A cool breeze rustled the trees outside St. Sarah's Episcopal Church, bristling Michonne's dark skin with goosebumps. Her black eyes strained against the darkness, watching for any sign of danger. No one had asked her to. In fact, Rick invited her to sleep beside him if it'd make her feel better. She politely refused, promising herself no rest until the rest of their group returned. Aside from Garreth's ambush, it'd been a quiet few nights.

Shivering, she longed for her jacket, but it was inside and she didn't want to wake anyone––they'd all had enough for one day. Mind muddled, she took to cleaning her reacquired katana with a rag from her back pocket. The motion was soothing, a simple back and forth that calmed her much like a lullaby did for Judith. As she buffed away the scuffs and scratches on the well-used blade, Michonne's mind wandered idly, drifting to the group.

First to Rick and Carl and Judith, all sleeping soundly on the wooden pews. Rick's beard had gotten rather long and made a silly scuff-scuff sound when he breathed. Then to Glenn and Maggie, who both had an annoying habit of snoring. Sasha and Tyrese were next, and her heart tightened at the haunted look in their eyes since losing Bob.

Poor girl, she thought, remembering how hollow she'd been when she lost Mike. Gabriel came last, the oddest sleeper she'd ever seen. He recited Hail Marys, mumbling verses as he fitfully tossed.

She soon ran out of people to inventory, mind settling on the one thing she'd tried to avoid: worry. Shifting on the hard stoop, she stared at the katana. Strangely, the familiar weapon made her anxious. Looking at it––rather, her warped reflection in it––reminded her of how tired she'd been since he'd left.

Alive, alive, alive, she'd chant whenever her mind got too dark. He's alive and well.

Michonne was no fool. She knew firsthand how dangerous it was for two people to run off. She also knew that Daryl and Carol were close. What she couldn't understand––no matter how many times she'd turned it over in her mind––was why he hadn't told her about his plan, why he ran off unnanounced.

A simple "I've found someone else" would've sufficed, but to vanish? That wasn't like him at all. His departure left her open like a nerve that'd frayed at the ends. They'd danced the dance. Furtive glances, captive smiles, and the culminating heat of their bodies on a cot in Cell Block C––she'd moaned his name that night. He was different with her, more open, less angry; she in turn was different too.

Happier. But that was gone now, his quiet presence like a warm blanket ripped away in the night. Much as she didn't want to admit it, he'd hurt her. She studied her reflection and scowled. Her face was fiercely beautiful as it had always been––strong eyes set in a sharp frame, flared nose, and pillowy lips. Yet to her dismay, there was a streak of worry that made her squirm.

She was no longer stone, having swapped that part of her for smiles and sighs like some teenage girl in love. Stupid, she thought, scolding herself. We don't get soft. Not for him, not for anyone. Silently, she resolved to build the wall again, brick by brick.

The sound of an opening door roused her as Gabriel emerged. He greeted her with a plaintive smile, and she scooted over to give him a seat.

"Couldn't sleep," he said, wringing his hands. "I can still hear their voices when I lay down."

She looked over at him to see a pair of haunted brown eyes in an otherwise-attractive face. He's not cut out for this.

"That won't go away," she replied, offering him a half-smile. The two sat in silence for a moment, tired souls keeping vigil over a dead world."But it won't be all the time."

They hadn't been there long before a noise startled them. It was the distinct crunch and rustle of branches, only made by walkers or live people. Or crossbow-toting hunters, thought Michonne, annoyed that her mind flew there so quickly. She waved Gabriel back inside, knowing he wasn't strong enough to fight anyone on his own.

Carefully, quietly, she made her way from the stoop to the source of the noise––a patch of trees just west of the church doors. Reaching a hand behind her, she readied her sword and peered through the dark forest for a glimpse at what was coming. To her utter surprise, it was exactly who she'd hoped for.

Covered in dirt and panting, her crossbow-toting hunter emerged from the dense trees. Michonne didn't even try to hide her joy, cheeks spread in a smile so wide they nearly split. Alive!

"Hey," hoarsed Daryl. She could see he was tired, but she didn't care. Restraint gone, she crossed the distance between them and peered up into his eyes.

"Where the hell were you?" she asked lowly, remembering the hurt she'd felt just minutes ago. Not too close, he's dangerous, her mind warned weakly; she couldn't bring herself to believe it. Her heart leapt as he laced an arm around her waist and pulled her close.

"Saw the car that took Beth so I took Carol and went after her. Didn't have tha' time to tell ya or I would've." His answer was solid and he held her questioning gaze. She searched his face for any sign of a lie, but found nothing as he urged her to calm down.

"Where's Carol? Did you find Beth?" she quizzed.

"Shhh. Ain't you happy to see me?" he said, putting a finger to her plush lips. Michonne rolled her eyes and tugged on his neck with her hand, bringing her hungry lips to his.

Hot, his touch burned her chilly skin as he groaned in her mouth and tangled her tongue with his. Daryl's hands locked around her waist, caressing her hips and pinching her ample rear. They stayed like that forever, her greedily seizing his mouth and him holding her tight like he'd never see her again.

"That answer your question?" she purred, eyes alight. He grunted and kissed her cheek.

"Yeah." She looked up at him and stopped short, startled by what she saw. There was exhaustion in the bags beneath his eyes and triumph in the smirk on his face, but that wasn't it. Michonne would've never believed it, but Daryl Dixon had something like love in his eyes.

"Come on out," he said, gesturing to the bushes. She tried to move from his arms, but he held her fast at his side, kissing her head. They weren't an item to the rest of the group, and dumb as it was, she was nervous about the potential reactions.

"Uh-uh," he whispered in her ear. "I ain't seen you in way too long for you to go runnin' off."

"Fine," muttered Michonne, elbowing him playfully. "But don't think this does anything. You've got a lot of making up to do, Dixon."

"Lookin' forward to it, Samurai," he husked, using his name for her.

The trees rustled again and from the shadows came Carol, Beth and, some gangly kid who was leaning on Beth for support. Michonne squeezed Carol's shoulder and grinned at Beth, happy that all of her family was home again.

"Don't worry, I kept him safe for you," said Carol, hugging Michonne tight. "Even though he nearly got himself killed."

"Thanks," smiled Michonne, grateful Carol had been there to watch over him.

"Good to see you again, Mich," chimed Beth, an arm around the kid's back. "Could've used some of your sword work back in Atlanta."

"You too, Beth. It was quiet without your singing. New boyfriend?" she replied, nodding at the guy draped over her.

"Not quite, I'm Noah." said the kid, a smirk on his bruised face. Introductions exchanged, they crossed the short distance from the woods to the church. Michonne couldn't keep the smile off her face. With Daryl's hand around her waist and her friends at her side, her mind quieted. For the first time in days, she finally felt content and safer and whole.

Alive.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed. I just love them together, they're so cute.

Til next time,

~L.L.