Daryl

I step out on the terrace to have a smoke after dinner. Got in late from guard duty, and by the time I made it to the dining room, most everyone had cleared out. Beth included. Damn girl's like a ghost during the waking hours. Wish she'd just throw me a bone. Our conversation this morning was a start, and I'll take that. And she asked for time. I can give her time.

I wander down the steps aimlessly, taking a long drag off my cigarette. The sun is dipping on the horizon, taking its rays with it, and it's almost dark out. The moon is already out, nice and full. I reach the bottom of the stairs and step onto the grass. It's been trimmed short. Someone must've mowed. Probably Rick. He's the only one who cares about shit like that. I guess it's nice though. Probably took care of his own yard like this before the turn. Bet it wasn't nothing like this lawn, which goes on for fucking days. But I'm sure it was nice. That's the kinda man Rick is. Doing shit like this is good for him.

I'm stubbing out my cigarette when I hear a distant giggle. I freeze and listen. The second one is louder and filters into full blown laughter. I follow it to the side of the building then along the tall, stone fence that separates the front lawn from the back. It's the same fence that surrounds the property, but there's no threat of walkers here.

After a minute, I stumble upon the source. Beth and Lemon. I can clearly make out their silhouettes, sitting up on the fence, right out in the middle. It takes them a long moment to notice me approaching, but once they do it shuts their giggling right down.

"Oh, shit," Lemon hisses. "Put it out. Put it out!"

She's slapping at something in Beth's hands, and Beth slaps back. I walk a little faster, because I'm worried they're drunk and one of them is going to teeter off the wall and fall.

"Hurry up," Lemon whisper-shouts. "Oh my God. Oh my God. He's right there. We should run. Let's run. I'm running—"

She twists around like she's gonna jump down on the other side, but Beth grabs hold of her arm and anchors her in place. "Hush."

That's when I smell it. I'm still a few yards away, but I'd recognize that scent anywhere. A slow smile pulls at my lips, because I can't believe it. Beth and Lemon are out here smoking weed and whispering like a pair of guilty teenagers. Now I knew Lemon had Dr. S wrapped around her finger and direct access to his stash of "medicinal" cannabis, but I'm a little shocked to find Beth here.

They're both fluffing their hair, and straightening their spines, and trying to look as innocent as possible when I come to a stop in front of them.

I tilt my head back to look up at them. "What's goin' on up there?"

"Nothing," Lemon blurts. "We aren't doing anything."

I raise my eyebrows, and she rushes on. "It was Beth's idea!"

I raise my eyebrows higher. "That right?"

Beth just shrugs one of her shoulders. "Got into it with Maggie."

I still can't believe she's out here smoking a joint. I look up at the wall. It's tall, a good seven feet. We have ladders set up around the perimeter, since climbing up and using a spear is the easiest way to take care of walkers that stack up on the spikes. Ain't no ladders on this part of this fence though.

I shake my head, can't hide my smile. "How'd y'all even get up there?"

"Wasn't easy." Beth laughs. "I kicked Lemon in the head a few times. She might have a concussion."

I chuckle. They really are something else. Lemon is good for Beth. With the rest of the group, Beth stays wound up tight. She plasters on this fake smile that fools all of them. But with Lemon, she's always got this grin that looks like it ripped out of somewhere deep. One that goes all the way to her eyes.

I lift my bow off my shoulder and lean it up against the wall by Beth's. "Y'all gonna invite me up or what?"

Beth grins, and her teeth look extra white against the approaching night sky. "C'mon up, Dixon. If you can climb, you can join us."

I have to get a running start, but I manage to jump high enough to hook my arms over the ledge. Then it's just a matter a pulling myself up. The rough surface scratches at my skin, but it's a small price to pay, because once I'm settled I'm close enough to Beth that my arm keeps brushing her shoulder. Each touch feels like a jolt of electricity. Didn't ever think I'd find a girl that made me feel sparks. Didn't think shit like that even existed. But damn, it does. And she's it for me.

"What happened with Maggie?" I venture.

Beth hands Lemon a lighter, and Lemon gets busy re-lighting the joint they abandoned in a panic. "She was giving me shit about not coming by her room," Beth answers with a shrug. "Things are weird between us right now. Guess I'm just mad about her taking off to Washington."

The muscles in my shoulders coil up. "You knew about that?"

"Yeah." She flicks her wrist through the air like it's no big deal. "Eugene was telling me about meeting up with the group and Terminus. The Maggie thing just sort of slipped out after."

Beth takes the joint from Lemon and holds it out to me, but I shake my head. "I shouldn't." I try to keep my head screwed on tight. Just in case shit goes bad.

"Come on." She bumps me with her shoulder. "Nothing's gonna happen. This place is boring."

I snort, but she's right. These walls are tall and thick. Ain't nothing taking them down. Been awhile since we were threatened by another group, and even if it happened again, even if it happened right now, we have enough men and enough artillery that they wouldn't need me.

Beth lifts it to her lips and inhales deeply. She holds it in for a few beats then leans in and blows the smoke right in my face, the space between my mouth and hers microscopic. It feels like a dare, and it takes every ounce of strength in me not to suck that bottom lip into my mouth just to show her who she's messing with. The smoke is earthy and thick, mixed in with the sweet smell of her shampoo. Why is my dick getting hard? Fuck.

I take the joint from her and take a long drag before passing it back. Her fingertips brush mine, and it feels like it was on purpose. Like maybe all these little touches set her off balance just as much as they do me. I laugh when I blow the smoke out. "Didn't think I'd ever see the day when you'd be the one corruptin' me, Greene."

She'd done it with the moonshine too. I was stressed and tore up. Thought we'd lost everyone. We were in a damn shack. Weren't in no position to be drinking shine like we were safe. But I gave in then too. I was a real asshole that night, but I can't regret it. Something happened that night. She tore her way through all my walls and wormed her way under my skin, and I ain't ever been able to shake her since.

Beth is opening her mouth to respond when Lemon interrupts. "You guys better not start getting all romantic and shit out here. I mean, I know we're under the stars and Beth has pretty hair, but please control yourself, Daryl." Her tone is teasing, and instead of barking back at her I just grunt a response. Guess I'm getting used to a lot of shit I never thought I would. Beth laughs, and I decide Lemon can snipe at me all she wants.

Lemon thumps Beth on the knee. "You gonna finish telling me about the hospital?"

I perk up a little, because this is something I want to hear about. I know about Grady Memorial, because I'd eventually managed to track that car down. I want to hear her side of the story though. Beth, and many of the hospitals occupants, were long gone by the time I got there. Just got to talk to some doctor. He gave me Beth's knife and some bracelets they'd taken off of her when she was admitted. Told me she'd escaped before shit really went down there. I haven't worked up the nerve to return her stuff yet. Guess I'm waiting for the right moment. Either that or I'm a chicken shit.

"Alright," Beth says. "Where were we?"

"You and Daryl at the funeral home," Lemon reminds her. She sounds like she's smirking, and I wonder if Beth told her about our dinner. All that candlelight. And that charged conversation. That quiet, "Oh." That was the moment that set everything in motion for us. And then it was all shut down and taken away before I could even blink.

"Right. So the last thing I remember, I was sitting at the table with Daryl. I have a few flashes of running into the woods. A pair of orderlies taking me. Then everything goes blank and the next thing I know I'm waking up there, in a hospital room. They said I had a fractured wrist and a superficial head wound. That they found me struggling with walkers in the middle of the road."

"It didn't seem bad at first. Things were quiet there, but something just seemed off, you know? I didn't wanna stay. I wanted to get back out there and find my group. But they had this system there. For all the resources you use, you pay them back with time."

"I met this kid, Noah, there. Thank God. We got out together—wasn't pretty though. I got shot in the head, and he tumbled halfway down an elevator shaft. We had to do it though. Yeah, it was safe. But the people there were dangerous."

Lemon gasps while I'm busy choking on my own spit. My entire body bristles. Lemon beats me to the question. "They shot you?"

Beth laughs a little, but it sounds strained. "Yeah. Bunch of cops ran the place, and they were the worst kind, always making plays for power. That's why they took me in. Guess I looked weak enough when they came across me. They wanted wards they could boss around, talk down to. And, you know, take advantage of. Anyway, they didn't take to our defiance too well. Bullet barely grazed me though." She touches a spot in her hair, and I know it's because there's a scar there. It makes me sick. I can't believe she's talking about a head wound like that, like it's no big deal.

My chest feels like someone just tossed a handful of shiny, sharp nails into it. I didn't know. After I met the doctor, I had this crazy hope that maybe things weren't so bad there. I didn't know. Fuck. A million questions are running through my head. Did they hurt her? They obviously hurt her. Is that how she got the scars on her face? Did they take advantage of her? I can't even think about that without an icy rage seeping into my veins like poison. My hands are clenched into fists so tight, they're paling, and blood is roaring in my ears.

Beth

"Oh my God, Beth!" Lemon throws her arms around my shoulders and squeezes until it hurts. "That must have been awful."

"Nah." I shake my head to play it off. "Me and Noah got out quick. I was lucky to have his help."

Daryl's stiff as a board beside me, his arms flexed tight like he's about to go all incredible hulk. I reach one hand out and move a finger along his knuckles. That tiny brush of a touch seems to jolt him out of his thoughts.

"What happened to Noah?" Lemon asks. She sounds concerned. That's just the kind of person Lemon is. She's worries about everyone—even people she doesn't know.

The joint we've been passing in a circle is down to nothing. I lean forward and stub it out on the side of the wall. "Noah headed to Richmond to look for family, and I stayed in Georgia to do the same. I got lucky and found some signs Maggie left for Glenn. Then I found a map with Rick's name on it. I was following that route when y'all found me. I don't know what happened to Noah, but I hope he found what he was looking for."

Lemon lays her head on my shoulder. "Thanks for telling me, Beth."

I shrug my other shoulder like it's nothing, because honestly when Lemon asked about it, it wasn't hard to tell. I left out all the gory details, but I got some of it out. And Daryl was right. I feel better.

I lean up against Daryl, and we stay that way for a long time. Lemon's head on my shoulder. My head on Daryl's shoulder, the hum of cicadas and the bustle of swaying trees surrounding us. Eventually, Carol's voice carries through the night, breaking the sleepy calm when she calls Lemon's name from the back terrace.

"Oh, shit!" Lemon shoots up and pats down her hair. "I promised to help her with pastries for breakfast tomorrow. I gotta go. Help me down, would ya?"

I hold onto her arms as she gets on her stomach and slowly inches her way down the wall. When my arms are fully extended, I let go and she drops the remaining distance with a quiet thud. Then she lopes off in the direction of Carol's voice.

When she's gone, I tilt my head back and look up at the sky. "The stars are pretty tonight. Kinda reminds me of being on the farm. Before the turn. The sky always looked so different when you got away from the city. Guess it's always gonna be like that now, huh?"

"Mmm," Daryl hums, chin tipped back. "Guess so."

He slides his hand down slowly until it's close to mine. Then his pink finger brushes mine. I flip my palm up and our fingers intertwine. Everything feels good and right. We stay that way for a long time. Not moving, barely touching, staring up at the night sky. Everything is calm and quiet. Everything is still.

My eyes are getting heavy by the time Daryl nudges my shoulder and mumbles something about going inside.

I sit up and nod, stretching my arms over my head. He hops down first, stumbling a little when he hits the ground, but otherwise making it look easy. I go slower, laying on my belly and wiggling my way down the wall while I grip onto the ledge, which is tearing at the skin of my fingers.

When my arms are fully extended, I dangle there for a moment, uncertain. Then I feel Daryl's hands on my waist, warm and strong. "C'mon," he says gruffly. "I got ya."

I let go, and he lowers me down, my back brushing his chest just before my boots find the ground. I push a few strands of hair out of my eyes and twist around to face him. "Thanks." His hands are on my hips, and it makes me voice come out all breathy.

I can see the gleam of his smile in the dark, and I take a step closer to him. I don't even know if it's voluntary or if my body has decided on its own to get closer. That smile draws me in whether I want it to or not, and now we're chest to chest.

I tilt my chin up, and he's looking down at me. I can feel the intensity of his gaze, and it sends my heart into a frantic rhythm. I want to kiss him.

I put my hands on his chest and rise to my tiptoes. He leans down at the same time, meeting me in the middle. He kisses me once, twice, three times, pulling back hair's breadth each time while reeling me closer and closer until I'm completely off-balance and curving into him.

I trace my tongue along the soft, full part of his lower lip, and he opens his mouth. Our tongues finally touch, tangling and teasing at a leisurely pace. His hands skim up my waist and slide under my jaw, tilting my head to the side to deepen the kiss.

When he nips my bottom lip then pulls it into his mouth, it makes my head spin. I have to put a hand on his chest to steady myself. I feel his heart leaping under my palm, and like mine, it's racing.

A few more hungry nips, and the kiss isn't so sweet anymore. Now it's rushed. Frantic. Clawing. He reaches down, wraps his hand around my thigh, and tugs, almost roughly. I lock it around his waist and bring my other around to do the same. One arm wraps around the small of my back and the other cradles my head as he backs me into the wall and presses his hips against mine with a hungry need that makes my head dip and spin. My hands tangle in his hair, and a growl comes from deep in his throat. The noise triggers waves of need in my belly that coil and spring like stretchy filaments of connection to every nerve ending I have.

I unknot and unravel so fast, I would be a puddle on the ground if he weren't holding me up. All ability to think logically flips off like a switch, and I spread my legs wider so I'm crushed against the hard length straining against his jeans. My hands move on their own. I tug at his shirt until our mouths break apart long enough to yank it half over his head, leaving it hanging off one shoulder.

He drags his hand from my head to my neck, then over my collarbone, between my breasts. His fingers keep skimming down until they reach the hem of my shirt. Then they slip beneath, and he traces the sensitive skin just above the waistline of my jeans. It sends a zing of electricity right through my middle.

He tears his mouth away from mine and drags it along the line of my jaw, pressing open-mouthed kisses down my neck, then along the base of my throat to my collarbone. My head falls back as a moan comes tumbling out, and I bump my head. But the pain barely even registers through this lust induced fog.

I pull my fingers down his neck, scratching lightly, then drag them over his chest, bumping over the ridges of his defined chest. They skim all the way to his hard abdomen and the coarse trail of hair that disappears into his jeans. Even though I know it's a danger zone, I keep them there, my thumbs trailing back and forth over his happy trail. I'm playing with fire, and I love it.

His mouth crashes back to mine, his arm tightening around my back as his free hand goes to my belt and pulls it through the buckle. In one smooth motion, he flicks the button of my jeans open. With his tongue sweeping across mine, he reaches for my zipper. It's the mechanical tug of the metal that seems to snap both of us out of the trance.

The tips of his fingers are coasting over the fabric of my underwear. Slowly, he pulls his mouth away and leans his forehead against mine. The echo of our breathing, so thunderous just a moment ago, fades as we come out of the frenzy we worked ourselves into.

Daryl laughs a little, it's low and rough, and I feel his chest vibrate beneath my hands. "What're we doin', Greene?"

I can only laugh, because we must look ridiculous. Daryl's shirt is hanging from his elbow. My pants are undone, and I'm sure we both have sex hair, swollen lips, and dilated pupils. Thank God the only light comes from the silver moon above.

He lowers me to the ground slowly. I have to put my hands on his chest to steady myself, because my legs are trembling. I'm a little embarrassed until he reaches down to button my jeans back up, and I realize his hands are shaking too.

I watch as he threads the strap of my belt back through the buckle and cinches it tight. I let go of him, so he can take a step back and put his shirt back on. I pull the tie out of my hair and re-do it. When I'm done, Daryl hands me my bow, and I slip the strap over my shoulder and try not to think about the fact that we were both trying to rip each others clothes off moments ago. If we hadn't been here, out in the open, who knows what could have happened.

Daryl is doing some dirty, dirty things to me in my mind, when actual, real-life Daryl pulls me back to reality. "I know this is shit for timing and you probably won't care, but I wanted to let you know that I'm goin' on a run. Leavin' tomorrow mornin'."

"Okay," I say slowly, trying to figure out exactly what he's trying to tell me here. "So you'll be gone tomorrow?"

I hear him swallow. "Yeah. Gonna be gone tomorrow and then some."

I frown. "Where are you going?"

"Taking a group up to Maine. Mark's been scouting cargo ships out that way. Found a shipment of AR's and ammo . . . and toothpaste. So we're gonna take some of the semis and haul back what we can."

"So how long will you be gone?" My heart feels like it just dropped out of my chest.

He shrugs. "A week. Maybe two. Guess it just depends."

I tense up. Instantly. My muscles have gone from jelly to stone, and I hate that it happens so fast. And I hate that I feel a distinct, shitty hollowness take root with his words. One that I have no clue how to begin filling. One that I don't even understand. My throat feels tight, and I know I'm being overly emotional, but I feel like I just got sucker punched.

"For toothpaste? Are you kidding me? That's so stupid." I start to stalk away. He follows. "We don't even need toothpaste! We have shelves and shelves of toiletries in the basement. I've seen them. We're literally stocked for life. It's probably not even good toothpaste, Daryl! I bet it's that special, whitening kind that got recalled, because it was stripping everyone's enamel away. Why else would it be there all perfect and untouched? You're gonna risk your life for some stupid toothpaste that's just gonna ruin everyone's enamel? I won't even be able to eat apples without my enamel! It's going to ruin everything."

"There's mouthwash too," he mumbles, and I whirl around to face him. The move is so abrupt, he doesn't even realize I've stopped walking and runs right into me. I stumble back, and he reaches out to steady me, but I side-step him and cross my arms over my chest. I'm glaring at him. I know he can't see, but anger is rolling off of me in waves, and I know he has to feel it.

"We don't need mouthwash." I'm dangerously close to stomping my foot like a child. "We don't need the weapons either. Our armory is solid. And we don't need the toothpaste. We don't."

"This isn't about the toothpaste, is it?" His voice gets soft on me, and when he reaches out to put a hand on my hip, I let him.

I take a deep breath and let it leak out in a wobbly whoosh of a breath. He's right—this isn't about the toothpaste, or the mouthwash, or the weapons, or the ammo. It's about him. The day he snapped at me for going on a run with Lemon, freaking out at the orchard . . . it suddenly all makes perfect sense.

"I don't want you go." My voice shakes a tiny bit, but I get a handle on it.

He wraps his arms around me and pulls me to his chest, trapping my hands between us. I let out a shuddery sigh and bury my head in his chest. We just started something. He can't go. Not now.

He runs his hand over my hair. "I'll be back," he murmurs. "Won't take no time."

I nod my head, my cheek brushing against the rough fabric of his shirt. He keeps me wrapped up in his embrace, and I'm glad. I'm not ready to let go. I can't. In all honesty, I'm terrified. Because for the first time in a long time, I have something to lose. Something I would do anything to keep.

The next morning, I wake up slowly. Daryl's long arm is wrapped around my waist, and my back is pressed to his chest. It's the same position we wake up in most days. I prop myself up on my elbow and glance over my shoulder.

The patch of sky I see out the window over the crest of Daryl's shoulder is as purple as a fresh bruise, the remnants of the night sky slowly being chased away by the encroaching dawn. I'm usually up and outside before there's any sign of light, but today I decided to nestle back up to Daryl and sleep in. And I know that has everything to do with the fact that he's leaving in a few hours, and I want to cling to him as long as humanly possible.

I stretch my arm over my head and yawn, twisting around to lay on my opposite side, facing him. His arm tightens around me, and I feel the press of his hard-on on my thigh. He murmurs something about minutes and more sleep and, eyes closed, dips his head to my neck, draws a long breath in, hums with contentment, and neatly flips me under his long body.

His kisses are feather-light and soft-lipped sweet, and my legs spread to nestle around his, pressing him against me. For one sweet skip of a second, I let my entire body soak in the hot-water-and-bubbles-good feel of him. Then the reality of him leaving sets in, and I sigh.

His eyes slither open, pure blue and instantly sharp with shaken-off sleep. "Mornin'." He pushes up, arms taut, and looks down at the v our jointed bodies make. "Excuse my enthusiasm."

I laugh a little. "Don't worry about it. Just a morning thing, right?"

"Yeah, sure. Just a mornin' thing." He pauses for a long second then rolls off of me with a crooked grin. It makes me ache. "I gotta hop in the shower. But if you want, we can grab breakfast together? If you ain't too worried about your enamel and apples and all . . . "

I shove his chest and sit up, biting my lip to stop my smile. "We can do that. Give me twenty minutes."

Daryl sits with me and Lemon at breakfast. Daryl hardly ever comes to the dining room for meals, and when he does, he sits with Rick or Carol. Everyone looks pretty confused, aside from Maggie, who is busy shooting me looks that alternate between hurt and mad. It makes me bristle, but I do my best to ignore it. Leave it up to my big, bossy sister to treat me like I'm the one who did her wrong when she messed up.

I eat an apple and a piece of bread that Daryl forces on me. My stomach feels unsettled, and the entire time I can't stop thinking about him going. I mostly stay quiet. Lemon does enough talking for the three of us anyway. When we finish our meal, I follow Daryl out the front. The trucks are already there, and a few guys are loading the last of the supplies—crates of food, water, the necessities. This is it.

Daryl pulls me to the side. "Can't let you watch me leave, Greene."

"Why not?" My voice comes out shaky, and I hate that this is getting to me. I hate that I want to beg him to stay.

"Because." He puts his hands on my shoulders, and it spooks me a little because he doesn't usually touch me when people are around. Even if it's something as innocent as this. "The way you're lookin' at me is makin' me feel all tore up."

I swallow down a lump in my throat, but another one forms in its place. I manage to nod.

He flashes that half-grin, the one that usually makes my knees feel weak, but it doesn't have as much sunshine today. "Besides, you're just gonna be starin' at my ass the whole time, thinkin' about ravishing me, and I'm not just a piece of meat."

I shake my head and laugh a little despite myself. "You're full of yourself, you know that?"

He pulls me back a little more, so we're half hidden behind a large marble column. Then he tugs me into a hug. "I'm gonna be back before you know it," he says softly, his breath tickling my ear.

I take a deep breath, inhaling his woodsy, clean scent, then mumble into his chest. "I know."

We stay that way for a long moment. Then he lets me go, and I take a slow step back. I can see all the little slivers of silver in his eyes, and it makes me want to launch myself back into his arms. But I know I have to let him to do this. It's just part of the world we're living in.

I force a small smile, ignoring the threat of tears prickling behind my eyes. He swallows so hard I see the tendons in his neck strain. I know we both want to say more, but neither of us would know where to start, so I turn on my heel and walk back into the building.

Lemon is waiting for me with Duke sitting at her feet. "You okay?"

I shake my head and press the heels of my palms into my eyes. I will not cry. She takes me by the wrist and leads me away.

The words I said to Daryl so long ago echo through my head, wouldn't kill ya to have a little faith.

He'll be back. He will. He's gonna be the last man standing.

Don't worry, guys! Next chapter is probably gonna be a time jump to Daryl returning. The entire idea behind this story right now is that they're so safe, it's boring. It kind of forces them to realize what they feel for each other. So there won't be any crazy drama that keeps them separated and makes all of you want to show up at my house and beat me over the head with a shoe. I mean, things are just heating up! I can't yank them away from each other just yet. And of course, thank you for all the sweet reviews, and the follows and favorites too! Seriously some of y'all are so nice I just wanna find you in real life and squeeze you!