A/N: one of my longer chapters. same as usual.

disclaimer: i don't own Daryl Dixon (damn) but i most certainly do own Jane Bishop, Grant Bishop, Owen Bishop, and Nolan Buford (oh Nolan...if only you were real...)

When the world had gone to hell, it had been my father, my older brother Grant, myself, and Grant's best friend. My father had taken control almost immediately, packing up all the guns and ammunition in our home, loading it into his truck. I was the unwanted addition almost immediately. All the men could shoot. I could do nothing.

But Grant refused to leave me behind. He argued with our father for nearly an hour, before Dad finally gave up upon realizing we were losing precious time. Grant's best friend, a twenty-eight-year old reporter who was three years my senior, gave me the first smile of the apocalypse.

His name was Nolan Buford.

He had eyes the color of melted chocolate, a kindly smile, and a laugh that made me blush.

With him, it was easy to forget that at any second, I could be killed. He always made me smile, always made me feel safe. Even when we joined forces with a few neighbors, when I was afraid of the way they would look at me. Even when my father would shift blame onto me for a death in our fragile group. It didn't mean anything, because Nolan would smile at me and I would be okay.

Nolan carried around all his things in the red and black backpack he'd packed to stay the weekend at our house. Grant and I had both moved back home the previous year to care for Mom. I had rented an apartment with one of my friends after she passed away, but that didn't matter much after the apocalypse hit.

One day, Noland pulled out a little blue box and, with the most endearing flush on his cheeks, handed it to me late at night in front of the fire.

"I had bought it as a birthday present for you," he told me.

My birthday had been three months before the world ended. I told him so.

"I was afraid to give it to you then," he admitted sheepishly.

The present was a necklace, a little gold rose on a delicate chain. On his salary, it was more than he should have spent on my birthday present. We'd known each other for five years, but that didn't warrant such a present.

My brother was the first person I loved to die after the world ended. When the undead got to him, when my father had to fire his gun into Grant's head, I collapsed against Nolan.

That night, he loved me.

Two months later, he was dead, too.

I wondered if I could sink into the bed. Just fall straight through and disappear forever. I kept my eyes closed, focusing on breathing. Remorse and shame surrounded me. Carol came in for a little while, but when I remained unresponsive, she left less than an hour later. My fingers curled around the gold rose, a necklace I still wore, a necklace that had survived longer than the one who gave it to me.

Nolan.

I hadn't even thought his name in a while, separating myself so I wouldn't fall to bits. Here, in the first warm bed since the zombies came, I could let myself fall apart. I cried until my throat swelled, until my eyes were red and sore and swollen.

Nolan, I'm so sorry. I didn't know…I didn't know…

Maybe if I had eaten when I'd been hungry instead of rationing. Maybe if I'd taken better care of myself. Maybe if I'd noticed that I was pregnant—

Had I lost the baby because I hadn't eaten? Because I hadn't known? Because I'd slept with Daryl?

I made the mistake of opening my eyes on that third day. Daryl was sitting in the chair on the opposite wall, fast asleep by the looks of it. The door opened, stirring him, and a man in a sheriff's deputy uniform poked his head in.

"Daryl," he said quietly. "Hey, Glenn and Maggie are going to make a trip to the pharmacy."

"They need backup?" Daryl's hand dropped off the arm of the chair to rest on his crossbow. That thing might as well have been his fucking child.

"They said they didn't, but you can tag along anyway if you want." The man nodded towards me. I left my eyes lidded to give the appearance of being asleep. If they knew I was awake, they'd try to talk to me. I didn't have the energy right now. "Is there anything in particular you needed?"

"Gotta get some stuff for her. Doc Greene said she's gonna keep bleedin' for a while."

I closed my eyes. It was safer that way instead of trying to sneak a peek. Steady breathing. In and out. Rinse. Repeat.

"Look, Daryl." The man lowered his voice as if I were awake. "I don't really want to do this here, but—"

"You got somethin' to say to me, Rick, go 'head and say it."

"Andrea's pretty pissed you took in a stranger, especially now."

Daryl snorted. "We were all strangers at one point, weren' we, Rick? Why not her? She woulda died if Glenn and I hadn't stepped in."

"Her point is that we can't keep doing that. We have to start thinking about the survival of the group."

"One little harmless girly's gonna endanger us?"

"If she can't take care of herself, then we have to take care of her. We'll be constantly watching her back—"

"I thought that's what this damn group was all about." Daryl's voice was stiff. For a second, I didn't even realize he was defending me.

"Daryl, you're taking this the wrong way. I don't agree with Andrea, you know I'd prefer to save everyone we can, but I can she where she gets her point…and so can Shane and T-Dog. They've shut up about it for now, since she's…" The man, Rick, trailed off. "When she gets better, we'll just have to present her with a few options. If she has nowhere else, I'm not going to kick her out. Just something to consider before you get attached."

"Attached? Nah, not me, Rick. Got the wrong guy."

I suddenly wished I could see Daryl's expression right now. It was just too risky to open my eyes and look.

"Yeah, well, I just wish someone had given Carol this advice. She got pretty upset when Andrea was bringing this up to me. Dale seemed like he didn't want to hear it either."

"Girl must be sweet. Only explanation for why she can be liked by Carol and be almost useless at the same time."

I couldn't help it—I opened my eyes to look. Daryl was staring right at me. Our eyes locked, and then Rick's head began to turn and I let my lids quickly drop again.

"Do you want me or Lori to take watch in case she wakes up?"

"No," said Daryl slowly. "She'll prob'ly panic if she wakes and sees people she don't know. Just let her well enough alone until I get back."

I heard Daryl's boots on the wood floor as he stood and walked to the door. I checked through my lashes.

Rick grabbed Daryl's arm. "Why the concern for her?"

"Have you looked at her, Rick?"

Rick looked at me. He appeared haggard and worn, and I wondered briefly if he was as old as he seemed.

"I known her for a week. You ain't formally met her yet. Tell me you can look at her like that, in that bed, and not be concerned."

Rick said nothing.

"If you can't," said Daryl in a quiet voice, "tell me how you expect I can."

"Oddly gentle of you, Daryl."

"Shut it, Rick."

I must have fallen asleep for real. It was dark outside now, the lamp still lighting the room in a warm glow, and Daryl was back at his post in the chair directly across from me.

"Don't pretend to be asleep again, girly," he said. "I know you're up."

When I didn't say anything, he stood, pulling the chair over to the side of the bed. It was antique-looking, almost an armchair, and he lifted it with one hand like it was nothing, his arm muscles flexing.

"I didn't go with Glenn to the pharmacy. Chinaman told me they didn't need backup. He grabbed you some things for the bleeding."

When he realized I wasn't going to answer, that I was just going to stare at him until he became uncomfortable and left, he nodded.

"Went on another search for Sophia." Daryl reached into the bowl sitting on the beside table. The bowl was half filled with water, a washcloth folded over its edge, and he pulled out the washcloth and wiped his own forehead with it. He was still dirty and sweating. Evidently he'd come here first instead of bathing. Judging from the look on his face, he hadn't found Sophia. "Found an old abandoned house. It looked like someone'd been sleeping there, but I didn't find her."

He paused, looked down at his hands, then wiped his face again. With some of the dirt gone, he looked less wild. "There was a big fuss about the well. Geek fell in."

I glanced quickly at the water in the bowl, and he chuckled.

"Don't worry, girly, they have five wells. How ya feelin'?"

I closed my eyes and let my chest deflate as an answer.

"It's tough shit, girly. Sorry."

I wondered if he'd ever really been sincere when he'd said that word. It never seemed to sound like it. At least not when he said it to me.

"You can't stay holed up in here, though. I understand you're grievin', you're in pain, but this ain't the kind of world anymore where you can just sit around and mope. You gotta move on, you gotta—"

"Don't tell me," I began dangerously, my voice wobbling, "what I 'gotta' do. You have no idea what I am going through."

"To be fair," he countered, "you didn't even know you were pregnant. I'm sure the dad'll have no problems knockin' you up again—"

My expression must have given away how I felt at his words, because he stopped dead and stared at me. "Shit. He's gone, isn't he? That's why you're so upset."

"I don't want to talk about it—"

"That's fine by me, Jane. I don't do the emotional stuff." My eyes shot to him as he said my first name. "But my previous point still stands. Nothin' left to do but move on."

He just looked at me for a long while. I let my gaze wander.

"Why don't you go wash up?" I asked. "It'd be nice to look at someone that's clean."

"Funny. You didn't seem to care the other night that I was…dirty." He gave me a roguish smile, laughing quietly.

I narrowed my eyes, and he responded by wiping his face with the washcloth again. He let loose a sigh and my eyebrows raised.

"I admit, feels good to get the layer of grit off," he said.

I blinked at him, sitting up a little despite myself. "You look like Murphy."

"Who the hell's Murphy?" Daryl's eyes trailed down to where the towels covered my body. "Was he…" His expression was strange.

"Murphy MacManus," I added.

No spark of recognition.

"From Boondock Saints?"

Nothing.

"Don't tell me you've never seen that movie."

Nada.

I groaned, falling back against the pillow. "How can you even call yourself human?"

"Okay, girly, what the fuck is a Boondock Saint."

Something happened then that I could never explain. I laughed. Rolling onto my side, hand over my mouth, eyes closed, laughing.

"I don't understand you," Daryl grumbled, obviously offended by my laughter.

"Feeling's mutual." I stared at him long and hard after I stopped laughing, the features of his face more visible than ever with most of the filth gone. He really wasn't bad looking. He just had the same markers of weariness as anyone—bags under his eyes, bruises and cuts on his face, a tightness near his lips that came from not smiling very often. "If I promise to get out of this bed tomorrow, will you promise to take a shower tonight?"

He gave me the, You're kidding, right?, look. When he figured I was serious, he asked, "What does it matter to you if I'm clean?"

"I want to know what you'd look like if this wasn't an apocalypse," I said. "I want some semblance of normalcy. In this room, I can almost pretend the world didn't end. And then I see you. A walking testament to how fucked up everything is. You've got dirt on your face, blood on your clothes, and mud in your hair, and you've been wearing the same shit for the entire week I've known you. I want to see you in fresh clothes, with a washed face. Maybe even clean shaven. I don't want to look at you and think, well there's a man to run to if something's coming after me. I want to look at you and just think, well there's a man."

He sat through my whole speech, surprisingly enough, without a word until he was sure I was finished. "Why me and not the rest of 'em?"

"It's easier to pretend with them." For a moment, it actually looked like he was about to smile. "You're always the dirtiest, because you risk the most. And don't think for one millisecond that I'm not grateful you do."

The room was quiet. I was almost worried I'd slighted him somehow.

"I'll clean up tonight," he said finally. "But you gotta leave the room. Not just the bed. The room."

I took a deep breath. "Meet the rest of the gang?"

"If you want. Don't matter to me."

Fair enough. I held out my hand, and after shooting me an amused glance, Daryl took it. "Deal."

"Deal. Get some sleep." He settled back into the chair.

"Aren't you gonna leave?"

"And go where? Back out by Dale's RV in a tent? Nah, I'll stay right here, thank you." He folded his hands in his lap, legs sprawled out. "Unless you got a problem with me bein' here?"

A grin tugged at my mouth. "Don't matter to me."

A/N: i'm pretty proud of Jane's little speech near the end. review :)