."

Josephine didn't get her call that night, at least not that Maggie knew. She and the rest of the family turned in early, so they could rise early. As soon as Daryl shut the lights off he wrapped Maggie in his arms, spooning her.

"I thought you had to leave," Maggie said.

"Not till later," he said. "I'll see you off to sleep, first."

Maggie smiled and felt a rush of affection for Daryl. He was so big in comparison to her, and his chest was like a warm, solid wall behind her.

"Maybe I'm paranoid, but Josephine's holding something back," Daryl said.

"Why you say that?" asked Maggie. She felt him shrug behind her.

"She went pale, her back was stiff, and her mouth was pinched tight," he said. "This guy distresses her, and I don't like it."

Maggie turned to face him, even though she couldn't see him in the pitch black of the room. The moon was hidden behind the rain clouds that refused to go away, but she could smell the toothpaste on Daryl's warm breath. The feel of his fingers lightly curling and uncurling on her side was comforting.

"I got the feeling he scared her," she said, after a few moments of silence. "He said he'd call but didn't."

"Mind games, probably," Daryl said. "If she's afraid of him, of what he might say, and he didn't call, he's keeping her on the hook. I should see about this guy. Find out what the hell he wants."

"The farm, maybe?" Maggie suggested. "He's got a claim on the land."

"Not since we married, he don't," Daryl reminded her. "I made sure we upheld Genesis law. Not that it matters. I'm third in command of the largest Settlement in Georgia. Third largest in the country. He ain't getting shit."

Maggie nodded and made a sound of agreement. Despite her worry for her mother, she was dead tired. The bed was warm, Daryl was warm, and the rain beat a steady rhythm against the window.

"Too bad you won't be here when I wake up tomorrow," she whispered.

"If I didn't have to go, I wouldn't," Daryl said. "Rick says absence makes the heart grow fonder."

"Screw Rick," Maggie said, snorting with laughter, and he chuckled with her.

He kissed her on the forehead, squeezed her close, and a few moments later she was fast asleep.

---

In the morning, Maggie awoke to an empty bed. The alarm rang at five o'clock, forcing her from sleep with its shrill buzzing. She shut it off and took a deep breath of Daryl's pillow. It smelled of his shampoo, and that filled her chest with warmth. He was only supposed to be gone a few days anyway. A week, tops, and she could live without him that long.

Maggie was first up, so she set about the task of checking the phone while the coffee brewed. According to the screen, they'd received a call around 11:30. They always turned the ringers off at 8:30, out of habit, since they usually turned in at nine o'clock. She mentioned the call while she flipped sausages and eggs on the griddle. Beth told her to remember she liked her yolk busted and cooked firm.

"Why would he call at that time of night?" Beth asked, when she sat down at the table. "Surely he knows we go to bed, and get up, early."

Sleet pounded the windows and the winds were driving hard. Josephine declined to speak on the subject, and Beth didn't push.

"Maggie, can you give me a ride to school this morning?" she asked. "I know it's out of your way, but I don't wanna bike in this."

"Noah's not picking you up?" Maggie asked.

"No," Beth said, shaking her head and looking sad. She didn't elaborate, but elected to keep herself busy by scraping the detritus of bacon rinds and toast crust into the trash and put her plate in the dish washer. She ran upstairs and Maggie shared a look with her mother.

"Trouble in paradise?" Maggie said.

"She's only out of her teens four months," said Patricia. "She's so young, and she ain't likely to find her soul mate already. If they break up, it's not a shocker."

"Jo, phone," Otis said. "Daryl."

"For me?" Josephine said. Otis nodded, and Josephine went to the study to take the call, leaving Patricia to clean up while Maggie headed to her room to get ready for work.

"Hello?" she said.

"Morning, Miss Jo," he said. There was something in the background, an engine sound. He was on the road.

"Morning, son," she said, smiling. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?"

"I wanted to talk about Vernon Greene," he said. "I'm not gonna ask you to tell me all your business if you don't want to, but I need to protect what's mine. Y'all's my family now. I intend to keep you safe."

Josephine felt her chest swell with affection for Daryl. She wasn't much older than him, fifteen years, but she had already started to regard him as her boy. He was so much like Shawn in how protective he was by nature. He'd finally gotten a family, and she had no doubts he intended to keep them as safe as he could.

"He likely wants to make a nuisance of himself," she said. "In all honesty I'm surprised he didn't call fifty times and leave angry messages, or even show up here himself in the middle of the night."

"He comes to this house in the middle of the night he's gonna get one warning," Daryl said in a stern voice. "After that, I'll personally throw him in jail. He doesn't know who he's fu-messing with. Miss Jo, is there something you're not telling me?"

"There's a lot I'm not telling you, and I ain't gonna unless I have no choice," she said, but her tone wasn't harsh. "Things happened back then, before you came into our life the first time, and I'd rather not relive it if I don't have to."

"I understand that," he said. "I'm not trying to take your secrets. I just wanna make sure you're okay, and safe. I won't let him harass you, Maggie, or anyone else. Call this number if something happens. I'll get back to you."

"Is that a cell phone?" Josephine asked.

"Yeah," Daryl confirmed. "I've got it on me at all times."

"Beth's wanted one of those since she was a baby," Josephine said. "I hear they cause brain cancer."

Daryl laughed over the line before they said their goodbye's. When she hung up, Josephine felt somewhat lighter in her chest. Vernon Greene was going to make himself a burden, but she wouldn't have to carry it alone. Not with Daryl in the family.

---

"God, this weather's horrible," Patricia said, looking outside.

Snow had mixed with the rain and the unusual cold spell they were going through showed no signs of letting up anytime soon. It was coming down nearly horizontally when Maggie and Beth came downstairs. The sun was still a ways from rising, but the porch light showed how hard it was raining.

"I'd better get dressed and ready the wagon," Patricia said. "Otis has an appointment at nine this morning for his foot. Doc Stookey thinks he'll have to operate. He found a little tumor."

"Tumor?" Beth said in alarm, hefting her bookbag and looking at Otis with some worry.

"It's benign," Otis hurried to assure her. "Still, gotta get it cut out at some point. Then my foot will quit swelling up and I can finally get rid of this cane."

"Mama, you've still got your driver's licence, right?" Maggie said. "Why don't you take Daryl's jeep? He left the keys, said we can use it."

"Mama can't drive a standard," said Beth.

"Sure I can, Honey," Josephine said, making Beth's brows climb into her fringe. "I was raised on a farm, married a farmer, been using trucks all my life. Thanks, Maggie."

Maggie was grateful to have a car, instead of biking, in weather like this. She drove through town, relieved Beth didn't have to, either. The day would warm up and the sleet would turn to rain but for now it was a slushy mess that made getting into school a real problem. After she dropped Beth off, she started through town, and the increasingly dense traffic that came with people trying to get to work and school at the same time of the morning.

"Mrs. Dixon! Mrs. Dixon!"

Maggie was so intent on getting to her classroom and getting it set up that she didn't realize the girl in the hall was hollering for her. This was the first time someone had called her by her new name.

"Oh, Katie. Sorry, I didn't…"

"Not used to your new name?" Katie asked, smiling. She passed Maggie a note. "I'm heading down for breakfast, and then Mr. Paul needs help getting the bleachers set up for assembly later. He says Roger, Mary, and I are needed, if it's okay with you."

"That's fine," Maggie said. "Just remember to bring a note."

Katie hurried off and Maggie headed inside to warm up her classroom and write a reminder on the chalkboard.

Attention: Miss Greene is now Mrs. Dixon

---

Maggie ended the first school day hearing a lot of snickers. Most were from teenaged boys who were thinking of how their teacher undoubtedly got laid over the weekend. A few of the boys with crushes on her were surly or very quiet. It was the girls who made comments about how their teacher made an arranged marriage with the last of the dreaded Dixon clan.

There a few older ladies, teachers, who made comments, deliberately loud enough for her to hear, that she'd married Dixon scum and tarnished the good Greene name. As if they knew anything about him, or her situation. Maggie pretended not to hear, but inside she was seething with anger. It was all she could do to hold her tongue.

"I count myself lucky, marrying Daryl," Maggie said, sitting in the teacher's lounge at lunch. She was speaking to Carol, Karen, and Rosita, who all smiled at her, knowing she was finally taking the chance to say something back to the middle-aged and elderly gossips who'd been nitpicking at her all day.

"Good in bed?" Carol asked loudly.

"He's a beast in the sack," she informed the room at large. "Not to mention wealthy and good-looking. Would you care for some coffee?"

"He's third in command of Genesis, isn't he, the largest settlement in Georgia?" Karen asked, ignoring the glares from the older women who'd trashed Daryl's name in the hall all day, as Maggie walked by. "Not bad for a Dixon."

"Not bad at all," Carol agreed. "You'd be amazed how many women are disappointed he's off the market now. All that power and prestige, he's quite a catch."

Maggie shared her thermos with her friends, as well as the last of the cake from her ceremony, while the gossips stared at her resentfully. Their smug smiles had disappeared, and Maggie sipped her coffee in satisfaction.

"Try not to let them get to you," Karen said quietly. "I think they're simply jealous. You've gone from the poorest teacher, to the richest, and they can't stand it."

"They came from money and have family that's been able to keep them comfortable," Rosita said. "They're pissed they can't look down their noses at Daryl, or you, anymore."

"Not to mention they're flat out bitches," Carol said. "They were the meanest girls in school in their day, bullies, that never grew out of it. They never will."

She was grateful to gather her things and leave for the day. Beth called the school and left a message that Noah was going to pick her up from the university library later that evening, and Maggie wondered if their little spat was coming to a conclusion. She hoped so. While she didn't have an umbrella, she managed to wrap her hair in a scarf while she hurried toward her car and climbed in.

It started right up but the brakes felt soft. Maggie supposed it was normal considering Daryl had let the car sit and hardly drove it. She merged with traffic and blasted the heat. Her rotten day was still on her mind when a man darted out into the road ahead of her. The car took a second to slow to a stop. Fortunately, he was across the street before she could do any harm.

She made a mental note to tell Daryl the brake fluid was probably low. When she got home, though, she got lost in grading papers and forgot all about it.