Chapter Two

"Nope, not happening," she said in a singsong voice, looking into Daryl's cell.

"C'mon it ain't that bad," he scoffed.

She rolled her eyes at him. "It's a jail cell."

"Well don't close it, it'll be fine."

"Daryl, I've been in captivity for weeks. Please don't ask me to get into another cage. Can't I just sleep outside?"

"It's freezin' out!"

"So I'll borrow a jacket or something. I just have to be able to see the sky…so I don't forget I'm safe, now. Please?"

Daryl sighed and massaged his temples with a single hand. "Just for tonight," he said gruffly.

"Okay!" Layla nodded eagerly, and he couldn't help but grin at how excited she seemed at the prospect.

"And y'ain't stayin' out there alone," he barked.

"Because you don't trust me."

"Because it ain't safe."

"I thought you said there were gates."

"Yeah—"

"And guards on watch for walkers, and...people."

"Yeah, but—"

"Then outside is as safe as in, and if I have the choice in the matter then I'd choose outside any day."

Daryl ran a hand through his hair in frustration, curtailing it for the time being. "We don't know if he's gonna come back, Layla."

She crossed her arms and stared hard at the ground, muscles going tight under her skin. "You said he was gone."

"He is. But as far as we know, he ain't dead. Could show up again someday. Wouldn't be wise, but he could."

Daryl watched as Layla's body relaxed, slightly, but her resolve never wavered. "I still need to sleep outside."

"Like I said, just this once. But ya still can't be out there alone."

"So who is going to be my...escort?"

"I...me, I guess. Unless ya want someone else."

"You want to do that?"

"S'fine."

She cocked an eyebrow at him. "So you're going to sleep under the stars with me, Daryl?"

"Shut up," Daryl muttered. But he couldn't help but wonder if she was really, genuinely, flirting with him. With him? Nah.

It was already dark when they ventured outside. Dinner had been tense and disorganized- so many new faces. So many people- the whole thing made Daryl nervous. Layla had stuck closely to his side the entire time, watching the group from the sidelines just like he often did. Sleeping outdoors wasn't looking like such a bad plan, after all. He grabbed two sleeping bags and pillows and led Layla out around the side of the prison. Walkers rarely made their way around to this side.

It was quiet, albeit cold, and an intensely starry night. "Perfect," Layla said to herself, settling down on one of the sleeping bags. "Thank you for this."

Daryl shrugged, "S'nothin'." But he stowed away the compliment somewhere, smirking to himself.

"So where you from?" he asked her, sitting on his own sleeping bag.

"Boston. Not born and bred or anything- I don't have one of those silly accents. But that's where I spent most of my adult life. Grew up in New York though."

"Ain't never been," Daryl admitted.

"You grew up in Georgia?" she asked.

He snorted, "It's that obvious?"

She smiled back at him, "Well the accent clued me in. And the way you handle yourself. Real live Southern boy."

"Hey, I ain't no boy," he corrected.

"Ah, yes. Man. I forgot," she responded playfully. He was so startled by the light-heartedness of her tone that he couldn't muster up an appropriate response.

Instead, Daryl laid back and let silence fall over them as they gazed up at the sky. After several minutes, he chanced a look towards Layla and found her visibly shaking, running her hands up and down her unclothed legs.

"Damnit Layla, I told ya you'd be cold," he huffed.

"I'm not," she insisted, wrapping her arms around herself. He stared at her a moment, trying to assess just how stubborn she was.

Daryl unzipped his sleeping bag and rolled inside, leaving his boots on the ground. He held it open and nodded at her, "C'mere."

"Seriously?"

"Damn right seriously. And this is a onetime offer, woman. You're already hurt, gettin' sick on top of it won't do ya no good. Ya gotta warm up. So it's this or we go inside," Daryl said sternly.

Sighing overdramatically, Layla scooted over and allowed Daryl to zip them both into the exceptionally small sleeping bag. They tried to lie next to each other, but there just wasn't enough space. So after several moments of awkwardness, Daryl took her firmly by the waist and pulled her on top of his chest.

"This okay?" he whispered, as she lay her head down on his shoulder. He was scared now, truly and completely scared. Daryl hadn't put much thought into insisting they share this small space. He'd seen her in need and he'd reacted. There was something about this girl, he wasn't truly sure what, but from the moment he'd spotted those emerald eyes he'd instinctually wanted to protect her.

But now their bodies were pressed up against each other and he could smell the fruitiness of her hair and he was just praying that his body didn't react the way he knew it would to her closeness. Because, it was undeniable- She felt good against him. And even letting himself acknowledge that small fact was a betrayal. He was supposed to be helping her, playing watchdog so she had time to heal. The girl had been fucking tortured for Christ's sake. And yet here he was hoping to God he didn't pop a hard-on just from the feel of her warm breath on his chest.

"Mmhmm," she murmured. She was melting into him. And Daryl felt pride at the sensation of her body relaxing- and doing it because he was there. He propped up their pillows behind his head, so he could watch her while they lay there.

Daryl wasn't exactly a virgin- but this? This was way out of his comfort zone. Drunk fucks and hookups didn't prepare you to be this close to someone. This was…intimate. And to some degree, he hated himself for enjoying it. Not just because of what the Governor had done to Layla, but because it would mean that he, himself, had been missing out on something his whole life. Or more truthfully- avoiding it purposefully. Hell, Merle had always told him this kind of thing was for pussies. And he'd figured it out himself: when you've got nothing you care about losing, it's harder to get hurt. So laying with Layla like this didn't come naturally to him, and he was sure she knew. I mean, his heart was thudding against his chest like the baseline of a metal song; she had to know.

"You're not too comfortable with this, are you?" she suddenly asked. And that confirmed it. She could definitely feel his heart hammering away like a coked out mockingbird.

"Just…never done it before," he muttered, barely audible. It only deepened his confusion and discomfort when Layla seemed to relax even further at his response.

She gave him a smirking, dubious look. "Done other stuff," he said defensively. He'd touched a woman, for god's sake.

"Well that I didn't doubt," she laughed. With the biceps on that man, and his severely blue eyes, there's not a chance he could have avoided getting laid this far into life. "I guess I can't be too surprised you're not a cuddler. I can move, if you want?"

"Dunno," Daryl shrugged, "It ain't awful."

Layla smiled at that, more relieved that she'd willingly admit. Here, with Daryl, was the safest she'd felt in months. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

"Ya want me to stop?"

"No…"

"Then don't ask so many questions," he grunted. If he had to admit to her all the fucked up things that had been going through his head since he'd found her this morning…well, she'd definitely make a run for it. She'd leave the prison, and never come back. And he couldn't have that. She yawned against his shirt and he bit down a smile. "When's the last time ya got a decent night's sleep?"

"Probably before dead people started walking around," she sighed, her voice now lower than a murmur. "Definitely not since the Governor took me. Never felt safe enough to close my eyes…" she trailed off.

"Well, you're safe now. Get some shut eye," Daryl instructed softly.

"You don't want me to move?" Her voice was high and hopeful, like a child's.

"Nah," he said quietly, "You're fine. Just sleep." He didn't need to ask her twice. In minutes her breathing was slow and deep, her body melded with his. And Daryl surprised himself when he managed to shut off his brain and fall into a deep slumber right along with her.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

Daryl woke up slowly. He was warm and comfortable, with sunlight streaming down on his face and the moans of the undead only a distant wail. It felt too good, and suddenly he snapped his eyes open and remembered exactly where he was. Layla. He couldn't tell if she was still asleep, but he prayed she was, because there was a certain situation he needed to take care of before she regained consciousness. Fucking morning wood. Well, if he was being honest with himself, his current predicament wasn't just a result of it being morning.

He tried his best to shift away from her, but she'd wrapped herself around him in her sleep. Their legs were intertwined and one of her hands was snaked up around his neck. His arms were trapped between her and the thick fabric of the sleeping bag, but he thought if he could inch one up and out, he might be able to free them from their cocoon. He accidently jerked his arm roughly, jostling the both of them, and Layla shifted her weight on top of him.

"It's okay," she whispered breathily, "I'm not mad, and you've got nothing to be embarrassed about." Well, there goes his whole fucking plan. She was awake. And she definitely noticed.

"Sorry," he muttered, trying to think about dead people and grandmas and genocide, anything to get his mind off of her warm body on top of him.

"Don't be," she murmured. "I'm flattered, really. After the Governor did what he did…he kept telling me no one would ever want me after he was done with me. That's why he burned me."

She wasn't looking at him, didn't want him to see how much she believed the Governor's words. He touched her cheek to draw her attention.

"That's bullshit," he assured her, and added with reddened cheeks. "And it's obvious enough he was wrong." He shifted underneath her once more, proving his point when his erection throbbed against her thigh. But to his surprise, she smiled up at him.

"I guess he was," she agreed.

He groaned lowly, "Suppose it's time we went inside."

"You're probably right," she sighed, unzipping the sleeping bag and rolling onto the grass. Daryl sat up and rested his elbows on his knees, watching her collect their things. When she was done she looked back at him in confusion. "Aren't you coming?" she asked.

"Yeah…just gimme a minute," he mumbled. Watching her bend down and stretch the toned muscles of her arms and legs hadn't help to rid him of his embarrassing situation.

She smiled at him and crouched at his side. Leaning in slowly, she pressed a lingering, chaste kiss to his right cheek. Her fingers trailed lightly across his jaw as she pulled away to look him in the eye, making him shudder. Daryl was biting his lip hard, and pinkness had spread up to his ears. "Shit, Layla, y'ain't helpin' things," he mumbled. And at that, she couldn't suppress her laughter.

"Oh man," she chuckled, "I think that's the first time I've laughed in weeks." After a moment, Daryl managed to compose himself and they joined the rest of the prison gang for breakfast.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

Layla hovered nervously just outside the doorway while Daryl talked with Rick and Hershel about what they needed to go out and find, with all these new people to take care of.

"We're going to need to clear out D," Rick was explaining, "But beyond that we need to get this organized. Supporting this many people, we'll have to have groups doing runs at least twice a week. We can set up a job Rota. Taking watch, going on runs, cooking and doing laundry- everyone will take turns."

"What kinda stuff are we gonna to need straight away?" Daryl asked.

"Medical supplies. Ammo. And all the dry goods we can find. I know you want to go out and hunt, but it'll have to wait a couple of days. For now it's just bare necessities and stocking up. I don't want you straying too far from the prison alone until we know the Governor isn't going to show up," Rick said.

"We can't know that," Hershel disagreed. "But he's a needle in a haystack. We need to focus on building up our defenses, keeping these people safe. If he comes, he comes. But we're not mind-readers."

"Alright, I'll go on a run first thing. Maybe try that strip mall we passed on the way to Woodbury," Daryl announced.

"Who are you bringing?" Rick asked him.

"I'll see if Michonne is up for it," Daryl said pensively, "And Layla."

Hershel and Rick shared a dubious look. "Daryl, she's still healing…" Hershel began, but Daryl cut him off.

"She ain't gonna be willin' to stay here alone-"

"She wouldn't exactly be alone," Rick interjected.

"You know what I mean, Rick," Daryl said in exasperation. "It's been a day. She doesn't trust y'all just yet. But I trust her."

"Why?"

Daryl looked their leader square in the eye. "Merle."

Rick's body tensed up, and Daryl could tell he was heavily weighing how he should respond. He decided to curtail another insincere apology. "And anyways, I could use an extra set of eyes."

"Alright, alright," Rick acquiesced, "But be careful out there. And make sure she can handle a weapon before you put one in her hand."