Four. The number of days it had been since she had seen his face, pressed up against the window of the car they had been travelling in, desperately trying to reach out to her. Desperately trying to stop them from being ripped apart.
Three. The number of people who had told her in no uncertain terms that he would find them. That he would find his way back to them, to her, come hell or high water.
Three. The number of people who had told her in no uncertain terms that she was silly to hope. She was remiss to dream, to even entertain the notion that he would have survived the herd that had swarmed the store they were searching.
Three. The number of people she knew she could count on to have her back if by some strange twist of fate he didn't make it home. And the number of people whose faces she wanted to pound and had told in no uncertain terms to go to hell. That they might think they knew him. That they might call themselves his family and claim they knew him too but they didn't.
They didn't know his strength. Or his heart.
Rick, Sasha and Abraham didn't know anything. Nothing about her. Nothing about him.
Two. The number of times she had told him to leave, to leave her alone, to save himself and let her die. Once, in the tunnel on the road to Terminus. The second time, no more than four days ago when he had gotten himself caught up saving someone else; saving her, when she knew she didn't even deserve his selflessness.
They had been fighting, before. He had wanted her to stay back at the homestead. She was injured. He didn't want to chance it. She was stubborn. She didn't want to stay behind and be without him in case, just in case, the very worst thing, happened. And it did.
One. The amount of times a minute, once every sixty seconds she fell in love with him a little more, a little differently, all over again.
One. The one thing she had worth fighting for.
One. The one who witnessed her failings almost daily and loved her anyway.
One.
Him.
Glenn.
"He's going to be okay."
Michonne, strength and stoicism personified, slipped into focus as Tara stared out blankly into the night.
"It's been four days," Tara said dully. "He would be back by now."
"Not necessarily. He's smart. He thrives in this world. Do you not remember the tales of him rescuing Rick in Atlanta?" Michonne intoned. "He survived the Governor. The flu. The fall of the prison," she pauses, watching as a fleeting smile lights up the younger woman's face. The reason he survived the fall of the prison? The same reason she did. They had each other. The moment passes and her eyes lose their sparkle once more as Michonne leans against a tree. "He's resourceful. He's just been... Delayed. He'll make his way back. We won't leave until he does."
She nodded, hearing the words and letting the unspoken promise seep into her skin. They wouldn't leave him behind. They wouldn't leave her behind, either. "Thank you," she almost whispers. "For waiting. For understanding. For not ... Giving up on him."
Michonne's reply is short and to the point. "He's family. And neither of you ever gave up on me."
The escape plan from the prison hadn't been a good one but it had been all they had had. The directive was to get to a safe house through the woods. Grab what you could, if you could, get out and go. When the Governor had come, when Brian had marched upon the prisoners with Tara at his side, all semblance of organisation had been lost and chaos had run rampant. Lives were lost. Children were lost, some never to be seen again. The bus had left with the people of Woodbury on it. Beth had vanished with Daryl. Tyreese had focussed on saving the children that had saved him. Sasha, Bob, Maggie, all got out. Rick and Carl too. Michonne had been on her own, as was her preference, until she had found Tyreese in the thick of the woods. Slowly, the group's intersected. The majority made it to Terminus. Some, Beth and Maggie, included, were lost along the way. But they found others. Glenn found Tara. Tara found Abraham and with him came Eugene and Rosita. They converged upon the compound, not realising until all too late it had been a con. A trap. A promise of safety born of false hope, ending in tragedy. Carol had been the one to set them free. Wielding Daryl's crossbow and blowing the settlement sky high, she had gotten them out and not a moment too soon. She and Daryl had been reunited. The gang had been back together, albeit briefly. The carnage in the months that followed was inconceivable. The children? Gone. Tyreese and Bob? Eugene? Gone. Now only a handful of them remained. Rick, Sasha, Abraham, Carl, Judith, Rosita. Daryl, Carol, Michonne, Tara.
And possibly Glenn.
"You weren't swept away by walkers," Tara said wearily. "You weren't ripped out of my hands as I was forced into the car by Rick and we drove away, leaving Glenn on his own to fend for himself."
"No," Michonne folded her arms across her chest. "I wasn't. I was just gone."
The incident she is referring too happened not five months earlier. She had been lucky. She had made it back alive. Others weren't so lucky. If she was being completely honest with herself, she only believed she had made it because Glenn and Carol had come looking. It was because of them, her family within their wider family, that she would wait here with Tara until Glenn returned. Or … until they were forced to go looking for him.
Michonne may have lost Andrea. Glenn may have lost Maggie. Carol may have lost Sophia and Daryl may have lost Merle. But she would be damned if they would lose anyone else.
Not on her watch.
"Ya need ta sleep."
Tara shook her head. "Not until he comes back," she said staunchly. "Then… Then I'll sleep."
Daryl slumped down beside her, back against the rough bark of the tree she had been partially hiding herself behind. He shoved a piece of what looked like jerky into her hand and took a healthy bite of his own piece, waiting for her to do the same. It was only when he knocked his knee against hers that she even registered he had given her something. Staring at her aggressively he cleared his throat repeatedly until she warily raised it to her mouth and took a tentative bite. Swallowing down the cured meat she coughed, a chunk getting caught in her throat. Pounding her on the back, he handed up a water bottle and tipped it up to her mouth, forcing her to drink. She sucked down the water greedily, parched from having refused to move from her spot all day. "Ya weren't… Ya weren't with us when we lost Merle. Merle…" Daryl snorted. "Believe it or not? Merle was a lot like Glenn."
She turned to him with a blank expression on her face. "Glenn always said Merle was an asshole."
"Reckon he was."
"Glenn's not an asshole."
"Naw," Daryl agreed, taking the water bottle from her again and setting it on the ground. "He ain't."
Facing forward once more, Tara worrying the same spot on her bottom lip she had been gnawing at for days. The wind howled through the small clearing they were in at the back of the property they were holed up in. The others were curled up in the house, Tara insisting on taking everyone's share in the rotation to keep her mind off things. Michonne, Carol and Daryl were operating a rotation of their own, making sure the young woman ate, drank something and still had her wits about her. They would deal with anything else as they came to it.
"Thinkin' bout it? Thing Merle and Glenn had most in common? People. Family. Loyalty."
Tara's lips quirked up slightly at the mention of Glenn's fairer qualities. Realising he had her attention, Daryl pushed on.
"Ya weren't with us when we was at the prison. Rick... Rick had it in his mind to give Michonne to the Governor. Couldn't take her himself," he spat with obvious disgust. "Merle went instead. Thought he was doing us a favour. Wanted to be a hero. Guess he thought if he coulda taken down that one eyed sumbitch, the prison woulda been safe. He turned 'Chonne loose. Walked right in ta his trap. Bought us a little bit a time but... He died for us." Daryl shook his head with mild disgust. "I never... I never got ta say goodbye. Never got ta say thanks. Never... Never got ta thank him for being such an asshole and sacrificing himself. Going out in a blaze of glory? That was Merle. He lived large. He thought he could kill the Governor. Couldn't. But he did it for me, too. Carol told me..."
"What?" Tara's voice sounded distant. "What did Carol tell you?"
A wry smile appeared on his face. "She told me she told Merle not ta underestimate her. And if he hurt me? If he tried to step between me and the rest of ya? She'd slit his throat in his sleep. I think... He was trying ta prove he was still worthy of his little bro, y'know? He gave all he had. Weren't enough in his eyes. His death let me be someone else. First time in my whole life? Let me be me."
A twig snapped to the right and they both tensed, Daryl moving to his feet and putting Tara behind him. They stayed stock still for what seemed like forever before he finally lowered his knife and sat down again, now at her left.
"Fight. That's what Glenn and Merle have in common. They're fighters. They're loyal ta us. Merle did what he could for me. Glenn is going to do whatever he can to get back ta ya. S'who he is. Won't stop still he gets back here. Back to ya."
"And if he doesn't come back?" Her voice is soft, eyes misting over. "He's it, Daryl. He's my best friend, my..." She stops short of the word he knows she wants to use, knowing that not everyone in the group is as comfortable with her fluid sexuality as she is. "He's my everything. If he doesn't come back... That's it. I have no one."
"What am I?" Daryl asked dryly. "Chopped liver?" Tara remained quiet. "You don't want ta laugh at my jokes? Fine. Ya got us. Me. Carol. 'Chonne. Family. Like before Glenn left. Nothing's changed. Ya one of us girl," he said, wrapping his arm loosely around her shoulder. "We're not gonna leave ya. Ever. Don't listen to the rest. They wanna leave before you're ready ta go? We let 'em go. We're staying. The four of us."
Leaning into his side as much as she dared, she gave him a weak smile. "He's coming back," she said bravely. "Right? He's coming back."
Daryl squeezed her shoulder. "Damn right."
He let her go and she sat up a little straighter, a little more alert than she should have been on two hours sleep over five days. "I'll just stay here," she said. "Just a little longer. Just... In case."
"Right then." He burrowed himself back against the tree, pulling out a stack of old arrows and grasping his knife. "I'll stay with ya."
"Where are you going?"
Michonne whirled around, startled by Carl, his voice heavy with sleep. "Nowhere," she smiled softly. "No where you need to worry about. Back to sleep, Carl. I'll be here when you wake up."
The boy frowned sleepily. "'Kay."
"Go on," she urged gently. "Back to bed. You need your rest."
Ferrying him back over to his homemade pallet of old blankets and a worn pillow she forced him back down into a horizontal position. He curled up on his side, eyes heavy as slipped back to sleep. "'Chonne?"
She stopped in her tracks, leaning over and sweeping his fringe back off of his face. She and Rick might not see eye to eye anymore but that didn't mean she didn't still have a great deal of affection for his children. "Yes, honey?"
"You're going to get Glenn."
"I am," she swallowed heavily. "Or I'm going to try."
"Aunty Tara misses him."
"She does, honey. She misses him a whole lot." Bending down she kissed his forehead. "Sleep, Carl."
"You saved Aunt Andrea too," he slurred. "And my Dad. You're good. Good at saving people."
She said nothing, climbing to her feet and noting that both Carol and Daryl were still missing, most likely outside with Tara. Tears welled in her eyes at the mention of Andrea and she sighed, sheathing her katana and slipping out into the night.
"Ya going?"
"That herd was headed west," she said tersely. "We took out a good number of them. Gave him a fighting chance. Plenty of places round there he could've hid. Rested up."
Daryl nodded slowly. "Could be making his way back to us now. Just been held up."
The pair shared a desperate look. Neither of them wanted to lose someone else. Neither of them wanted Tara to lose someone else. She had slipped under their defences, both of them. No one expected to adore the young woman from outside the prison as much as they had. No one had expected her and Glenn to end up the way they had.
Then again, no one expected the end of the world, either.
"We holed up here one time," Carol said, emotionless. Holding out a well worn map she pointed to an area circled in red. "We even left supplies there, just in case. If he made it there, he's still alive. If he didn't... This is just a recovery mission."
Tara had finally fallen asleep at the base of the tree, utterly exhausted and having cried herself out. Carol had covered her in one of their more adequate blankets and stood over her protectively as the other three worked out a plan to bring Glenn home.
"I should go with you. I know where you're going, I can help, I-"
"Tara needs you ta stay here," Daryl said gruffly, taking Carol by the shoulders and shaking her slightly, trying to calm her and her sudden flustered behaviour. "Ya know her best. And ya good at this shit. She listens ta ya. 'Chonne and I got this."
"But-" chewing through her lower lip Carol sighed. "I'm of more use to you out there."
"And you're of more use to her here," Michonne said lowly, resting a hand on Carol's forearm. "If you're here? You can reason with the others if need be. Abraham trusts you. The kids too." Exchanging an uneasy glance with Daryl she sighed. "If we don't make it back before nightfall? We're going to need you to track us too. You can track. I can't."
"If we're not back by sundown, ya come looking," Daryl said seriously. "Move faster at night, just the two of ya. We'll leave markers. Be easy to find."
Tara cried out in her sleep, throwing her arms up in front of her face and whimpering. Carol stepped away from Daryl and dug through her pack. "Take this. If you find him and it's not too late... Or if it is and he's still lucid... At least they can say goodbye, right? At least there's that."
"You want us to tell her if he's been bit?" Michonne shook her head. "I don't think that's such a good idea."
"At least she'll know," Carol cut in. "It's better too... It's better to know," she said firmly, sliding the walkie talkie into Daryl's bag. "He never... To Maggie... So..."
"Got it." Comprehension dawned on Michonne's face at Daryl's words and she winced before nodding reluctantly. "Stay alert," he said quietly. "Don't let ya guard down. Do whatever ya gotta do ta keep ya selves safe."
"We will," Carol murmured, first hugging Michonne and then surrendering herself to Daryl. He pulled her close, inhaling deeply as she wrapped herself around him. "Come back to us. All three of you."
"Do our best," he said solemnly, kissing her brow. "Stay safe."
Her face dropped, recalling simpler days gone by at the prison. "Nine lives, remember?"
He kissed her again, this time hard and fast on the lips and they were off, disappearing into the thick cover the trees provided on the other side of the clearing.
"Good luck," she whispered after them. "We'll be waiting."
Tara snapped awake at the sound of someone pacing back and forward in front of her, soft footfalls crunching leaves underfoot. Scrambling to her feet she looked around wildly. "Glenn? Glenn? Is that you?"
"It's me, Tara," a low voice said soothingly. "It's just Carol. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."
"Glenn?" The brunette asked hopefully. "Is he...? Did they...?"
"Not yet, honey." Tara's face immediately crumpled and Carol moved to her side. "Hey. It's okay. Daryl and Michonne are out there looking. If anyone can find him? It's them. It's his family."
"I should be out there," Tara whispered. Struggling to her feet she clutched at Carol's hand to gain her balance. "I should be looking for him. I'm his family."
"And we're yours," Carol said, doing her best to at least let her friend to lean against the tree trunk for some stability. "You're hurt, Tara. Your ankle is nowhere near where it needs to be," she scolded. "You shouldn't have gone out there in the first place."
Immediately taking the offensive, Tara bristled. "You've been out there. With Daryl. When you were hurt. This was no different."
"It is," Carol sighed, easing then both down into a seated position. "When Daryl and I are out there? It's always the same. Sooner or later we run. The difference between us and you and Glenn is that we're always focussed on the good of the group. Glenn? He's always ultimately focussed on you. It's not necessarily a bad thing," she murmured, pushing Tara's hair back off of her face and behind her ear. "He always puts you before himself. Sometimes? Sometimes it gets him into trouble."
"He's not always-"
"He is. After he lost... Maggie," Carol said delicately, knowing it was somewhat of an uneasy subject. "He became determined to never get close to anyone again. Then there was you. Never becoming close to someone became never letting Tara out of his sight or letting her get hurt. He feels responsible for you because he loves you. He knows you can hold your own but if he can do something to ensure your safety? Anything? He'll do it."
"And it got him killed," Tara said stubbornly. "He's not... He's not coming back, Care! Because of me!"
Her body beginning to shake with tearless sobs Tara fell into Carol's arms. Cradling the younger woman's head in one hand, she smoothed back her hand with the other, lowering Tara into her lap. "When I was... Lost," Carol said softly. "In the tombs? I gave up. I had no reason to think I would make it back out alive. I had no real reason to want too. The person that meant the most to me in this world? My baby girl? She was gone. She... She got left behind. And she never made it back. I didn't..." Carol drew a long shaky breath. "I felt like I had no reason to go on. I saw... Theodore... T-Dog, you would know him as, get ripped apart right before my eyes. He died so that I might live. And in death? Alone and trapped in that tiny little cell? Breathing in my own recycled breath as the walls started to close in? I thought that if I died? That if I got left behind or if a walker claimed me? Then my death would serve as someone else's chance to make it. If I could give them that? I would."
Tara's sobs quietened to a dull throbbing in Carol's ears as she tried to reassure her friend that there was still a chance everything was going to be alright.
"I was trapped for three days. Three days before Daryl found me. I was hardly the woman I am today then. I was getting stronger. But I wasn't strong enough. Daryl saved me. He gave me reason to want to keep going. Without him? I would be just another dead girl."
"It's been... Almost five days," Tara swallowed heavily, having heard variations of this story before from Glenn and even Carl. Never from Carol. "We left him there. He was trapped and we just... We left him."
"He was caught," Carol corrected her gently, trailing her fingers through Tara's hair as she would have her daughter once upon a time, or even for Daryl, when the nights became too stifling for you to want to do anything but scream. "He wasn't trapped. Glenn? He's not me. Not in the tombs. Not now. Not ever. He's seen loss. He knows what it feels like to lose the most important person in your whole world. He's also," Carol paused, searching her mind for the right words to say. "He also knows what it means to love again. To find another reason to go on. Just like I found Daryl ... He's found you. At the prison. After the fall of Alexandria. He'll find you again. He has every reason in the world to not stop looking."
Tara managed the barest hint of a smile at the memory of meeting Glenn for the first time. At the thought of him never giving up on finding Maggie. At the thought of him finding his way back to her. "Do you... Could he... Be looking for us?" She whispered achingly. "For me?"
Carol smiled softly, perhaps a little indulgently. "If he still has breath left in his lungs? I guarantee you, he is fighting his way back to us, back to you, as we speak."
Five days. Five days since he had seen them. Any of them.
Four days. Four days since he had thought he would see any of them again. Least of all her.
Three. Three days since he had seen anyone. At least, anyone breathing.
Two. Two... Something. He was having trouble keeping his thoughts straight. He hadn't eaten. Had no water. Two something.
One. One. One.
That's all he was. One. That's all the chances he had. One.
One chance to get back to them.
One chance to get back to her.
One chance to make things right.
He remembered the look of pure horror on her face when he double tapped the rear of the car, the signal that they were good to go, that they should move on. There were walkers to his every side. Swarms of them. Dozens upon dozens of festering dead bodies, all with one thing on their minds.
Him.
He knew that if he had tried to get into the vehicle that he risked one of them grabbing one of the occupants on the inside and dragging them out. That was something he was not prepared to leave to chance. So he had decided to take his chances on his own. In the event he didn't make it? Everyone else would. Daryl would. Carol and Michonne would. Tara would.
That was all that mattered.
He had killed a dozen close to him, easy. After that he lost count, the decomposing bodies of the dead charging at him with vigour he had never seen before, determined to rip him skin from bone until every morsel was gone.
Glenn knew the area well. They had scouted there before. He and Carol had sought refuge in a cabin just over the ridge. If he could get there, if he could make it to safety, manage to catch his breath, then he could make it back home. He knew the way. He knew it was possible. He just needed a chance. One chance.
Then it happened. A gun shot, to his left. The pounding of feet. A whiff of blood, on the breeze.
The walkers, en masse, turned to face the noise, a mess of tangled limbs and snapping teeth. Dragging their feet, they trudged toward the sound with the same impatience they had they given him moments earlier. Sweating and gasping for breath, he saw a gap in the wall of bodies and without another thought took it, charging toward the clear air and over the ridge to the safe house he and Carol had cleared weeks earlier. The windows remained boarded up, the door closed and he said a silent prayer of thanks to whoever might be listening as he threw his last reserves of energy into getting to that door, scrambling to find the key they had hidden and bursting inside. Falling to his knees he searched for the key, running his hands along the underside of a chair, searching for the raised bumps of the key. Finding it almost immediately he wedged it lose and struggled to his feet, falling against the door and into the tiny cabin before he could find his balance. The front room was clear and he willed himself into action, locking the door behind him and collapsing on to the couch.
He didn't wake for two whole days.
When he did, he couldn't remember where he was. He couldn't remember why he was alone. Parched, he drank down a bottle of water he and Carol had hidden there, ate what at one time might have been a cereal bar and a bag of stale trail mix. He brushed the crumbs off his clothes, finding in his pocket an item he hadn't even realised was there.
A yo-yo.
Tara's yo-yo.
Within minutes he was on his feet and out the door. Gun tucked in the waistband of his pants, baseball bat in hand he clambered over the ridge and over the road, dodging the hands of the dead. Hidden in the thicket of trees, he ran along the road line, sticking to the path he knew would eventually lead him back to the settlement they had occupied a little over two weeks ago. It was at least a two day hike back on foot and that was if he didn't encounter any more opposition along the way.
He would make it.
He had too.
"Anything?"
Michonne and Daryl shook their heads, Daryl shouldering his crossbow with a stiffness Tara hadn't seen before. The pair had visibly winced at the desperation in her voice and she had forced a smile, knowing they had done their best.
"It's okay," she offered with forced calm as Carol came up behind her silently, placing a hand on the small of Tara's back. "There's always... tomorrow." Nodding as if trying to convince herself of the very same fact she winced. "There's always... tomorrow."
The foursome stood in silence for a moment, bowed heads and fidgeting feet until Carol cleared her throat.
"Come on," she smiled softly. "There's dinner, inside. You all need to keep your strength up. You especially," she said to Tara. "You need to eat. Carl and Judith have been asking after you."
A flash of colour moved through the scrub. Blue then brown, moving toward them at speed. "Yeah. Okay," she said distractedly. "I'll be right there. Just… just give me a minute."
Michonne frowned, stepping forward to grasp Tara's elbow. "You missed breakfast."
Leaves rustled to her left and a hint of colour graced Tara's cheeks, a spark of light appearing in her eyes. "And I'll eat dinner," she almost snapped, something extremely out of character for her. "In a minute."
Daryl's gravelly timbre cut through the quiet, his eyes meeting Carol's with concern. "Tara-"
"Ssssssh!"
The rustling continued, branches snapping at an alarming rate underfoot as Daryl grabbed for his crossbow and Michonne raised her katana, Carol stepping in front of Tara with her knife in hand. Before the trio even realised what was happening, Tara was in front of them, heading toward the edge of the foliage. Daryl lunged forward, reaching out for the woman he had come to know as a sister. Tara slipped, tripping over her own feet, her left ankle still not ready to hold all her weight. Carol gasped, Michonne striding toward the younger woman as she fell … and he caught her.
Tumbling out of the woods, he stumbled right into her, his outstretched arms catching her around the waist and twisting their bodies so that he took the brunt of the hit, her head hitting his shoulder as he shielded her from the ground below. Time stood still as Carol's knife hit the ground with a clang, Daryl's crossbow lowering as Michonne's sword swished through the night, back into it's spot upon her back.
"He did it," Daryl muttered. "I'll be damned."
In a daze, Tara pulled back, eyes wide and shining as she realised exactly who had cushioned her fall. Reaching out a tentative hand, she gingerly pushed a lock of hair off her saviour's face, knuckles brushing his jaw. "G-G-Glenn?" She asked hesitantly, unable to believe the sight before her own eyes. "Is that… Is that you?"
Opening his mouth, Glenn tried to speak yet found he could only cough. Scampering back, Tara removed her weight from his person, kneeling beside him as he dragged his tired body into a seated position, rhythmically rubbing his back as he tried to find the words she so badly needed to hear. "Hey," he coughed out, leaning into her side. "Hey, sweetheart. Missed you."
It took all of a moment for her to throw her arms around him, hugging him fiercely. Her fingers wound their away into his hair as he chuckled weakly, resting his chin on her shoulder. His arms found a familiar home slung low on her hips, hands clasped tightly resting on her lower back. Eyes clenched shut, he bit back the bitter sting of tears as she loosened her grip, edging away just enough to be able to see his face. "Missed you too," she whispered tenderly, knowing he would hear her words even if he couldn't see her. "We all did."
Hands were on him then, picking him up out of the dirt. He found himself propped up between Carol and Daryl, soft hands and rough shouldering the bulk of his weight as Tara grabbed onto Michonne's arm, tugging her along behind. Rushing ahead the women reached the camp first, Tara hollering for help. "Abraham! Carl! I need the kit. He's back! Glenn's back!"
The room burst into action, Carl scrambling off to fetch water as Rosita followed Abraham's barked commands for food and blankets. Daryl relieved Carol of her burden, setting Glenn down into a well worn recliner, the latter freeing him of his weapons and handing them off to Michonne. Tara hovered behind them all, pacing back and forward as everyone fussed over the return of one of their own. Little Judith toddled around clapping her hands, feeling the heightened excitement in the air as Rick watched on guardedly from a distance. Daryl stepped back and brought Michonne with him, giving Abraham and Carol some space as they checked Glenn over. Throughout the whole process Glenn's eyes are fixed solely on Tara, following her progress as she made tight circles around the back of the room, wringing out her hands and fretting from afar. Abraham climbed to his feet, satisfied with the health of their prodigal son as Rosita presented him with fresh clothing. Judith hugged her Uncle Glenn around his knees and had to be prised off by Carl, everyone eventually drifting away as he assured them he was fine.
He was fine. Or he would be, when he got the chance to properly see her.
His voice was low as he called to her, beckoning her to take her rightful place at his side. "Tara?"
Thrilled at the sound of hearing her name fall from his lips she turned to face him, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Glenn?"
"Come here."
"You came back."
The words hang in the air above them as she slides in beside him, laying her head beside his. His stare is unwavering as his stomach churns, riding a wave of uncertain emotion. He can't believe it. He's here. With his family. Where he belongs. And she's with him. In his arms. Where she is meant to be. "I did."
"I didn't... I wasn't... I'm sorry," she admits with a whisper, ashamed of herself and her forthcoming confession. "I'm sorry I ever doubted you. I shouldn't have. You came back."
Her eyes are swimming with guilt as he shakes his head no. "Don't be sorry. Be..."
"Grateful," she supplied softly. "I am. Everyday we get to spend together. Everyday I wake up knowing it'll be spent at your side and end the same way it began. In your arms."
Glenn looked at her peculiarly for a moment and snorted. "Wow. That was cheesy."
Indignation spread across her face until she realised he was joking. She shoved him in the arm and he smiled at her sweetly, drawing her in for a cuddle. She rest her head on his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heart.
"I hate you," she mumbled into his chest. "Never leave me again."
"I love you too," he replied teasingly as she fisted her hands in his shirt, mindful of the other couple across the room. His voice lowered and he squeezed her close. "And I'm not leaving you. Ever."
Five. The amount of times he assured her he was fine as she curled up around him in the tiny single bed they occupied in the tiny room they had to share with Carol and Daryl.
Four. Four professions of love that spilled through chapped lips, sweet nothings whispered in a chorus of sheer relief.
Three. Three times he pulled her closer.
Two. Two times she shifted closer still.
One. One single look shared as he presented her with her yo-yo, pulling the object from behind his back as she nuzzled his neck, effectively removing any space between them.
One little movement that saw her lips find his in a gentle caress, meeting once, twice, three times, before parting with sweet sighs that he captured with his fingertips, tracing her features, cupping her cheek with such reverence it drew whimpers from deep within the pit of her stomach.
One more chance at another day, another life, together.