Much like Rick, Tilly and Daryl were unable to get any sleep after they returned. They sat together in the church office. He swiveled slowly from side-to-side in the black, padded chair behind the desk while she sat perched on top of a small cabinet, her feet dangling above the ground.
"Do you think what we did was right?" Tilly asked, staring at the droplets of blood spattered on her jeans.
He shrugged as he spun one of his arrows between his fingers. "I don't know," he answered. "Not like they didn't deserve it, though."
"I know, I'm just having a hard time processing the things we… I did last night." She tugged at a piece of her hair, wrapping it around her finger. "I enjoyed it, Daryl," she admitted. "When I heard all of the things they had done, I wanted to tear them apart with my bare hands. And then, I did. It was the most satisfying thing I've ever done, and that terrifies me."
Daryl looked up at her. Her eyes sparkled with tears, and she wiggled a dangling foot nervously.
"Am I a monster?" she questioned, looking him in the eye. "I mean, a good person would never even dream of doing… that." She couldn't bring herself to repeat the things they had done to the hunters out loud. Images flashed in her mind of their terrified faces, pleading for mercy as they watched their friends tortured, one by one. She began to sob, covering her face with her hands in a vain attempt to hide it from Daryl.
"God, Tilly, no," Daryl answered as he got up and walked over to her. Though he felt comfortable around the woman, he was still clueless as how to go about comforting her. Until then, she'd always managed to put on a brave face, so he knew it must have really bothered her.
"Come here," he ordered. She looked down at him from the cabinet, her face red and cheeks wet. He reached his hands out and put them under her arms to lift her down in front of him. "Ain't nothing wrong with you, Matilda," he whispered, brushing the hair from her face. "We don't have to like what we did. But we ain't wrong for doing it."
Tilly sniffed and wiped her eyes with her hand. "You don't regret it?"
He shook his head. "I'm not saying it doesn't bother me, but I'll never regret doing something to protect the group."
Tilly managed a small smile, grateful for his reassurance. "I guess if the worst thing I ever do is torture a group of child-eating cannibals I'm doing ok."
Daryl chuckled a little and pulled her into a hug. "Yeah," he nodded, "you're doing ok."
They stood there for a long moment, pressed against one another.
Daryl felt a little uncomfortable seeing her in that vulnerable state. Even though she tried to make light of the situation, he could still see the pain in her eyes.
"I'm sorry to get all weepy and dramatic," she apologized, breaking their contact. "I said it myself, if you let things get to you you'll end up getting yourself killed."
"No," he said, his brow furrowing, "don't apologize. Ain't like this is a little thing, and it just happened. It happens to us all at some point. Messed me up when I had to put Merle down." He blinked his eyes hard, trying to push that memory back out of his head. Few things got to him anymore, but losing Merle, no matter how much of an asshole he was, broke his heart.
"What was your brother like?" Tilly asked. He had mentioned his brother, and that he died, but she didn't know anything else about him.
"You wouldn't have liked him," he answered. "No one did. Hell, I didn't like him most of the time, but he was all I had. He went missing for a while during a run into Atlanta. Rick cuffed him to a roof 'cause he attacked another guy in the group. He got left behind. We went back for him, but he'd cut his own hand off and disappeared."
Tilly's hand flew to her mouth to cover her shocked expression. "He cut off his hand?"
Daryl nodded. "Tough son-of-a-bitch. We came across him a few months later. He was living in Woodbury, working for the Governor."
"The guy who attacked the prison?" she asked.
"That's the one. It's a long story, but Merle chose me over him. He tried to kill that asshole, but he got Merle first. I found him, and put him down." His voice shook a little as he said the last part, but his face remained expressionless.
"God, Daryl, I'm sorry," she reached up to touch his cheek. He flinched a little at her touch, an old habit, but momentarily returned the gesture, stroking his thumb over her cheek bone.
"He died trying to do something good for once in his life. That counts for something, I guess," he replied.
Tilly smiled, "He wasn't really all you had, you know. These people really seem to care about you, value you. You have all of them."
"I know that now," he said.
"You have me too, ya know," she whispered, her eyes suddenly becoming more intense as she looked up at him through her lashes. "If you want me, that is."
Daryl's heart pounded in his chest as he nodded. "I do."
Tilly wrapped an arm around his waist and pressed herself to him, her other hand tangling in his hair and pulling his mouth to hers. She wasn't sure what had gotten into her, maybe it was the events of last night, but she needed him terribly in that moment.
He matched her urgency, gripping the sides of her shirt and pressing her against the cabinet. The hard wood bore into her back, but she didn't care. He allowed his hands to roam, caressing her sides, and then running them down the side of her thighs.
Tilly pressed her hand firmly onto his chest, running it slowly down his stomach and letting it rest at the waist band of his jeans. His breath hitched in his throat as he felt her fingers graze the sensitive skin right above the button. Her fingers found the buckle of his belt and began to pull at the dark leather.
"Hey!" Tyreese called, banging on the door. "Rick wants to talk to all of us."
Tilly let out a deep sigh, unwillingly pulling her hand away from his belt. "Goddamn it," she whispered.
She looked at Daryl and saw his chest heaving, his eyes were closed he stood with one hand on her waist and the other bracing himself against the cabinet.
"You alright?" she asked.
He nodded, "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine."
She smiled as he worked to calm himself down and leaned in to kiss his cheek.
He stepped back a bit, allowing her the space to move away from him and make her way into the sanctuary. He hung back in the office for a moment, gathering himself. He silently chastised himself for getting all worked up over a woman, though he had to admit he enjoyed the time he spent with her. Most of his life he'd found girls to be more trouble than they were worth. It was different with Tilly, though. She didn't need him to take care of her. She was remarkably capable and didn't cling to him the way other women he'd been involved with had. She was the kind of woman who he could fight along-side, and he respected her. But, god, does she drive me crazy.
In the sanctuary, the others talked amongst themselves as they waited for everyone to assemble. Sasha sat next to Tyreese, who had his arm draped around his sister's shoulders. He leaned over and kissed her on the top of the head as she stared at the floor.
Lana and Tara sat next to each other, both turned around backwards, talking to Maggie and Glenn who sat behind them.
"Hey," Tilly greeted as she took a seat next to Glenn, "good to see you're alright."
"Hurts like a bitch, but Eugene says I should be healed up in a few weeks," he replied.
"He a doctor now, too?" Tilly asked, smiling.
"Who the hell knows what he is," Lana laughed.
Glenn shook his head, "I don't know, he just came in and rubbed some kind of gunk made out of tea leaves and candle wax on it and told us to wrap it up."
"Voodoo witch doctor, maybe?" Tara injected, making the rest of them laugh.
Daryl walked into the room, nodding at Tilly and then taking a seat next to Carol.
"Good," Rick began, "we're all here."
Tilly looked behind her and saw that Father Gabriel sat by himself a few rows back, not looking at Rick.
"I've spoken to Abraham and decided we will leave tomorrow, keep heading toward DC. Today, we'll take a group out to find supplies and hopefully another vehicle. We could all fit on the church bus, but we'll need a backup. "
His hand rested unconsciously on the handle of his gun as he addressed the group, and Tilly noticed a hint of sadness in his eyes. Maybe he has regrets about last night, too, she thought.
"I'll take Maggie, Tyreese, Lana and Michonne with me. Father Gabriel says there's a food bank and pharmacy in town we can check out," he continued.
"Dad," Carl spoke up from the front pew, "I want to come with you."
Rick thought for a moment before nodding. "Alright, son."
"Tilly and I can go hunt," Daryl offered, slinging his crossbow onto its normal spot on his shoulder.
"Ok," Rick agreed. "Abraham, would you mind helping Sasha dig a grave for Bob? Gabriel offered him a spot in the church's cemetery."
"No problem," Abraham answered.
"Tara, you're in charge of Judith. I want the rest of you to gather anything useful from around the church. Stay close and make sure someone stays on watch. We leave in 15."
Rick turned and approached Carl as the rest of them broke off to their respective jobs.
"Can I talk to you for a minute?" Rick asked, laying his hand on his son's shoulder.
Carl nodded, and Rick took a seat next to him. "About this morning," he began.
"Don't," Carl interrupted. "You don't need to explain yourself to me. I was upset because you were. Dad, you have to stop doubting yourself. You did what needed to be done. They got what they deserved."
It unnerved Rick how quickly Carl defended his assault on the hunters. "They did deserve it, you're right about that," he responded. "But we don't need to do those things. We kill when we have to, but we can't let it get out of hand."
"You were a cop, Dad. It was your job to make sure justice was served. You'd never have done what you did if it wasn't just," Carl said, his face serious.
Rick didn't know how to respond. His son was right. While he had done some terrible things, they were never without reason. He leaned over and kissed Carl on the head. "You're a smart kid, ya know that?"
Carl smiled back at him in response, and the two of them began getting ready to head into town.
"We'll head off east," Daryl decided as he and Tilly stood in the church yard. "Woods are heavier that way."
"Whatever you say," Tilly agreed, sticking her pistol in the front of her jeans. Over her shoulder she had a quiver of arrows and bow she found at the Termite's camp.
"You know how to use that thing?" Daryl asked, nodding toward the large bow.
Tilly rolled her eyes. "Why are you always so skeptical of my weapon abilities?"
"Never seen you use one before s'all," he shrugged.
"That's because I never have," she laughed, punching him in the shoulder. "Good a time as any to learn, I figure. C'mon, let's go."
Once they were in the woods, Daryl offered to give her a quick lesson with the bow. He showed her the proper stance and where to position her hands, then he took his knife and carved an 'X' in a tree several feet in front of her.
"Let's see what ya got," he challenged.
Tilly took a deep breath and positioned herself as he had showed her. She raised the bow and pulled back the string, then let the arrow fly toward the tree. It whizzed past it and clunked against a large rock.
"Nice one, Robin Hood," he smirked, and she felt herself blush.
"Shut up, dude," she answered. "I bet you weren't an ace right off the bat either."
Daryl shook his head and chuckled. "Nah, damn near hit Merle in the leg first time I tried. I ain't gonna kick your ass like he did mine, though, so don't worry."
"Like you could anyway," she teased, repositioning herself and readying another arrow.
He studied her face as she pulled the arrow back, focusing on her target. He noticed how her eyebrows furrowed and she bit her tongue as she aimed.
"Just relax," he advised. "Don't think about it. Just point and let it fly."
Tilly released the breath she was holding and let go of the string. The arrow stuck with a dull thud into the bark of the tree, about a foot above the arrow. "At least I hit the tree that time," she smiled.
Daryl nodded, enjoying the excitement on her face. "Yeah, you'll get there. C'mon, let's see if we can't find something alive for you to shoot."
As they wandered between the trees in search of prey, Daryl took the lead as usual, managing to get three squirrels. He allowed Tilly to take a shot at a rabbit, but she was no match for the moving target and her arrow stuck unceremoniously in the dirt.
That afternoon, they stopped by a creek to get some water and rest. Tilly wanted nothing more than to jump into the water and clean herself but the cooler temperature, and current company, helped her resist the urge.
"What do you miss most about before?" Tilly asked as she splashed a bit of water on her face and ran it through her hair.
"Not a damn thing," he answered. "Aside from the people walkin' around trying to eat me, this really ain't that different."
Tilly pursed her lips, unsure of how to respond. She felt for the man, for the hard life he had lived.
Daryl noticed she was uncomfortable. "Alright," he smirked, "I do miss pizza." He was beginning to pick up Tilly's habit of using humor to deflect awkward situations. It seemed to go over better than his usual penchant of scowling and walking away.
"Oh fuck, what I wouldn't give for a pizza," Tilly sighed, her mouth watering at the thought.
"What about you?" he asked. "What do you miss most?"
"That's easy," she responded. "I miss bourbon."
Daryl threw back his head and laughed. "Bourbon? That's the last thing I expected you to say. Didn't take you for a drinker."
Tilly rolled her eyes and went to sit down in front of him. "I grew up in Kentucky, Dixon. They'll practically kick ya out of the state if you can't hold your bourbon."
"I hear ya'll make some kick- ass fried chicken, too," he smiled.
"I make the kick-assiest fried chicken you've ever set upon your taste buds," she answered proudly. "We ever get our hands on a real kitchen I'll show ya how it's done."
"I'm gonna hold ya to that," he promised. "We should get back at it." He stood and slung his crossbow onto his back, and Tilly collected her gear as well.
The two of them worked their way down the creek, checking for any game.
"Shh!" Tilly whispered, pointing ahead of them. There stood a large doe, her head turned in their direction, looking Tilly right in the eye. Daryl raised his crossbow and pointed it at the heart of the animal.
Suddenly, there was a rustling of brush to their left. It startled the deer, and it took off as Daryl pulled the trigger. The arrow grazed its back leg, but the deer bounded out of sight.
"Motherfucker," he swore, lowering his weapon. He turned his head toward the noise, ready to murder whatever it was that made him lose his kill. It didn't take him long to recognize the sound of shuffling feet on the leaves.
A pair of walkers approached them. They groaned as they shambled toward them, their arms stretched out in search of flesh. Daryl put a bolt between the eyes of a woman with half of her face missing. Her once-pristine sweater set and khakis were dark and dingy with blood and decay, and her body crunched against the stiff leaves as she hit the ground.
Tilly approached the other corpse and shoved the large man to the ground, landing on top of him. He managed to grab her right hand, the one that held her knife, and she struggled to get it free as he grabbed at her with his other mangled hand.
Daryl saw the struggle and rushed over to help, shoving the bolt he had removed from the female walker into the head of the one under Tilly. The grip of its hand weakened and Tilly shook it off, getting back onto her feet. She nodded at Daryl in gratitude, and then turned to scan the rest of the area.
She froze suddenly, her eyes growing wide and Daryl soon saw what had startled her. A herd of at least two dozen undead were walking toward them, their eyes locked on the pair.
"Too many," he whispered, grabbing her arm. "We gotta go."