Disclaimer & Author's Note: I obviously have no legal holdings pertaining to The Walking Dead, AMC, or any other organization even somewhat associated. I won't make a profit off of this, is what I'm saying. I'll remain broke. This story is a little different than what I've seen on this website before, but I decided to go ahead with it. I've never done this before, so I'd be glad for any feedback offered. I feel like I need to point out the obvious and say that I didn't start from the beginning, but the middle, and it's up to you to piece together the details based upon the prose and the dialogue.

She would have thought it would be quiet. Daryl and Merle were busy staking down the tents and she, shaking hands holding a bottle of Dasani, sat on a log next to their small fire. Once the second tent was safely secured, Daryl looked her way before stepping inside, carrying his and her bags. She thought to protest, but the flap had already fallen. She looked back to where Merle stood smirking.

"Looks like he made his mind up, ain't he?"

Sarah's eyes dropped. Merle hurried into his own tent when his brother reemerged. Daryl scratched the back of his neck. Couldn't be too comforting to see him all covered in blood. . .

"I, uh. . ."

Sarah's head tilted up, but not enough to look him in the eye. Daryl breathed out impatiently through his nose.

"I put all your things away. I'm gonna wash all this shit offa me. I don't want you out here alone, so head back to the main camp. See what you can't find out. Make us some friends. You know me, I'm no good, y'know, with people and all." He tried to laugh, then tried to smile when that failed to get a reaction. She was staring at him now, those wide eyes filled with an unrecognizable emotion. He turned away. "Go on, now. I'll come getcha when I'm done."

Sarah blinked quickly and stood, brushing off a thin layer of dried leaves and dirt. She scanned over the nearby group, trying to remember names. Daryl had at least been right to suggest she represent them to the others. Damage control, more like, with what Merle had said to that poor blonde lady. . .

She was naturally drawn to the only smiling face in the camp, which stood atop an aging RV. An elderly looking man with a rifle across his lap - Dale maybe? – motioned for her to join him when he noticed her approach.

"It's all right if I come up?" she asked, hands on the ladder.

"Sure! I could use some company, Mrs. Dixon." He winked at her. Sarah tensed, but pulled hand over hand to join him.

"We aren't actually married, just engaged." Sort of. Sarah waited to be invited to take a seat on the little lawn chair beside the older man.

"Ah, well, I guess you two better start thinking about making it official. Won't be much of a wedding or a honeymoon, but. . .one day we'll be looking back on it fondly." Dale smiled at her. She almost looked like a young Irma. He fleetingly remembered their ceremony, so many years ago in Ohio. He jumped suddenly. "You don't have to wait, please sit, my dear."

"It's. . .certainly something to consider. I don't know, with all that's going on. I mean. . .you've met him, he's under a lot of pressure right now. I don't want to push him." Sarah pulled the fakest smile of her life, and Dale grew concerned.

"Is everything all right?"

"Oh! Yes, everything is fine!" Sarah nodded quickly, eyes wide. "Believe me, if there's anyone on Earth that could handle the Dixons, it's me. Trust me."

"Yeah, but there's a difference between handling them and. . ."

"Oh please, have you seen the way he frets over me? Don't ever let him know that you've noticed. He won't ever admit it, but he does." Sarah smiled genuinely now, even though she'd played it up a little more than she'd meant to. Daryl'd be pissed. "Like I said, just a lot of pressure. He's worried."

Dale nodded. "I understand. Well, as long as you feel safe and comfortable, that's what matters."

"Hey!" Daryl shouted, rapping his hand against the side of the RV several times. "Hey, I need you. Come down."

Sarah rolled her eyes, on the defensive. "I'm talking. I'll be done in a minute. Are you hungry or something?"

Her domestic side took the edge out of his temper, usually. Why would he ask her to improve their reputation and come over acting a fool? An apology crossed his face and he held up his other hand, which dripped blood. She gasped and stood.

"Daryl—"

"Calm yourself, woman. It ain't no bite, I nearly fell down the quarry. Grabbed a sharp rock on the way up. Think ya can take a look, maybe stitch it up?" Daryl squinted up at her. He looked at Dale as an afterthought and grunted. "Nurse."

The old man's eyes brightened and widened. "I had no idea! Have you told Shane? Why don't you go and patch your husband up, Nurse Dixon? I'll catch up with you later."

"Husband?" Daryl asked as they walked back to the tent posted by his truck. His voice held just a spit of hope, and it made her stomach hurt.

"I didn't tell him that you were my husband, he guessed. Or I dunno, maybe you went around telling everyone that," Sarah snapped, dropping down to her log. Daryl had already brought out all of her supplies and smeared his blood across the handle of her bag. She scoffed. "Here, let me see."

He wasn't looking at her. Years had taught him not to yell back, even though it was in his gut to do so and was on the tip of his tongue. She'd yelled at him first, shouldn't that give him every right to? 'Whatever,' he thought angrily. Eventually, she had to come around. She had to. All of the other people nearby were so fucking grating and his brother was getting on his very last nerve, strutting off to the trees every five fucking minutes for a hit, not to mention flesh-eating freaks lined up all over the place to take a goddamn chunk outta him, couldn't she fucking cool her jets enough to be somewhat supportive to the man who'd done all he could for her these years?

Sarah gently took his hand in hers and began to clean the wound with iodine. She hissed with sympathy, knowing it had to burn, but he made no sound.

"You practically shredded it," she murmured, bringing the backs of his knuckles to her lips on instinct. She'd 'mothered' this man for years, and now she wasn't sure whether or not to regret her actions. He jerked away.

"Make up your goddamn mind. Ya want me or not?" he asked. "Don't play with me. I done everything I can to keep ya safe and happy."

"I'm sorry."

"What does that even fucking mean? What are you even saying that to? Goddamn!" Daryl grabbed at his hair with his bloody hands.

"Please hold still and let me see your hands."

"Don't you get it? Ain't none of that shit even matters anymore."

"It matters to me! Don't tell me what should and shouldn't matter to me!"

"I just don't fuckin' get it! What matters more, that we had our fights or that dead people are walkin' around tryin'a fuckin' eat us? You need me 'n I need you. I want you. I spent four fuckin' years on you—"

"I'm a fucking person, not an long-term investment!"

"I know! That's what you always say, but you ain't listenin' to me. You're still wearin' the goddamn ring under your shirt, Sarah, I know ya are, can we please just put this bullshit all aside a while so we can fuckin' survive together?"

Sarah felt herself crumbling. God, it had to be stress. Or not. Maybe everything. Poor man. But he's a fucking dick, she reminded herself. But he worked so hard, tried so hard, and it wasn't like she'd always been the perfect girlfriend. . .

"Daryl. . ."

Sensing he'd won, at least momentarily, her long-term companion put his good hand on her cheek. "Hey. . .we bes' calm down and get quiet. I know you gotta be scared, but it's okay. I ain't ever lettin' a goddamn thing happen to you. Shit, you may as well be my wife. You ain't ever gonna be rid of my ass."

"I'm not, Daryl. I can't ever be that now." Sarah dabbed antimicrobial cream in his tender wound.

"Only because you refuse to be," he snapped.

"Good Lord, I'm sick of hearing this shit," Merle cried, erupting from his tent. He pointed at Sarah. "Quit acting like a fuckin' kid. We ain't got time for this shit anymore. Ya got a man that don't beat on ya or nothin' and he put his ass on the line five times just this morning to save your ass. Keep ya safe. Got one hell of a bro-in-law, too." He grinned. "Speakin' of, let's go check those fuckin' snares, baby bro. We'll let yer old lady chill out a while. Far as I'm concerned, it's settled. Shut the fuck up about it."

Sarah cast her glare at Merle, but Daryl waved him away before any more anger could be spread. He needed to be bandaged anyway.

"Listen, you ain't gotta be my wife. I need – we need you. Merle ain't making no friends and I cain't fuckin' talk. You know that. Now, I know nothin' won't ever be the same, but my brother has a point. . .I mean, you remember those girls we saw at the FEMA camp?" Daryl squeezed her hands in one of his, his rage picking up. He spoke through clenched teeth. "Never, y'hear? Hate me all you want, hate me 'til the day I die, but I won't ever let that be you."

"Come on, I don't hate you," Sarah whispered after a moment. She wound fresh cotton bandages around his hand. No stitches were needed this time, thank God. How many times had she bandaged and shined this man up?

"Thank you."

There was a long, pregnant pause, and Sarah sort of felt already that she played a loser's game. Daryl Dixon didn't want much for his life, but he knew how to get those few things he did, and a part of her felt fucking retarded for holding off as long as she had. Sarah reached over tentatively, nearly drawing her hand away several times, and placed it on her knee. She let out a deep, rattling breath. "I miss it so much."

Daryl bent his neck to kiss her immediately. If she missed it, why was she keeping them both away from it? The question disappeared and he groaned softly at the feel of her little arms tight around him once again. Too long, it'd been far too long since this had happened the proper way.

Dale dropped his binoculars then. Nice to see they'd gotten over that little spat, and there was no way Sarah would be kissing him like that if there was anything too awful going on between them. He shook his head at Shane, who stood so eager to interrogate the young woman. Impatient, the young sheriff climbed up to join him and took the binoculars from his hands.

"Hell is goin' on here? I thought for damn sure that woman was some kind of slave or hostage. I can see that older one shooting up a hundred yards away, crissakes. Hell's a nurse doin' with some white trash, inbred hick and his skinhead brother? Somethin' don't add up. . ."

"Well, I watched her get supplies from an EMT bag with apparent knowledge, I mean. . .not sure why she'd lie about being a nurse when it's so easy to determine if she is or not." Dale felt uncomfortable with Shane, spying on such an intimate scene.

"See, that's what I'm gonna find out. Soon as she comes outta that tent, you let me know. Looks like she's about to take a ride on his big green tractor."

Shane whipped the lanyard over his head. "Appreciate it, man. I mean. . .I'm just tryin' to keep us all safe. Ain't necessarily her I'm worried about."

Dale nodded. "I am a bit. . .uneasy. She looked unhappy when I called her Mrs. Dixon."

"I'll get to the bottom of it, don't you worry. Won't let some proper kind of lady be some kind of pawn or. . .weird. . . slave to a buncha low lifes. Holler, arright?"

Sarah pulled her blanket over herself as Daryl dressed. She found her eyes jumping from place to place in that tent. Any place but Daryl. Once finished buttoning his shirt, he looked down at her awkwardly.

He swallowed and cleared his throat. "You look, uh . . ."

The blanket tightened around her body. His fingers flexed on his crossbow. Sarah couldn't stop herself from smiling. He cleared his throat.

"You know I won't go until you do it."

She sighed now. "Well, come down here."

Daryl stooped down to collect his kiss, something he'd never been so petulant about or really even cared about unless he needed reassurance that she wasn't shit-spittin' pissed. He was just a man, he quickly reasoned with himself, even if he did feel a little stupid, even though he knew a Dixon didn't do such things. He pushed his luck again, deepening her chaste little touch until he heard her groaning again. He could've swelled with pride, knowing all he had to do was kiss his woman to make her weak and wanting him again.

And it was true, at least for now, with all the turbulence and uncertainty in their lives. Sarah's regret faded so quickly when they were together like this again. Even if it were over, had been for a while, she could not imagine a greater comfort than the obvious affection of this one man, and she still had the bitter, defiant notion that she'd worked too hard to earn that affection to just walk away from it.

"One more," he grunted, and she nodded, pushing the blanket down. His shirt came off again. It'd been a long time since he'd been concerned with her seeing the scars on his body.

"I'm so scared, baby," Sarah whispered, her voice quavering. He held his face against her neck, hating those words. Why didn't he make her feel better? What wasn't he fucking doing for this woman?

"Don't be, I gotcha." Daryl squeezed a hip.

"I'm scared of you."

Daryl closed his eyes and took a moment to speak again. "Guess I better show you how foolish that is, 'en."

"I'm scared of all of this shit. I'm terrified. I mean it wasn't long ago I was unpacking the last of my boxes at my apartment—"

"Sssh," Daryl whispered, fingertips at her lips now. It made his chest twist and turn to hear her say things like that. "You never been more safe. No matter what, I'm your man."

Sarah hugged him tight against herself. She hadn't meant it to hurt.

"I'm just afraid to be around you. You break me down. I can't stand it anymore."

Daryl eased up until he was barely touching her now. Sarah desperately tried to pull him back.

"All I want is this shit to go away," he panted, hand flying to his messy hair. "What'll it take? What do I gotta do? I'm sorry. I been crawlin' on my hands and knees sorry for fuckin' weeks. What the fuck is it you want from me?"

"Just touch me, Daryl. Please."

"I thought you was afraid?" His voice was raw and suspicious.

Sarah shook her head. "Not that you'll hurt me. You'd never. I believe that."

"Glad to hear you still have some kind of faith in me."

"I have all the faith in the world in you."

His hands went back to slowly stroking her sides and Sarah shivered. He supposed he should feel somewhat relieved, and he did. If she said she wasn't afraid that he'd hurt her physically and she still had faith in him, if she still so obviously wanted him the way she used to, then that was a start. If he could still make her feel safe and comforted, that was good enough for now.

"Don't you remember," he breathed huskily in her ear, "all them times I'd come from the deer camp after a week or so? I sure do. My princess waitin' on me, books and papers spread all over the kitchen table, and you'd have on some old sweater with your hair put up all messy. . .god, it was fuckin' hot. And you'd never hear of it."

Sarah already felt faint and feverish. It was almost too hard to breathe with so much activity in her chest. "Daryl. . ."

"I remember that part, too," he continued, hand sliding down between her legs. Her thighs trembled, but she only leaned her head back and sighed quietly. His own bent to kiss her nipple. "I remember you lookin' at me like some kinda. . ." he chuckled almost nervously. He couldn't stand to praise himself, or even mention that he had once been praised. "And all I was was filthy, covered in dirt and rifle grease, but you couldn't keep your hands off me, could ya?"

Sarah shook her head, breath rattling. "No. . .and I looked at you like you were a fucking god, because you are."

Daryl couldn't decide if this was a good or bad feeling in his gut. He decided to leave it alone. Swallowed it down when it tried to rise.

"Sometimes I wonder what the fuck you're doin' with me," he blurted. He took in a quick, deep breath. "But I guess I got enough. You ain't too dumb to figure out whatcha want."

"I want you, I want you," Sarah breathed desperately, her hips moving with his hand. He smirked, even if he knew those words were spoken far too hastily. She wouldn't mean it later, but it was still a start.

"Patience, woman. Ain't I taught you nothin' all these years? If I wanted to be fuckin' ya, I would be." Daryl squeezed her ass with his other hand.

"Why don't you want me?" she whined softly, eyebrows slanted with worry. He snickered, fingers moving a little more quickly. She trembled and panted. "Daryl!"

"Be a good girl, now."

"I'm tryin' to be, baby, but I—"

"I don't take excuses, Sarah Claire."

"What do you want me to do?"

Stop this foolishness, put the damn ring back on your finger, let me fuck your brains out. . .well, at least he had that last option.

"Hush up and let me do what's best for ya."

She groaned again when his head dipped down. "What's best for me?"

"Sssh." Daryl had long, long been denied this, since even before their initial breakup. He guessed he could've seen it coming, but didn't it mean something that he was here right now? He didn't even care if he could taste himself on her, although he knew Merle would probably beat the living shit out of him for this on the off chance he'd ever find out.

Sarah held her hand firmly over her mouth, trying desperately to muffle all the noise. Bastard, she thought. He was still trying to get her just as loud as he used to, challenging her. He knew it was hard for her to be quiet, and yet here he was, acting like they still lived in their own little House on the Prairie, with no neighbors for miles, no danger in the sound of her cries in the night or evening or morning or afternoon. . .

A loud gasp finally sounded through the camp as her silky thighs clamped around Daryl's head. He chuckled softly against her, tongue not letting up for another minute, and again it was just like always. Just when Sarah was thinking she could never find her way back from that airy place he'd sent her, there he was. There was that strong body on top of hers, lips against her ear, voice and motions guiding her back.

Daryl looked for some kind of an excuse to stick around a little longer afterward, but Sarah had gotten that far away look again and he knew Merle was stalking off close to the tree line, wondering where the hell he was.

"I don't want you alone," he repeated his earlier statement, reaching for his jeans. An ornery little groan hit his ears like a ton of bricks and a hand grasped his arm. He hadn't been expecting that. "What is it?"

"I don't want you goin' anywhere," Sarah said matter-of-factly, pulling his rough body back. Or attempting to, at least. "Daryl, come here!"

"Wantin' me all a sudden?" he asked, leaning toward her.

"I think I've been wantin' you for the past hour or so." Sarah stretched her arms, satisfied with his closeness. "Just stay another minute."

It struck Daryl suddenly that when he did leave, he would be coming back to no such Sarah. Ordinarily. . .well, he knew she'd be acting much differently. Even if she did want him around now, there was a certain reservation surrounding her attitude and features. He sat up abruptly to dress and sling his bow across his back, stomach ice cold. Why prolong it if he was just gonna suffer in the end, anyway, he bitterly reasoned.

"Daryl!" Sarah cried, but was met with only a sneering scoff.

"Leave it be, woman. I gotta help Merle." His voice and words hung like shards of glass in the air around her, cutting. She sat up angrily.

"Oh Jesus fucking Christ, why do you always have to be such a dick?" said woman fumed, grasping her own pants from the ground. "God knows I tried."

"Tried, hell! You know, I ain't ever heard of a woman usin' a man for his body the way you carry on. I'd be fuckin' ashamed to admit how many times I fuckin' caved in when your fuckin' ass would call at two in the morning, but I ain't the one that oughtta be ashamed." Daryl gestured toward her wildly. Sarah almost tripped in her fury.

"Excuse me?" she hissed, pulling her jeans up her hips.

"Yeah, can't nobody call you a fuckin' cocktease. There's no tellin' what all you. . ." Daryl trailed off, fingernail between his teeth, his eyes focused on some point beyond the tent walls.

"Are you fucking saying what I think you're saying? Are you really going to stand there and act like I'm some kind of whore? What, because I fucked somebody else after you broke up with me?"

The change in the atmosphere was immediately, vastly different. She had never come out and said that she had before, although Daryl always knew and accused, and the verbal confirmation had Daryl instantly back on the offensive. His hands curled into fists momentarily, a snarl flashing across his features, and he gave a loud growl. He walked closer to the woman he'd spent so many years of his life with, pacing back, thinking better, marching right back to be face-to-face with her, finger in hers. "You. . .You fucking—"

"Fucking what, Daryl?" Sarah challenged, moving one step closer to the irate man. It was almost funny to see just how pissed he really was, but it also upset her terribly to have caused this. She knew that had to have hurt, how she'd flung that in his face. . .hey, she wasn't the one that should be feeling bad!

Daryl paced around the tent now, completely unsure of what to do with himself. His chest had a raging fire and his arms felt like they were made of lead. Almost hyperventilating, he spun on her. "Who was he? How many? Who were they?"

"Probably dead!" Sarah shouted back at him with a cracking voice. "You don't have a right to be mad at me!"

"WHO?" Daryl's voice rose the highest she'd ever heard it, and he just kept getting closer. Sarah took a few steps backward. "No, you don't get to walk away from me again. Who the fuck was it? You tell me Sarah Claire, I swear to God—"

"Scott Rankin from the hospital! Jesus!"

Daryl scoffed, eyes burning. He turned away. "Figures it'd be one of those people."

"What do you mean, those people? Have you completely forgotten that you broke up with me before this ever even happened?" Sarah asked, face inches from his yet again.

"I fuckin' apologized and you said no, no fuckin' thanks, Daryl, I don't think it'd be a good idea for us to do this right now. I knew you were gonna break it off sooner or later, probably so you could fuck ol' Scott. Isn't that the one you always used to talk about anyway?" Daryl scoffed again, throwing down the bandana he'd been wringing in his hands. "I shoulda known you'd do this to me."

"No!" Sarah cried, all the hurt and stress culminating to cause a break in her shiny veneer. "You don't get to fucking say that! I never would have dreamed of being with another man before, but you told me it was better to just cut our losses and I felt sad. Do you get that? What it's like to feel sadness?"

Oh, how she regretted those words so completely as soon as they left her mouth.

"I didn't mean that," she mumbled awkwardly, unable to raise her head to look at him again.

"Stupid, self-absorbed bitch," he seethed. She didn't know, had no fucking idea what she was talking about.

"I just meant that you never—"

Daryl didn't wait around to hear the end of that sentence, whipping through the entrance of the tent just as fast as anything.