Be Seeing You

by slaxl

Daryl Dixon gets lost in the woods and meets an old friend. Rated M, Slash, Daryl D./OC

Disclaimer- I own nothing about The Walking Dead. Although, I'd totally own Daryl Dixon if he was for sale...

A/N- This is my first Walking Dead fic, so please don't hate too much. Also, it is SLASH, meaning man/man hotness. Rated M for language and Daryl Dixon sexy times. So, if you're opposed, the exit is just a click away...

...

Silence. It was the sound he liked most. Other than the birds, squirrels, and wind through the branches, he was completely alone with his thoughts. Not that they were particularly deep or anything. But they were his. No Lori nagging Rick's ear off, no Andrea complaining about Dale. No Shane...well pretty much just no Shane. He looked forward to these jaunts into the woods. He preferred to hunt alone, always had. And if he took a bit longer than was strictly necessary just to prolong his time out there, well no one need know.

Lately he'd been using these trips to try and figure out where exactly the group was headed. Ever since Hershel had given them the boot, they'd been wandering aimlessly. Not that they'd left without a fight. Shane had led that charge...but in the end, Rick's dominant control over the group had won out. It had very nearly come to bloodshed. No one had been surprised when Shane, angry and out of control, had pulled his gun on Hershel. Andrea, unsurprisingly, had backed him. But after it became quite clear that they stood alone, they'd backed down. A few days later they were packed and gone. Just like that.

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more, Daryl thought wryly. Of all the quotes to remember from his high school literature class...he laughed to himself. If he was being completely honest with himself, he only considered a few members of his group to be 'dear friends'. Carol he would do pretty much anything for at this point. She'd become quite irreplacable in his heart. T-dog, much to his chagrin, had become a very comfortable presence. Glenn was his closest confidant. And like Daryl, Rick was a survivor. But unlike Shane, he'd never once neglected his moral convictions. The rest of 'em can go and fuck themselves, Daryl thought grimly. He felt slightly guilty for thinking that way toward Dale, who no matter which way he looked at it, had been nothing but an asset to them. But he'd just never been able to feel anything but indifference toward the older man.

Oh, I'm forgetting someone, he thought amusedly. They'd recently accepted another into their little dysfunctional jumble. Three days after they'd left Hershel's, they'd been caught up to by a sweaty dirty Maggie, yelling for Glenn to "wait up, you Asian bastard". Then they'd watched as Glenn commenced yelling at her, telling her she was an idiot for leaving the comfort and safety of the farm, and how he'd never live with himself if she got herself killed. The bemused group had then been privilege to witness a rather intense reunion between the unlikely couple. Daryl shook his head at the memory, chuckling softly.

The best thing about Maggie's appearance wasn't her effect on Glenn, turning him from a brooding guy that no one wanted to be around. Although Daryl could thank her for bringing his laughing, happy friend back. No, the best part was that she'd brought a plethora of gear and medicine with her. Her collection of hunting knives had already proven their value countless times. Besides those, she'd brought along light but sturdy cookware which had made their meals that much more enjoyable, even if it was still the same old mix of squirrel, rabbit and the occasional deer. The best thing though, which in Daryl's opinion had been an absolute stroke of genius on her part, was a large book stating the names, definitions, and photographs of the numerous and diverse types of edible plants and flowers. The book even had a section dedicated to plants that had medicinal properties. Daryl considered that book to be one of their most valuable possessions. Lori and Maggie had already used it to identify several herbs that had made their meals infinitely more tasty. Maggie had even returned one day carrying several leaves that had proven to make a rather flavorful type of tea. Yes, he mused, Maggie falling for Glenn had proven invaluable to them all.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of wings flying close by. Freezing, he looked in the direction of the large hawk that had come to rest in a tree nearby. He'd been tracking it for over an hour, hoping it would lead him to its nest. He knew it was female by the plumage under its chest, and he also knew that if he found its nest there would be enough eggs to feed the entire group. After several days of disappointingly small kills, they were all in need of a little protein. He walked with practiced steps, silent and cautious over the forest floor, watching the way the hawks head moved. If it was near its nest, it would watch for predators before flying to its eggs. Daryl watched, noting the anxious way it tilted its head back and forth, looking around. A sudden snapping of twigs made the bird alight into the air. Daryl cursed, looking up to see the perpetrator was a young squirrel. It jumped over him into the next tree, showering him with leaves and twigs, and Daryl cursed again. There was no way he was going to find the nest now. The hawk had stayed generally close to this area so he knew the nest was close, but unless he was willing to spend several hours looking, he was out of luck.

He looked toward the sun, knowing he only had a few hours left of daylight, and decided to make his way back. Unless Rick and Shane had had better luck than he on the hunt, the group would just have to deal with his squirrels and rabbit. He was more than willing to stay the night and hope to luck out with a deer, but he was tired and just wanted to sleep. It wouldn't be the first time he'd spent a night away from the group to make a catch. He was more than willing to sleep in a tree, undoubtedly he was more knowledgeable about spending the night in the wilderness than anyone he'd ever met. But after so many days of no good catches he just wanted to pack it in for once.

Slinging his brace of squirrels over his shoulder, he began the walk back to camp following the landmarks he'd made note of earlier. He was just heading back towards the creek when he noticed a thin deer trail heading up towards the hills. Well, he thought, maybe today wouldn't be a total waste after all. He followed the trail, looking closely for fresh tracks. After twenty minutes if finding nothing, he was beginning to get frustrated. But, he reasoned, if him spending the night in the woods would help to find a deer, he'd do it. Besides, he'd been quite clear about making sure everyone knew not to go out on some half-brained rescue mission if he didn't show up before nightfall. More likely than not, he'd be stalking prey and they'd be only a hindrance. So, he'd made up his mind, and started scouting a good place to camp. It wasn't going to be a cold night, so a tree with thick branches would have to do.

A mile into the woods and he still hadn't found a place to his liking. The branches were either too high to climb, or too low to keep him safe from predators. A large log blocked his path, and he was climbing over it when he noticed the edges. On closer inspection, his suspicions were proven. This branch had been cut down by someone. Arming his crossbow, he looked around. He heard and saw no one, but wouldn't take the chance of being caught offguard. Looks like this'll be an interesting night after all, he thought dryly. Deciding to head further into the woods, he once more began making his way through the undergrowth. Ever on the lookout for either walkers, prey, or now, other humans, he made steady progress through the forest.

Steady progress that is until he was forced to stop after coming upon the most unusual thing he'd seen in a while. A deep trench, at least nine feet deep, and six feet across blocked his path in either direction. He looked at it, scrunching his face in confusion.

"The fuck?" Were the first words he'd spoken out loud all day. This trench was anything but natural, the edges and bottom were too straight. Someone had dug this. Daryl's interest was piqued and he decided to follow it for a ways to see where it led. After ten minutes of walking though, he still couldn't see where it ended. There was a tree leaning over the edge and he began picking his way around it.

"Shit!" Was the next word out of his mouth as he lost his footing, slid down the mud, and helplessly fell into the trench. He landed hard on his side, splattering mud and leaves across his face and arm. Cursing, he stood up, looking up towards the top of the trench. It was deeper than he'd thought. He picked up his crossbow, and tried to pull himself up, quickly sliding back into the mud. There was no way out that he could see, so he picked the only choice he had. He began walking, stopping every so often to see if there were any hanging vines or other ways of getting out. There weren't.

After another fifteen minutes of walking, Daryl began to realize he was walking in a circle. How long this circle trench was, though, he had yet to figure out. He assumed he'd gone about a quarter of a mile when he finally heard what he'd been waiting for. Footsteps. They got closer and he turned toward them, crossbow raised.

"Hey!" He called out. "Who's up there?" A head appeared above him, one he had hoped he wouldn't see, but was unsurprised judging by the luck he'd had so far that day. The walker was grotesque, its eyes filmed over and a cheek missing. The hair hung in limp strands around the face. Daryl couldn't even tell if it was male or female. Either way, he let loose a well-aimed arrow into its skull. It dropped and he dodged its body as it fell into the ditch beside him. He looked at it for a moment, and went to pull his arrow out. He hadn't gone two steps before arms were around him, a gargled growling filling his ears. Flinging his body forward in a practiced move, he flung the walker over his shoulder. His crossbow went with it, landing behind the walker, this one definitely female. He dodged another attack, kicking out and tripping it. He flung himself toward his weapon, unsheathing his hunting knife from his boot. The walker was on him before he had time to turn around, and he lashed out with his knife, slicing it across the neck. It's head hung slightly off at an awkward angle, but didn't stop it from lunging at him. He raised his knife, ready to thrust it through the bitch's head, when a shot rang out, echoing around him. The walker dropped, a bullet hole in its head.

Looking up, he saw a man pointing the gun at him. He slowly raised his hands in surrender, thinking the motion was a little more than silly seeing as how he couldn't get to the man to attack him anyway.

"Huh." The man grunted. "So you're not a walker...I just assumed." Something about the voice tickled Daryl's memory.

"Are you gonna help me outta here or what?" He asked, walking over to retrieve his crossbow.

"That depends." The man said, watching him. "If I let you out, are you gonna use that big intimidating knife against me?" The sarcastic tone flared in his memory again, and he looked up, but the angle in which the man stood shadowed his face.

"I aint gonna kill you if that's what you mean." Daryl replied, slinging his bow over his shoulder. "But I would appreciate you lowering your gun." The man continued to watch him, but didn't lower his weapon. Daryl just rolled his eyes and retrieved his arrow from the first walkers skull. He wiped the brains off on some leaves, and turned his attention back to the man.

"S'pose I should say thanks." He said.

"A polite person would." Was his snarky answer. That tone again...Daryl looked up.

"Look," Daryl said, his patience thin. "I've been wandering around in this fucking trench for half an hour, and the sun is starting to set. Are you going to help me out or not?" The man raised his eyebrows.

"Well, since you asked so nicely." He said sarcastically. He disappeared for a second and came back with a long pole with a hook attached. Daryl looked at it, quirking an eyebrow.

"It's all I got." He answered the unasked question. "It's the easiest way of getting the bodies out. Sometimes I have to actually go down myself, but these ones look pretty light."

"So you...what, dug this?" Daryl asked, grabbing onto the pole and stepping into the bend of the hook.

"Took nearly a year." The man said. He began to haul Daryl up and Daryl helped by digging his free hand into the muddy wall and pulling himself up. He was just about over the edge when he looked up and finally got a proper look at the man.

"Holy shit!" The shocked words fell out of his mouth as recognition hit him. He lost his grip and fell back into the trench.

"Well howdy-do to you, too." The man said, watching Daryl pick himself out of the mud. But Daryl was too shocked to care.

"Morgan?" He exclaimed once he'd spit the mud out of his mouth. He gaped at the man, fully taking in his appearance for the first time. Daryl had been only seventeen when he'd last seen Morgan Chilres. And this man standing above him couldn't be...just couldn't. Daryl stared at him, taking in the tall man. Same angled face, same thick dark hair, same green eyes. Eyes that were now looking down at him in wary confusion.

"Shit..." Daryl whispered.

"Uh, sorry, do I know you?" Morgan asked. Daryl had to swallow, forcing himself to focus. He cleared his throat and motioned for Morgan to lower the hook again. Daryl climbed up quickly, this time without ending up with a mouthful of mud. He stood up, looking at Morgan, still stunned.

"So..." Morgan said. "How exactly did you- HOLY SHIT!" Daryl just raised his eyebrow, nodding. Morgan gaped at him. The shock Daryl had felt just a moment earlier reflected back at him. He waited for Morgan to collect himself, which he did quickly. "Well, I'll be damned...Daryl fucking Dixon." Morgan grinned and pounded his fist against Daryl's shoulder. "How the hell have you been? No, wait, screw that. How the FUCK did you get here?"

"I fell in your fucking trench, Morgan." Daryl said, fighting a smile.

"Yeah, I see that." He said. "Did you also fall into, and then roll around in a dump?" Daryl rolled his eyes

"Excuse me for surviving." Daryl quipped. "But it's not like I can take a hot shower anytime I want."

"Hmm." Morgan grunted. "Well if memory serves, you were never that concerned with personal hygiene to begin with." Daryl opened his mouth for a retort but noticed Morgan's smirk. He just shook his head. Morgan grinned. "It's good to see you again Daryl."

"Huh." Daryl grunted noncommittally. Morgan watched him for a minute, his expression unreadable. After a moment, he simply shrugged and began to walk away. Daryl watched him, still slightly shell-shocked. Morgan turned back to him.

"Well?" He said. "Are you waiting for a formal invitation or what?" Daryl grinned in spite of himself, and followed.

"So...what the hell happened?" He asked, quickly catching up. They continued walking, Daryl following without hesitation.

"What exactly do you want to know?" Morgan asked.

"Well, everything I guess." Daryl answered. "How'd you end up all the way out here? Last I heard you were still in Massachusetts."

"Yeah, well I was until the outbreak. I tried to do what I could, but once it became clear there was no stopping it, I decided to come back home. By that point they'd cut off communications so I didn't know if my family was safe or not. By the time I got there, everyone had left. So, I came here hoping they would somehow show up, but so far nobody's come." Daryl looked at him. So, he'd come back home...by that point Daryl and Merle had already left. If he'd known Morgan was gonna show up, maybe he wouldn't have been so eager to split town. He shook his head. Nothing bothered him more than brooding on what-if's. They helped nobody and only resulted in driving oneself crazy.

"Merle and me got out pretty quick." He said. "Took daddy's guns and supplies, and got the hell out. None too soon, either. The next day they blew the place to kingdom come." Morgan glanced at him.

"Yeah, I thought the place looked different." He said.

"See you haven't lost your sarcasm." Daryl observed. Morgan chuckled.

"Yeah, well, having a sense of humor is important if you ask me. The whole damn world goes to shit, so if you can't laugh I'd say there's not much else to do except give up and go lie in a ditch...Oh, wait, you've already done that." Daryl shoved him lightly.

"How the hell did you do that, anyway?" He asked, truly curious. "I mean, you'd had to have had some sort of equipment."

"I had a trench digger, but about halfway through the job, the damn thing broke. Had to finish it by hand, well by shovel technically. But like I said, it took me about a year to finish."

"But why? I mean, what's the point?" Daryl asked. Morgan gave him an amused look.

"Dixon, I know you were never the genius type, but even you must see the advantages of a ten-foot deep trench surrounding your house. I mean, after I finished it I haven't had even one walker anywhere near my cabin. It's completely cut-off. You're the first person I've seen in months to be honest."

"Shit, really?" Daryl was surprised.

"Yeah." Morgan said. They continued walking and soon came to a small log cabin.

"Fuck..." Daryl exclaimed. "You built this?" This time Morgan didn't stop himself from laughing.

"Did the end of the world really effect your memory that badly?" He asked. Daryl continued to look at the cabin, then his memory clicked. This was Morgan's family cabin. He'd brought Daryl here once years ago. Shit, Daryl thought, am I really that far gone that I didn't even recognize where I was? He'd been through these woods before. It was true he'd only been here once, and he'd been a bit drunk at the time, but if there was one thing he really prided himself on, it was his ability to recognize landmarks, even if he'd only seen a place once.

"Right." He said. "Yeah, I remember now." He said, clearing his throat uncomfortably.

"It was a long time ago." Morgan said. They stood a moment, neither one talking. Daryl ran a hand through his hair.

"So." He broke the silence, unsure what to say next. Morgan looked at him and quirked his mouth into a smile.

"C'mon, Dixon." He said, leading the way inside. Daryl followed.

The inside was much the same as he remembered. The only noticeable difference was the small arsenal of shotguns hanging on the wall. "So much for your views on gun control." He mused, waving toward the wall where they hung. Morgan glanced at them and grinned.

"Yeah, well, witnessing corpses trying to eat you can change your views on certain things." He answered. Daryl just nodded.

He continued looking around, refamiliarizing himself with the cabin. A wave if nostalgia hit him, and he sighed. He'd had some good times in this cabin. Morgan watched him as he moved around the room.

"So, I was thinking about having some dinner. Haven't eaten since this morning." Daryl nodded. "But...oh, this is awkward...how do I put this politely?...There is absolutely no way in hell I'm letting you near my dining table looking and smelling like a side of raw pork that's been thrown in dog shit and left in the sun for too long..." Daryl met his eyes, and seeing the smirk, couldn't help but laugh.

"Yeah, I s'pose I've been a little, ah...lax when it comes to bathing."

"Well, go and take care of that, and I'll get some food ready." Morgan said. Daryl needed no second bidding. He'd never put a huge emphasis on personal hygiene, not that he hadn't showered regularly before the outbreak. But other things had since taken precedence. Such as daily survival.

He headed to the back of the cabin where he remembered the bathroom being. Noticing the photographs hanging on the wall, he stopped to look at them. There was Morgan's parents, smiling from the living room of their house. And in the next photo, Morgan's sister, laughing and waving. Daryl hadn't given the Chilres's much thought since he'd left, but now felt a pang of guilt for at least not seeing if they were alright before he'd left. They were as close to family as he'd had, besides Merle. But Merle had been so crazy that morning, had packed their things in such a rush that Daryl hadn't had time to do anything but follow. And then, only a few days later, Morgan had returned looking for them...Daryl sighed. Like he said, what-if's never helped anyone. He turned away from the photos and headed for the bathroom.

It wasn't stocked like he remembered, no girly toiletries spilling over the sink, no medicine or toothbrushes or shaving tools in the cabinet. There was one flat razor, a half empty bottle of shampoo, and several bars of soap underneath the sink. Daryl took a much needed piss in the toilet, surprised when it actually flushed. He undressed and turned on the hot tap. Icy water ran over his hand and he sighed. It was too much to hope that there would be hot water. But he was shocked when the cold water slowly became warmer, and finally turned scalding hot.

"No fucking way." Daryl shook his head in wonderment. Instead of turning the handle for the shower, he let the tub fill. After a few minutes he stepped in, cringing slightly as his skin touched the hot water, and slowly sank down. It had been so long since he'd had a proper bath, his bathing ritual usually consisted of freezing creeks and definitely no shampoo. He allowed his sore muscles to relax, letting the hot water wash away the days stress. He still couldn't believe where he was. Who he was with.

The sun had set behind the clouds, and Daryl spared a thought for the group, knew they'd worry even though he often didn't show up before nightfall. But he wasn't too concerned with that at the moment. Instead, he was wondering how exactly he would manage getting himself out of this tub when he was so relaxed. The last time he was here, he was fifteen and Morgan had driven them both up for a week in the summer. And just like that, he was back...

"C'mon, Dixon, get your ass outta the car." Morgan called to him as he grabbed his bag from the trunk. "We've got this place to ourselves, and I wanna show you the best place to fish before it gets dark." Daryl followed him into the cabin, still surprised that Morgan's father had let him drive all the way up here even though he'd barely had his license a week.

"It's called trust, Dixon, you should try it sometime." Morgan had told him when he'd asked earlier that day.

"Yeah, well I trust people about as far as I can throw 'em." Was his reply. Morgan had simply laughed. They'd thrown their bags into the front entrance and headed back out into the woods.

"So my dad showed me the lake last time we came up here." Morgan said. "But I'm complete shit when it comes to that. So it looks like you'll have to be the one keeping us fed."

"That right?" Daryl said. "Seems to me like the one who's the guest shouldn't have to do the work." Morgan shrugged.

"Suit yourself, Dixon, but I hope you don't mind starvation, cuz that's what's gonna happen if you leave the cooking up to me." Daryl had laughed then.

"You really are useless aren't you?" He asked. Morgan answered by tripping him...

Their week at the cabin had gone by swiftly, the days spent walking the trails, fishing, and laughing. The nights were filled with more laughing, card playing, and Morgan's obsession with trying to teach Daryl how to play chess, and Daryl trying to show Morgan simple knots for snares. There was also the fact that Morgan's father never locked his liquor cabinet. By the time they left, that cabinet was minus four whiskey bottles...

Daryl smiled at the memory. That was the last time he'd been truly happy, he realized with a pang of sadness. Not worrying about Merle's stints in jail, not wondering if his daddy was coming home that night, not having to make a fire in the yard because the electricity had been shut off again. He breathed in, letting the steam of the water fill his lungs, and sank back into the memory...

The last night was halfway through. They'd be heading back home in the morning. Daryl had finished almost half a bottle of whiskey, Morgan had taken care of the other half. The cards lay in a jumbled pile on the coffee table, the chess pieces strewn across the floor. Morgan was attempting to start a fire in the fireplace but couldn't focus for long enough to light the match. Daryl was laughing at him.

"Well if you're so damn capable, get your ass over here and light it then." He said. Daryl hoisted himself up from the floor, stumbling a bit, and walked over to Morgan. He grabbed the matches and attempted to light one. Instead he reduced the rest of them to tinder. It was Morgan's turn to laugh.

"Well well well, ladies and gentlemen, the great Daryl Dixon, survivalist extraordinaire..." Morgan said, waving to an imaginary audience. "I think my point has been proven."

"Shut up." Daryl said. "We don't need no fire anyway, it's not even cold out."

"Yeah, but it's the whole part of the 'cabin in the woods' thing, isn't it?" Morgan asked, raising his fingers in air quotes. "We haven't lit it this whole time. And plus, since we're leaving tomorrow I wanted to light it at least once." Daryl watched him through hazy eyes for a minute, then heaved a sigh.

"The shit I put up with for you." He muttered, and stood to go to the kitchen. After several minutes of searching, he finally found a lighter in one of the drawers. He half walked, half stumbled back into the living room. He grabbed the bottle of lighter fluid from the coffee table and sprayed it on the logs. They lit easily now, and Daryl fell back onto the floor, pushing back against the couch. Morgan crawled over and settled in next to him. They watched the flames for a while, the logs crackling peacefully.

"Thanks." Morgan mumbled. Daryl nodded and let his head fall back onto the cushions. He must have passed out soon after because when he woke up, the fire was dying, and Morgan was asleep next to him, his body curled up on the floor, his head resting against Daryl's thigh. Daryl watched him for a while, his profile glowing in the flickering firelight. His thoughts weren't defined, just a sort of haze of warmth and a strong feeling of safety. He got up, closing his eyes against the alcohol headache that had begun to set it, and went to the bedroom. He fell on the bed, not bothering to take his clothes off, and fell asleep again.

He woke up with the gray morning peeking through the curtains. It was still mostly dark, but light was beginning to filter in. Daryl groaned, and rolled over. He didn't want to get up yet, wanted to savor the warm feelings he had. He froze when he saw a figure standing in the doorway, immediately relaxing when he saw it was Morgan, silhouetted in the darkness.

"Hey." His voice cracked sleepily. "Sorry, did you want the bed or something?" He made to get up, but Morgan crossed the room without a word, and stopped at the foot of the bed. Daryl opened his mouth to speak, but before he could Morgan was lowering himself onto the bed. He silently crawled toward Daryl and stopped, hovering over him. They just stared at eachother for what felt like a long time. Then slowly, carefully, Morgan lowered his head, his eyes never leaving Daryl's. Daryl didn't move, didn't breath. His thoughts had ground to a halt. All he knew was that Morgan's lips were suddenly on his. He continued to stare, the back of Morgan's eyelids were all he could see. Morgan moved his lips against Daryl's, pressing against him. Their hips met, Morgan grinding gently into him, and it wasn't until then that Daryl realized he was hard. And like a lightning bolt being zapped into his brain, everything came into sharp focus. He reached up and grabbed Morgan's face, pressing their lips tightly together. Morgan responded with an enthusiastic grunt, pressing harder into Daryl, their tongues meeting and clashing in a heated kiss. Daryl could feel Morgan's arousal through his pants, and thrust his hips into Morgan's, groaning at the feeling. At that action, something suddenly clicked for Daryl. The reason he'd never liked making out with Darcy Becker, the reason he'd never cared whether or not he lost his virginity to her. This, what he was doing now, with Morgan Chilres, this felt better than anything he'd ever done with Darcy. Or with any girl for that matter...

Daryl had submerged himself so far under the water, only the top half of his head was visible. His eyes were closed, the perfection of the memories filling his head. He'd discovered a lot of things about himself that night. Mainly that he was way more into guys than he ever thought, more specifically he was into Morgan Chilres. From that point on, they'd spent almost every waking hour together for the rest of the summer. In the fall, though, Morgan had left for MIT where he'd been accepted and granted a scholarship, and Daryl continued his life. Another thing he'd discovered that night was that he absolutely loved-

"Hey, did you drown in there?" Morgan banged on the door, interrupting Daryl's thoughts. "I have dinner out here if you're hungry, and I set some clean clothes out. Don't even try coming out of there wearing those shit-stained rags." Daryl chuckled, moved to get up, realized he was hard, and took an extra few minutes so he could settle down a bit.

He quickly washed himself off, scrubbing his hair and body with the tangy-scented soap. He reluctantly left the warmth of the water, grabbing the towel and drying off. Opening the door a bit, he reached for the clothes Morgan had left him on the chair. He pulled the cotton shirt and jeans on, relishing the feel of clean clothes. The shirt was a bit tight, the pants a bit long. Morgan had always been a bit taller and more lean than he was. He drained the water, and went over to the sink. He'd never cared anything about his looks, but even he had to admit he looked terrible. Lack of sleep and little food had done their work. His eyes were sunken, purple rings underneath gave them a hollow look. His hair, while now clean, had lost the silky sheen it had had when he was younger.

He sighed, deciding to help himself to Morgan's razor. Wetting his face, he made slow progress, using the soap as lather. Ten minutes later, his face was smooth. He quickly raked a comb through his damp hair and walked out.

Morgan was in the kitchen, taking a pot off the gas stove. Daryl inhaled the scents, his mouth immediately watering. He hadn't eaten since the previous day and he was famished. He walked over to Morgan.

"Need any help?" He asked, looking into the pot. A thick stew bubbled inside.

"Nope." Morgan said. "Everything's ready. Just sit down and don't complain. My cooking skills haven't improved much." Daryl chuckled and sat down. Morgan spooned some of the stew into a couple of bowls and brought them over. Daryl dug in, table manners far from his mind. Morgan was a bit more civilized but watched Daryl amusedly.

"Hungry?" He asked sarcastically. Daryl just rolled his eyes, mouth full. The broth was a bit thin, not much in the ways of spiciness, but there were wild carrots, onions, and chunks of meat, and it was hearty and filling. He continued to eat, scraping his bowl clean. Morgan smirked and filled it again. Daryl ate slower this time, taking the opportunity to really observe Morgan. He was sure Morgan was doing the same to him. He hadn't changed much, Daryl thought. He was a bit older, but looked good. Healthy. His eyes were a bit drawn, the stress of the past couple of years apparent. The hardship of daily survival was written all over him. His muscles, once lean and wiry, were now larger, lined with hard strength. Scars and scratches were etched into his arms, one long one reaching from his wrist and curving into the crook of his elbow.

"So," Morgan decided to break the silence. "Tell me everything." Daryl didn't need him to elaborate.

"Not much to tell." He said. "Once Merle and me split, we made our way west for a ways. We didn't meet much people, but after a few months there was this small group we took up with. Merle got himself into a sticky spot with some walkers, and they helped out. At first it was just a few of us, but we got a pretty big group now. There were more of us, but a few got killed. Still, there's enough of us that we can take care of ourselves pretty well."

"How's Merle doing? Last time I saw him, he'd been arrested for holding up that gas station." Morgan asked. Daryl looked away. He knew he'd have to answer that question eventually.

"I'm not sure." He said quietly. "We got separated a few months back...haven't seen him since."

"Shit, Daryl, I'm sorry to hear that." Morgan said. They were quiet for a moment. Daryl stared into his empty bowl, not really seeing it.

"Hey, Daryl..." Morgan looked at him, frowning. "You don't...I mean, you don't blame yourself for that do you? Because even though I haven't seen you since we were kids, I can tell you with complete confidence that it wasn't your fault." Daryl looked up at him. It had always been like this with them. Morgan was able to see exactly what was bothering him.

"I shouldn't have let us separate." This was the first time he'd voiced it out loud, but felt a bit of the guilt lift. "I knew it was a bad idea..."

"Daryl, Merle made his own decisions, too." Morgan said. "You don't have to carry all this guilt with you. And if I know you, I know you did your damndest to get him back." Daryl nodded grimly.

"Damn near got most of our group killed trying to get him back." He replied. "Couldn't find him in the end, though."

"I am sorry about that." Morgan said. "I liked Merle..." They sat for a minute longer. Daryl cleared his throat, expelling the lump that had risen.

"Well, what about you?" He asked.

"My story's not all that interesting." Morgan said. "I got out of Massachusetts as soon as I could. But like I said, not much was left when I got home. I have no idea where my family is, if they're even still alive. I came here hoping to find them. Can't imagine where else they'd go. I'd had the good sense to bring as many supplies with me as I could. I was about ten miles away from here when my car finally broke down. I had to carry the shit I'd brought the rest of the way. Took four trips and two days. But once I'd settled a bit, I realized that if they hadn't shown up by then, they probably wouldn't show up at all."

"Well, you seem to be surviving alright." Daryl noted. "You have running water, for christs sake." Morgan laughed.

"Well you don't really think I got a master's in engineering from MIT and not learned a few things."

"Guess not." Daryl said. "Sure is amazing. I mean, having running water, a working stove...looks like your pretty stocked up here." Morgan nodded.

"Only thing missing is good company." He said. Daryl looked up at him, unsure how to respond. Morgan didn't miss the hesitation, but instead stood up.

"C'mon." He said. Daryl followed him to the living room. Morgan lit a fire with easy practiced steps. They sat on the couch in comfortable silence for a while.

"So." Morgan said. Daryl looked over at him. He was staring into the flames, an odd expression on his face. "Tell me about this group of yours."

Daryl hesitated. "Well, they're alright I suppose. Some better than the others." He shrugged.

"Anyone special?" He asked, looking at Daryl and smiling. Daryl sighed.

"It aint like that. Although, to be honest, I'd drop about half of 'em in a blink."

"I'm shocked." Morgan said sarcastically. "So, who'd you drop?"

"Well, there's this one guy in particular. Shane. At first, he was the one keeping us together. He has this sense of authority. He was a sheriffs deputy. Shit, when I first met him..." Daryl paused, but Morgan nodded for him to continue. "I wanted to fuck him into the ground." Daryl chuckled, hating himself for blushing. Morgan barked a laugh. "Truth is, we were a lot alike. Still are, to a degree. But that thought died out pretty soon." He looked over at Morgan who was silently laughing. He nudged him on the shoulder, shaking he head. "Anyway," he continued. "The only ones I'd do anything for at this point are Carol and Glenn. And I suppose Maggie, seeing as how she and Glenn are kind of a package deal. She's a bit of a spitfire, but can be a pretty decent girl."

"Sounds like you made out alright, then." Morgan said. "Maybe you don't like everyone, but if you've made it this far..." He let the sentence hang.

"Yeah." Daryl nodded. "We've made it this far...But it's starting to seem like we might not make it much further. We've started to unravel. I can't help but think the last thread is coming." He sighed, knowing he was right, but hoping he wasn't. After all, he'd survived the end of the world with these people. He still felt some sort of compassion towards them, however begrudgingly.

"So, if you were to leave, where'd you go?" Morgan asked. Daryl looked at him, knowing it was a loaded question.

"Not sure." He said. "I wouldn't trust any of 'em to take care of Carol, or Glenn for that matter. Tell you the truth, I think Glenn would be just fine. That kid's got some balls on him. Carol, though... She's special. Lost her kid a while back."

"That must've been hard." Morgan said, eyes back on the flames.

"Yeah, it was rough all around." Daryl said. "Spent near a month looking for her. Got herself lost in the woods after a group of walkers came by."

"So, you never found her?" Morgan asked. Daryl turned his eyes away, staring at the picture frames on the mantle.

"Yeah." He said quietly. "We found her." Morgan watched him for a minute, unsure what to say next. Daryl didn't want to hear whatever it was though. "I really thought we had a good shot of finding her. A damn good shot. I tracked that girl for weeks." He said grimly. "Turned out she was in this fucking barn the whole damn time..." He stopped, realizing he was losing his temper all over again. He took long breaths, trying to calm down. He'd been more broken up about losing Sophia than he'd realized. Carol had been the only one to keep him sane. They'd kept eachother sane.

"Hey, Daryl, it's alright man." Morgan said. Daryl looked up at him, ready to jump down his throat, just like he'd done to Rick and Shane and fucking Lori everytime they said the same thing to him, or to Carol. But one look at Morgan, and he was able to calm down.

"Sorry." He said.

"Don't be." Morgan replied. "I can't imagine what you've been through, but don't apologize for acting human." Daryl gave him a half hearted smile.

"What I thought..." Daryl said, hoping it wouldn't sound as pathetic as it did in his head. "What I'd hoped...was that by finding that little girl, it would somehow make up for what happened with Merle." He'd never said that to anyone, although Carol had probably guessed. But it was the truth.

"Listen," Morgan said. "I know you did everything you could. You know how I know that? Because I know you Daryl. You were the kid who beat the living shit out of Tom Brentis because he called your mother a slut. You're the guy who steals a car and leads the cops on a wild chase through town just so your brother won't get arrested for possession...again..." Daryl snorted a laugh. "And you're the kid who survived in the fucking woods when you were fucking nine. So don't beat yourself up, alright?" Daryl didn't know what to say. Morgan was right, of course. Morgan was always right. And plus, he thought, I hate what-if's. And Sophia and Merle are the biggest what-if's in my life. Time to let it go. He looked at Morgan.

"Thanks." Was his simple response. Morgan shrugged.

"Just doing what comes naturally." Morgan grinned. "Daryl Dixon gets himself worked up, and Morgan Chilres speaks a few well-chosen words to bring him back down." Daryl laughed. It was true enough, he thought. They sat in comfortable silence for a while, each in their own thoughts. Finally, Morgan sighed.

"Well, as much of a mind-fuck as this day has been, I'm tired." He said. "I spent last night hauling about four walkers out of the trench. Well, three and a half. The last one was missing it's legs." He shivered. Daryl nodded, getting up.

"Thanks for the meal, Morgan." He said. "It was...well it was fucking good to see you again." He headed for the door.

"Dixon, what the fuck are you doing?" Morgan asked, looking completely baffled. "I'm not telling you to leave. I have an extra blanket and pillow, you're staying here. For the night at least, and longer if you want."

"I, uh..."

"Jesus, Daryl, do you really think I'd let you out there by yourself, especially at night?" Morgan seemed genuinely hurt. "You don't even know how to get across my trench. I'll have to show you tomorrow. You're sleeping here, no arguing." Daryl just looked at him a moment, then laughed.

"Shit, Morgan, I didn't mean to offend you." Daryl said, putting his hands up in mock surrender. "Alright, I'll sleep here." Morgan nodded, seeming satisfied. He went to the closet and grabbed a blanket and pillow. Daryl settled on the couch, rearranging the cushions a bit. He watched Morgan bustle around for a minute.

"Well, uh...'night." Morgan said.

"Thanks, Morgan." Daryl said. Morgan nodded, and headed to the bedroom.

Daryl settled back, his tiredness from the afternoon forgotten, his thoughts jumbled and racing. Morgan fucking Chilres... He thought. He never thought he'd see him again, not ever. Hoped, of course. He'd even dreamed about it on occasion, when his dreams weren't filled with images of walkers. Those were the good dreams. He moved his head around, getting comfortable. Thoughts and memories soon drifted into a dull haze of semi-consciousness as he lay there, warm and full for the first time in months. The smell of the cabin took him back to his childhood, back to days where his universe revolved around getting Merle out of trouble, getting his daddy to try and sober up, and Morgan... Morgan laughing at him as he fell out of a tree, Morgan cringing as Daryl moved his chess rook diagonally for the fifth time, Morgan trying to tutor him in calculus, saying how easy it was and it was no big deal for him to waste his Saturdays trying to help so Daryl wouldn't have to repeat the tenth grade, which he'd ended up having to do anyway. Morgan inviting him over for dinner because they were friends, not because he knew Daryl all too likely hadn't eaten that day. Morgan telling him how he was going to be an engineer, going to work for NASA... Morgan hugging him, Morgan holding him, Morgan kissing him...Morgan making Daryl feel like the whole world could go to shit and it wouldn't matter because they were together...

Daryl opened his eyes. He'd fallen asleep without realizing it. The fire was dying, but it was still dark outside. Daryl looked at the shadows, guessing it to be around three a.m. He got up and headed to the bathroom. The cabin was dark and quiet, almost eerie. He made his way to the bathroom from memory, the hallway was pitch black. Hoping the sound of the flush wouldn't wake Morgan, he started to walk back to the living room. Changing his mind halfway there, he turned and went to Morgan's room. The door was open a bit, and he looked in. His eyes had adjusted to the dark somewhat, and he could just make out Morgan's form, lying in pale moonlight across his bed. Daryl bit his lip, wanting nothing more than to go in there and try to find some form of comfort. Instead, he turned back around.

"I looked for you, you know." Morgan called out quietly. Daryl paused. "When I came back home, after I looked for my family, I headed straight to your house."

"Did you." Daryl said, turning around. "And why was that?"

"Why do you think?" Morgan was sitting up now, watching Daryl.

"Couldn't tell you." He answered. Morgan stood up, walking over to him.

"Jesus, Daryl are you really that dense?" Morgan said. "I was fucking terrified. I thought my family was dead. I still do. You were all I had left. The moment I realized you were gone-"

"Yeah, and how did you know I wasn't already dead." Daryl said, getting defensive in spite of himself. Morgan just watched him.

"I knew." He said. "Of all the people in that fucking town, of all of them, I knew if there was one person, one person who would've gotten out, it was gonna be Daryl Dixon. You and Merle... I mean there was no doubt in my mind that you were alive. I waited for you to come back, hoping there was a slim chance you might. And when I finally gave up to come here and realized my family were still missing, you were the only person I knew who'd eventually find his way here."

"Well I'm here now." Daryl said. "So now what?"

"I don't know." Morgan said, shrugging. "It was almost too much to hope that you'd come here on your own, knowing I'd be here. You having your own little band of survivors didn't surprise me at all, but you not even knowing where you were until you saw me today...I've gotta be honest, that hurt like hell." Daryl didn't know how to respond to that.

"Well I'm sorry." He said. "But I've spent the last year killing myself, trying my damndest to survive-"

"I'm not asking for your apologies." Morgan cut in.

"Yeah, well it sure seems like it." Daryl said. "So, what the fuck are you asking for?"

"Dammit, Daryl, I don't know." Morgan said, looking up at Daryl. He looked so vulnerable in that moment, all the fight that was in Daryl just fell out.

"I should have looked for you." He conceded. "But I'm here now." Morgan shook his head, opened his mouth to speak, and was interrupted by Daryl's lips. A sharp intake of breath from Morgan turned into a slow sigh through his nostrils as Daryl grabbed him, pushing him against the wall. Daryl, who'd prided himself on his self-control when it came to things like this, threw it all out the window as he pushed against Morgan, his hands pressing firmly against his torso, moving along his ribs, over his chest, up into his hair. Morgan pulled him in, raking fingers across his back. Their tongues collided, exploring, claiming the other. Morgan's fingers knotted in Daryl's hair, and Daryl pinned him against the wall with his hips, grinding into him. He felt Morgan's hardness straining against his thigh and almost lost it right then and there. Groaning, he kissed him harder, moving his lips along his jaw, tasting him, feeling him. Morgan's hands were under his shirt, moving over his stomach, across his chest. Daryl licked over his neck, biting gently. Morgan groaned, pulling his shirt collar down to kiss along his shoulder. Daryl pulled back a moment, pulled his shirt over his head and threw it on the floor. Morgan's shirt followed, and their lips smashed together once again, bodies grinding urgently. Morgan hissed as Daryl shoved his hips into him, both of them completely hard. Daryl moved his lips down Morgan's chest, biting and licking as he went, refamiliarizing himself with the taste and scent. He sank slowly to his knees, his hands placed firmly against Morgan's hips. He pulled down his pants, watching hungrily as his cock sprung out. He took a second to look at it, not realizing until that moment just exactly how much he'd missed this. One thing he truly loved about sex with guys, completely and utterly loved doing, ever since he was fifteen and had discovered it with Morgan, was sucking cock. He'd never admit it to anyone, but he had a feeling Morgan already knew. He pulled Morgan's hips to him, and wrapped his lips around his cock, shoving it in his mouth as far as it would go, and slowly slowly sliding it back out.

"Fuuuck..." Morgan moaned. Daryl grinned, pushing his head forward again, taking more into his mouth. Morgan moaned again, tangling his hands in Daryl's hair. Daryl slid his mouth down the length, moving his tongue around the head in slow, lazy circles. Morgan exhaled hotly, gripping Daryl's hair harder. Daryl wanted to draw this out, make it last as long as he could. It had been far too long since he'd blown a guy, and it being Morgan made it all the more special. He made slow progress, moving Morgan's hips with him, in and out, loving the feel of it in his mouth, the taste, the scent of arousal. When Morgan began to leak pre-cum, Daryl's own cock throbbed, aching to be touched. He ignored it, knowing it'd be taken care of later. He sucked the pre-cum into his mouth, savoring it. He moved his mouth down to Morgan's balls, licking and sucking gently. Morgan was completely lost, eyes closed, head thrown back. Daryl grinned again, and knew he was close. He moved back up to his cock, and began a steady rhythm. Back and forth, in and out, faster, harder, deeper. Morgan moaned, biting his lip.

"Fuck...Daryl...oh my go-oohhh!" Morgan came hard in his mouth, Daryl feeling, tasting, each stream as it shot out. He sucked hard, wanting every last bit, swallowing it eagerly. He slowed his rhythm, letting Morgan ride out his orgasm in Daryl's mouth. Morgan sunk down in front of Daryl, pulling him in for a deep kiss.

"Fuck you're good at that." Morgan breathed against his lips. Daryl grinned, grazing his tongue over Morgan's bottom lip.

"Haven't done it in quite some time." He whispered back. "Guess it's like riding a bicycle. You taste just as good as I remember." Morgan laughed, and pulled Daryl back against him, kissing him deeply.

They made their way to the bed, arms grasping, tongues and teeth clashing. The last of their clothes were quickly discarded. Morgan pushed Daryl down, taking a moment to gaze at him. He smiled, biting his lip before crawling over him, bringing their mouths back together. Daryl pulled him close, wrapping his arms tightly around him. It was all tongues, arms, limbs, grinding and writhing together. Daryl was breathless, heart beating wildly as feelings and memories were brought back with painful clarity. Morgan, the first person he'd ever fucked, the first person he'd ever allowed himself to be completely open with. He wanted, needed to savor this moment.

Morgan pulled back, getting to his feet. Daryl growled in disapproval, but Morgan just grinned wickedly. "Just one second." He whispered, and disappeared out the door. Daryl lay back, pushing his hands through his hair. It was cold in here and he missed the warmth of Morgan immediately. He reappeared a few seconds later with a plastic bottle.

"What's that?" Daryl asked. Morgan answered by handing it to him, and climbing back on top of him.

"It's all I have." He said, pulling Daryl's face back to his. Daryl looked at it, realized it was a bottle of cooking oil.

"I can't let you waste this." Daryl said, though his cock was pretty much screaming at him at this point.

"Daryl, I've used it all of three times since I've been here." Morgan said. He rolled over, pulling Daryl on top of him. "I have three more bottles, and I barely use them. I haven't been properly fucked in, well...to be honest I haven't been properly fucked since my last time with you. So-" Daryl cut him off with his mouth. He kissed him deeply, unscrewing the lid to the bottle of oil. "That's more like it." Morgan grinned into his mouth. Daryl poured the smooth liquid on his hands, never breaking contact with Morgan, and rubbed it over his throbbing cock. He poured a bit more out and massaged it over Morgan's entrance, eliciting a pleasured hiss from the other man. He brought his hand back up, working it through Morgan's hair, along his jaw, down his chest. He kissed him, trailing love bites down his neck, into his shoulder. Slowly, he worked a finger inside, Morgan moaned and bit his lip. He began a slow rhythm, sliding in and out, and soon added another finger, massaging and stretching him open.

"Goddamn Dixon..." Morgan groaned. Daryl licked hotly down his torso, grazing tongue teeth and lips down his muscled stomach, keeping his fingers working, pressing harder and deeper. He brushed his lips along his inner thigh, bringing his lips back up to Morgan's renewed arousal. He tickled the tip with his tongue, barely touching it. Morgan moaned, scratching at Daryl's shoulder, his legs wrapped themselves around his back, pulling him up. Their lips met, crashed together. Daryl felt Morgan's erection against his own as Morgan grasped his hips, pulling him down, grinding them together. Daryl just about lost it right there, but forced himself to hold back. He grabbed Morgan's thighs, forcing them apart. Brushing his entrance with his cock, he slowly pushed in. He stopped, pulled back out, and in again. Morgan thrust up into him, and Daryl complied, sinking deeper into him, working his way inside. He groaned, feeling Morgan tighten around him as he pulled out.

"Daryl, for fuck's sake." Morgan moaned, pulling him down harder. Daryl obliged, thrusting deeper, harder, until he was fully inside. He slid out, back in, beginning a rhythm of deep, fast thrusting, and slow extraction. They were both moaning, breathing heavily into eachother, hearts racing, sweat mixing. Daryl picked up his speed, pushing in faster, thrusting deeply. Morgan moved with him, grinding hard into him. Daryl felt close, knew he wouldn't last long, and reached down for Morgan's cock. He stroked him, matching it to his own rhythm of thrusting. Morgan was completely lost, eyes wide, head thrown back. Daryl used his free hand to pull him in for a long kiss. He was close, so close, pushing deeper, faster. Morgan exhaled sharply, locking eyes with Daryl, who looked back, watched as his green eyes mirrored his own complete loss of control. Daryl felt Morgan release into his hand, stroking him harder a few more times. His own orgasm followed after a few more hard thrusts, he emptied himself inside Morgan, riding it out. He slid down, licking the mess off of Morgan's stomach, relishing the flavor. Daryl collapsed beside him, breathing fast, a dizzying high washing over him. They both lay for several minutes, the only sound being their harsh breaths.

"Fuck that was good." Morgan spoke, turning toward Daryl. "It has been way too fucking long." Daryl nodded his agreement, closing his eyes and smiling. He moved up, turning over until he faced Morgan. They watched eachother for a while in comfortable silence. Morgan leaned his head in for a short sweet kiss, Daryl reached out and rested his hand behind his neck.

"I'm still trying to wrap my head around this." Daryl said. "I mean, I never thought I'd see you again, let alone actually get to do this." He motioned between them. Morgan grinned.

"Like I said, I spent plenty of time hoping you'd find your way here somehow." Morgan said. His eyes were intense, and such a vivid green that Daryl found himself almost drowning in them. He didn't know how to approach the inevitable subject of his departure in the morning, but knew he'd have to at some point. "So, how soon do you think you have to leave?" Morgan said, beating him to it. Daryl watched him for a moment, gathering his words.

"I should probably leave as soon as it's light." He replied. "Otherwise they'll come looking for me. And I don't want them finding you here."

"And why's that?" Morgan asked, brushing his hand along Daryl's jaw.

"We just left a safe, well-supplied farm not too long ago." Daryl explained. "Most of 'em are still sore about it. If they find this place, there'll be more than a few who'll think it's as good a place as any to set up some kind of residence. They way things turned out at the farm...It's just better they don't know. I don't want you in danger."

"What if I said I wanted you little ragtag team of misfits to come here." Morgan said. "I mean, it's lonely as hell out here. I'd like a bit of a change, welcome it even, if it meant you getting to stay." Daryl pulled him closer, their foreheads almost resting together.

"Morgan, we have some unstable people in our group. I wouldn't put it past them to try and take out someone they see as a threat. Here you are with you nice big cabin, well-protected from walkers, in the middle of a forest just bursting with easy hunting grounds. You have fuel, a clean water source...hell you've got running water, and hot water at that. It wouldn't be long before they'd want to take over."

"Daryl, I don't mind sharing." Morgan said, his tone pleading. "I can't just give you up so easily again. It killed me the first time."

"I know, but things are different now." He said. "The world's different." He thought about Glenn, and Maggie. He didn't want to loose them. And Carol, so gentle and kind. She'd been more of a mother to him in the past few months than his own mother had ever been. He couldn't face leaving her. Who would protect her if he left? Surely Rick would try, but his family always took priority. He closed his eyes. No, he thought, I won't abandon her. Morgan was watching him with sadness.

"I'm not gonna try to make you stay." He finally said. "But I hope you know that I'd do anything to change your mind." Daryl nodded.

"I know." He said. "And I'm glad you're not making this harder than it needs to be."

"I'll show you the way out tomorrow." Morgan sighed, pulling Daryl's head against his chest. "For now, though, let's just...just..."

"Be." Daryl whispered. He felt Morgan nodding.

...

Morning came swiftly, the gleam of the sun landing on Daryl and rousing him from the most peaceful sleep he'd had in months. He looked down, watching Morgan sleep. He looked beautiful, tranquil in sleep, the lines of stress Daryl had noticed the day before smoothed over. He slowly extracted himself from Morgan's arms, being careful not to wake him. He stood up and made his way to the bathroom. He didn't want to leave, didn't want to face going back out there where every day was a struggle for survival. The only thing he wanted to do was go back to bed, back to the warm comfort and safety of Morgan's arms. But he was a realist if nothing else. He washed up, splashing water over his face. He helped himself to a bit of Morgan's toothpaste, scrubbing it around his mouth with a finger. He walked out, expecting Morgan to still be asleep, but the bed was empty.

"Morgan?" He called out.

"Kitchen!" Was the answering call. He made his way to the kitchen where Morgan was busy heating up something on the stove. Daryl inhaled deeply, groaning as the smell washed over him. It had been too long since he'd had real coffee.

"Thought you might like this." Morgan smiled at him. He poured the deep brown liquid into a mug and handed it to Daryl who took a scalding sip. It was rich and delicious, Daryl closed his eyes, savoring it. Morgan chuckled.

"So, I was thinking." Morgan said, and Daryl looked at him.

"Something you do far too often." Daryl offered. Morgan just grinned.

"I know you gotta leave, even though I'd do just about anything to change your mind. But I know you better than anyone in this world, including yourself. I know you'll make your way back here eventually." He said.

"Morgan-" Daryl started, but Morgan held up a hand.

"I'm not saying it's gonna be tomorrow, or next week. But at some point you're going to realize that this is the only place you've got to go. So, I'm not gonna get all mushy and tell you goodbye, or please stay, or even I love you...which I do, Dixon. Always have. Instead I'm going to tell you to look after yourself and don't go doing something reckless and get yourself killed. Because I fully intend to have you back here with me where you belong." Daryl was speechless. He didn't know how to respond to all that. So he did what he always did in these situations. He said exactly what he was thinking.

"There's only a precious few people left in this world I care about. You top the list." It was simple and inelegant, but then, so was Daryl. Morgan smiled.

"Also," Morgan said. "I shot a deer and hauled it around back yesterday before I found you. I want you to take it back to your group. And before you argue, I have more than enough food here, and believe it or not, I've become a decent hunter." Daryl knew this was the least he could do at this point, so he simply nodded.

Morgan led him around back where he'd built a sort of smokehouse for his meat. The deer was already cut into pieces, and Morgan piled them into Daryl's pack. It was heavy, but it meant dinner for everyone. Daryl slung it over his shoulder, along with his crossbow. Morgan led the way into the woods, heading slightly east. They walked for a while, neither talking. Daryl made mental notes of the landmarks, now easily remembering them.

The walk back took much shorter than it had the previous day. Sooner than he wanted, they were back at the trench. He watched as Morgan went over to a tree.

"Up and over, Dixon." He said. Morgan then commenced climbing the tree, picking through the thick branches. Daryl followed, nimbly making his way quickly up the tree. Morgan was almost fifty feet in the air when Daryl caught up. They were on a thick branch that forked at the trunk with another even thicker branch. Daryl balanced on it, placing his weight on his left leg. He looked around, trying to figure out if Morgan expected him to jump to the tree across the trench. He was about to ask when he noticed a ladder rope tied to the trunk. It was well-hidden, Daryl knew it would be invisible from the ground. It wound around the trunk and was stretched across to a tree directly across the trench below.

"Well," Morgan said. "The second you decide to return, I'll be waiting." He brushed Daryl's cheek lightly. Daryl leaned into the touch, wishing it could last. All too soon, though, he was pulling away. He climbed onto the ladder, hitching his legs over the rungs and pulling himself across. He made it to the other side and slid onto the branch below. He looked back, barely able to make out Morgan's form in the thick foliage.

"Hey, Dixon!" Morgan called out. "Be seeing you!" And with that, he heard scrabbling as Morgan climbed back down. Daryl waited a moment, then made the climb down to the bottom. He jumped the last few feet, landing lightly on the leafy floor. He turned back around toward the direction of the cabin.

"Be seeing you." He whispered. Hitching his crossbow and deer meat over his shoulder, he turned away and began the trek back to camp.

...

Hope you enjoyed. Just to be clear, this is meant as a one-shot. It's not my intention to continue this story. However, if any of you would like to write a continuation/companion piece, let me know. I'd be totally open to the idea.