This scene... this scene that is coming up has been written for literally a YEAR. Just. Enjoy!

Newest warning: Major character death!

Instrumental Destruction

After that, things... well, Glen was hesitant to call anything normal, but it was certainly not as insane as it had been. With walls, people relaxed, stupidly, but with good reason. This was the safest place they'd been in months, after all. A few of the houses had had hidden Walkers; people who had failed at committing suicide, locked doors and starvation winning in the end, but it was still a sight better than anywhere else.

Around this time was when Andrea and Amy had finally seen fit to come clean about their seclusion. To Glen at least.

"I'm sorry... could you repeat what you just said," Glen asked, and she wasn't proud to admit she was shocked silly.

Both of them were pregnant.

It was just the three of them. Amy had planned it that way. Invited her up to their room for a night-cap, except neither of them drank anything. In fact, they just looked at her, like they were both about to vomit. Glen narrowed her eyes and waited for the bomb to drop, fiddling with her cup.

"We're pregnant." Amy announced again.

Glen looked between Amy's exhausted blue eyes to Andrea's pale skin. They were waiting for her to respond. And who was Glen if not someone who responded exactly as people expected her to?

"How far along?"

"Uhm... maybe four months?"

Andrea piped up then. "Seventeen weeks... I did the math."

So after the apocalypse. Way, way after. It was clear that they'd known about this for a while. Did they ever think about termination? Glen wondered, looking at them. Were they too far along when they pieced together the puzzle? Had they even considered it? Glen didn't know - and she honestly didn't have any idea of what was safe with pregnancies. And, well, this made everything pretty clear -

"Fucking hell," Glen said, leaning her head against her hand. "Shane? Both of you with that piece of shit?"

Amy smiled, nervously. "Hey, now. That's our baby-daddy you're talking about."

There was no heat to it. She was probably just as pissed at Shane as they both always were.

Glen looked between them again.

"Fucking hell." She repeated. "Fuck. Who else knows?"

Amy shifted, and now that Glen was paying attention she'd seemed to have gained a little weight. A rarity, an anomaly. How hadn't she seen this before? Sure, she had to actively look at their stomachs to see a bump, but she couldn't have been that unobservant... could she have?

"Just you." Amy confirmed her worst fears.

Oh that was not going to go.

"Alright, lets go," Glen said, rising to her feet as she knocked back her meager shot of alcohol.

"What?" Andrea was suddenly way more animated than Glen had seen all week. All month. "Were not going anywhere."

Glen glared at her. Unimpressed. She'd been hiding a pregnancy for who knows how long. Well, okay, fine fifteen weeks, but she meant it more as how long had they known and said nothing!

"We're going to talk to Herschel," She told them. Not backing down. "He's the closest thing we have to a doctor. And since you two are too bone headed to understand that being pregnant is going to suck seven different ways to sunday, on top of actively trying to survive when we have no clue what the fuck is coming our way - you're coming with me."

Andrea stared at her, eyes wide, still afraid.

Glen didn't get why, not until Amy asked.

"You won't tell Shane... will you?"

Ah. Yeah. No . Shane could go fuck himself for all she cared. And she said as much.

Which made Andrea relax, and by extension, Amy.

"Alright, but we gotta keep this quiet, alright?"

Glen wanted to snap that there was no way they were going to be keeping anything quiet in a few months, with two squalling babies or in a few weeks when they started showing, but she kept her mouth - wisely - shut. Glen had a temper with the best of them, but even she knew when yelling and snarling worked. She also knew when it didn't work.

Leading them out into the hallway, she managed to corner Herschel by himself and lead them all into a room to talk. Away from prying ears, to Andrea's relief.

Hershel was just as shocked as Glen had been, but was quick to ask questions and assess the situation. Amy and Andrea answered what they could, and promised to keep better track of themselves for the old man who looked shocked with everything they had answered with. It all went over Glen's head, but it seemed pretty serious. The vet then told them what kind of vitamins and prenatals they needed to get. What exactly needed to be scouted for.

Glen sat in the corner, listened, and wished she was anywhere else.

That night, she had curled up with Daryl and told him everything. He didn't speak a word until she was done.

"If it was going to be anyone, it would be fucking Shane." He said.

Glen grinned in the darkness.

Then, after that drama, everything was quiet. Until the next time, when it wasn't. Surprisingly, at least to Glen, it lasted a long, long time. Almost two months.

"We're running low on supplies." Herschel reminded everyone one day. Glen, Maggie, and Maeve were the only ones awake and in the kitchen. The girls all looked to the older man.

He'd started talking out of the blue about a month ago, with enough time in between the secret-pregnancy announcement that it was clear that hadn't been the catalyst, and Glen honestly missed the quiet. Fondly she recalled when the only response she could get out of the man was a grunt. Now all he seemed to do was talk. Talk and offer advice and stick his nose into things that were already set in stone.

It made Beth and Maggie happy, at least.

"We've been low for a while now," Glen nodded, exhausted. And it was true. Their crops were meager, and they canned nearly all of it. But fresh produce brought a smile to anyone's face.

She had it on good authority, as well, that scouts were also looking for chickens.

Daryl and she had been going to scout what they could, read-between-the-lines every day, but they didn't want to waste resources to go farther than necessary. The loss of the horses at the farm had really been the worst thing now that Glen considered it. Because all horses required was food to move, whereas cars required gasoline. One was much easier to find than the other now-a-days. It was a standing order to bring a horse in if they could.

... Really any farm animal. Hell. Glen would kiss a goose if they found one.

"Daryl and I have exhausted every house around us. We've stripped it all." Glen continued, sipping her cooling tea. "We're going to have to go farther."

Which meant danger. Which meant uncertainty. Which meant possible death.

Then again, what didn't these days?

"... Any chance we can finally go back to the farm?" Maggie asked.

Glen opened her mouth to protest, before shutting it firmly.

Wait.

It had been almost three months, the chance of the farm being clear was miniscule. Even after all this time. It had been overrun. The Walkers throng had been thick and fast moving. The farm had been completely overrun in a matter of minutes... but if it was... If it was safe.

It was their best bet.

"You want to take that chance?" Glen asked instead.

Herschel protested immediately but Maggie straightened.

"You can't - "

"Yes."

Glen ignored Herschel, because she usually did, and stared at Maggie.

"You want to go it alone?"

Maggie snorted. "I'm not an idiot. I'll take... T-Dawg."

Glen raised a brow, not seeing the appeal but nodded. Beth would have been better. She knew how to be quiet. A valuable, valuable skill to have. Amy or Andrea would have been better, but seeing as they were both about twenty-three weeks pregnant... no dice.

Which... well that was still not something fun to think about. Two women pregnant, about halfway through their pregnancies. Both showing . If anybody cared to look closer, which nearly everyone did. It was the worst kept secret in the house. And Glen was pretty sure Rick and Shane did more than share a room. Not that she cared. If she did, she would have figured out what exactly their relationship was.

As it was, Rick had been apart of too many love-triangles for her to want to unearth another one.

"It's all you then."

Glen then proceeded to go back to her tea, acting oblivious to the glaring between father and daughter. Like they did every day. Maeve joined her, wearily watching what could be a brewing fight between the two.

To say that their life was better was an understatement, but to say that it was completely better... was a stretch. Glen felt, and believed Daryl felt as well, that the longer they stayed within the walls, the safer they felt, the dumber they all got.

Glen had only really seen growth, be it in strength or courage or loyalty or any number of things, happen when everyone was feeling the pressure to succeed and to grow. Without the danger and the push, they all just kind of sat around and did what was needed but no more.

It was aggravating. Especially Andrea and Amy. Glen had had high hopes for the both of them and was actually getting along with the older woman, before everything had gone to shit. When the farm had been overrun, and then Amy's mysterious illness that cleared up but never really went away, both the woman had become secretive and quiet, especially around Shane and Herschel. Which lead to one simple thing; neither of them being in Glen's good book. Not even the pregnancy reveal had been enough to not piss Glen off.

In fact, there were only three people in Glen's good book. Beth, Rick, and Carol. The children were irrelevant in her displeasure of the adults, because they were precious little cinnamon rolls too good for this world. Carol and Rick were not on her poop list for the simple fact that they didn't aggravate her or ask stupid questions every day. They also were not complete idiots to talk to. Nor had either of them kissed her without her permission.

Yes, Shane was on her shitlist. And he had been for the past month and a half.

Beth was in her good graces specifically because she wasn't in her families. The girl had grown . Not in stature or height or anything, but she was not what Glen had first assumed she was. And that was a little girl who needed to be protected. She still looked the part. What with big blue eyes, delicate features, and blond cornhusk hair.

Yet she wasn't.

She was an exploding star, with all the trappings of someone who should have been protected but simply wasn't. And that created the creature she was now. Smiles and sunshine all while she knew four ways to gut you and cause the least amount of pain, because no matter how much she had changed, she still was kind.

And that, alone, was mind blowing for Glen to recognize.

Bruce and Beth were in the next door house, on kid duty. Carol and Rick only had a few houses left to go through (a self assigned task of taking everything useful from houses) and since the place was safe, everyone felt fine leaving their 'future' in the hands of Bruce, who everyone had basically written off.

The kids were both reading, leaving Bruce and Beth to either join in or talk.

They did a little of both.

Shane walked in to them talking about how to castrate a cow. Bruce looking pale as Beth described in detail the final bits. And Shane promptly walked back out.

The day, in all, had been pretty simple. Daryl always rose at least an hour before anyone else and returned in the same way. Maggie and T-Dawg returned after only making it a few minutes down the road, encountering a small hoard. So that had been a bust. Rick and Carol had found more sheets, kitchen ware, and a large bag of rice (something they had overlooked the first time).

"We need something to turn up." Shane said, aggravated as they all laid out how the day had gone. "The farms a bust. The houses are a bust. We need to send out a search party."

"Cause those work so well." Glen said, sarcastically, chin in hand.

"It's necessary, Glen." Shane said, glaring.

"I agree." Rick said.

"You're only agreeing because we saved your ass on our last and only group outing." Glen snarled at Rick.

"... Wait, that had been the only time you guys had gone out as a group?"

Glen rolled her eyes, nodding. "We usually go in twos. I have no clue who thought five was a good idea. Probably Shane."

The man in question frowned, but didn't deny it. It had been a while since anyone had thought on that disaster. It probably had been his fault for demanding so many people be in Glen's party. Nobody honestly remembered. Glen couldn't remember past the pain of Merle's loss.

She shoved those emotions away to live with Doug's face.

"Huh. I really was an idiot." Shane said after a moment.

"Yup." Glen responded easily enough.

"Completely." Daryl added, meaningfully.

"What about those warehouses on the north side," Maeve said, suddenly.

Glen frowned, trying to recall why they'd nixed them in the first place. "What about them?"

The blonde rolled her eyes - Why had so many blonde people survived and managed to get into her group? Glen wondered - "They're probably chalk full of surprises. Food. Supplies. The whole kit and caboodle."

Glen still couldn't for her life recall why they'd nixed them in the first place. She asked the group as much.

"Too far away." Shane said.

"Walker Horde in front." T-Dawg muttered.

Beth frowned severely and offered. "Too high risk?"

Glen frowned. Walkers made sense, but too far away? Huh.

"Alright, how many should go?"

Maeve was quick to jump in. "I say five. Or six. We need drivers and help transporting, if we do find anything. This could be a big haul."

Bruce and Maeve had been with their group for nearly two months. If they were going to betray them, this was a long con. Glen cocked her head and thought. Looking around at the hopeful faces, Glen drummed her fingers on the table-top. Everyone was holding their breath. This would be the biggest outing since... well, since forever. Glen wasn't immune to everyone's excitement.

"Scout first. Hit next," She told them. "I'll go with someone to check it out. Then we'll talk about it."

Energy was high as Daryl and Glen left the next day. The warehouses were about two hours away, walking, so they left at first light, not wanting to waste a second. They drove, but they knew anything could happen, and leaving a car with half a tank of gas wasn't too bad of a loss. It was their first outing in almost two weeks, though.

"Think there will be anything?" Glen asked as Daryl drove.

He grunted.

Alright, no talking then. Got it loud and clear . Glen could respect that. She already respected the man above just about anyone else, alive, anyway.

The drive was silent. Glen watching the passing scenery calmly. It was peaceful. Serene. Yet, those woods, housed monsters. Walkers. Biters. Geeks. Whatever anyone wanted to call them. Glen wasn't about to complain because every single name fit. Walking Dead, she mused to herself, quietly, as they passed a few bodies on the side of the road.

"How far along are they?" Daryl asked, suddenly.

"Hmm?"

"Andrea." He said, his voice all gruff and not-used. "Amy."

"Ahh. Ya noticed, huh?"

Glen remembered telling him, but they didn't talk about it. It wasn't an immediate concern.

He gave her a look. "They look like they swallowed a cantaloupe. Each."

Which was true, but they were also carrying their babies pretty low (if that was the word). Glen had seen pregnant, fluffy women, but neither Amy nor Andrea fit that description. Their faces had filled a little, their joints swollen, but their bumps had stayed small and hidden. It helped that they had taken to wearing sports-bras, oversized t-shirts with the sleeves cut off. So their stomachs were never on display.

"They're like... five months along, I think."

Daryl gave her a startled look. "They're more than halfway-done?"

Glen was intrigued. Why the sudden interrogation? This was the most Daryl had said in one sitting since their time at the barn, when they'd... well. Glen didn't have a word for what they'd done. Cemented each other in their lives?

So Glen just nodded.

"... Shane huh." He muttered to himself. "Fucking idjit."

Privately, she agreed, but didn't want to interrupt this sudden talking fit. So she just nodded.

But it seemed that was all she was going to get. So Glen tried to think of something to get him to continue talking.

"You pissed they didn't use protection... or something else?"

Daryl didn't look at her. Just tightened his hands on the steering wheel.

"Stupid of them."

Was all he said.

"I agree," Glen nodded. "But then again, I think everyone's stupid."

His lips quirked and his hands unclenched. "Not me, though?"

Glen resolutely look forward, but her lips twitched. "Never," She couldn't help but comment.

From there, they didn't speak another word.

That night after they'd given their report (yes, it was safe enough, minimal Walkers. Tons of trucks, too, that they could take that might even already be loaded. It was a-go. They just needed to plan a little) they laid in bed. Neither of them feeling sleep ready to take them.

Glen's mind was still on what they had talked about. Daryl still didn't seem settled. And they'd just exhausted themselves over the warehouses.

"What's really bothering you about Amy and Andrea?" She said, her brain-to-mouth filter not working.

Daryl was silent. For a whole minute he didn't say anything.

"That they can just... have a kid. No questions. No thinking. Just," He huffed through his nose, an angry sound. He made an abortive motion with his arm, before turning to her. She scooted up on the pillow so they were eye to eye, front to front, curled away from each other to talk.

"I get it," Glen said, and suddenly she did. "It's fucked up they can make such a huge mistake and we all have to deal with it. That we're gonna have to deal with two babies when we can barely manage us... That some people are gonna blame the kids."

Daryl didn't nod, but his mouth tightened, the skin around his eyes tightened. He was pissed.

Glen reached forward, he fingers smoothing over his wrinkled skin. It didn't budge under her fingertips, but Daryl didn't seem to want comfort. He just wanted to be angry. Glen could let him have that.

"I was a mistake, you know," Glen said, scootching over an inch. "It wasn't really talked about. My parents... They already had two kids. For them... that was enough. I was just," She smiled sardonically. " Extra ."

Nobody had made it a point to make her feel that way in her family, but it was clear. To her. To anyone watching. To anyone not in the know. The cold shoulder. The dismissiveness. The anger when she'd not lived up to 'expectations'. The calm but easy way she was forgotten, or forgiven (which was sometimes worse), or left alone.

"My pa was a drunk," Daryl said, suddenly, reaching one arm out to pull her closer to him. Glen went willingly. "Ma went to jail for something. When she got out... she just never came back. It was just Merle and me. For as long as I can remember, it was just the two of us."

Glen nodded, their foreheads pressing against each other. She slipped one arm in between the pillow and his neck, hugging him forward. He in turn tightened his arms around her, tugging her flush against his chest. They'd done this tons of times. This wasn't anything special. This was... this was comfort.

Physical intimacy. Who would have thought this was how they'd comfort each other? The two people who would rather stand back, glare, aloof as the world burned around them. Nobody would believe that they could have this without sex. But both of them knew differently.

Sex complicated things. Just look at Amy and Andrea.

"We'll be alright." Glen said, as she got comfortable enough to sleep.

She felt Daryl smirk against her shoulder. Then he murmured, "Just look at who's extra now."

Huffing a chuckle, ignoring that emptiness in her chest reserved for 'family', Glen kissed his temple. Both settled in.

Tomorrow was going to be a long day.

The group ended up being pretty large, over half of their group going. Carol, Hershel, Amy, and Beth stayed with the kids, Shane their protection - but everyone else packed up a scouting-bag. Glen tried to glare Andrea into not coming, but she snarled that she was fine , and that she could do this , and she wouldn't be a liability . Glen believed her less and less the more she talked. Still, stupid is as stupid does. So she rolled her eyes, but allowed the pregnant one to ride next to T-Dawg, who Glen was sure had figured out that Andrea was pregnant at least.

Everyone piled into one catering van, with Maeve driving and Daryl taking shotgun.

It was silent the entire ride. The plan already outlined that morning at breakfast.

All that was left was execution.

A handful of decapitated and stabbed Walkers later, Glen was beginning to see the pros to working in a large group that actually worked together. Nearly everyone knew their jobs, didn't pull punches, and were silent to boot. Glen wanted to cry with how well they were all managing.

The only time they talked was when they were deciding what to take. Bruce and Andrea had gone to check which of the trucks were already full. It ended up being two of the bigger ones, a smaller semi, and then crate upon crate in the warehouse. Dividing and conquering was their best best.

"Food," Glen pointed to Andrea, Bruce, T-Dawg, and Maeve. "Daryl, Rick, and I will see if we can tag things for pickup later."

"Exit plan?" T-Dawg asked.

He never failed to specify their exit-strategy. It was one thing Glen could count on him for.

"Rick will take the truck in dock B, Andrea will take the other one. The smaller one we can leave for when we come back at another time. The rest of us will pack up the van and meet up at home."

The word tickled her mouth, and Glen grimaced.

Home. Ew.

Everything went just fine. Everyone looking for food, Rick and Andrea taking a moment to check the cabs for keys (for an easy getaway). Rick's truck had a key, Andrea's didn't. T-Dawg said he'd hot-wire it, but in an emergency, Bruce could.

With a couple tons of food at their disposal, along with a variety of other things they'd found, Glen was feeling better than she had all week. This was a win. A clear, cut win. She even smiled, breathed deep, and tried to take it all in strides. Not choke on the heady feeling of a job well done.

Which is, of course, when things went seven-different ways to hell.

Glen promised herself, later, much much later, that she would never again count her chickens before they hatched.

There was a loud bang and everyone froze in place before jolting into action. Twisting every which way to see where the echoing noise had come from. It was a big warehouse, but they had scouted and closed exits and barred themselves in. Confusion set in a moment later as a rope snapped and everyone heard the sound of air whistling and hitting a large object as it fell. A whistle that was cut short a moment later with a crack .

Andrea screamed, and then that was cut short. Followed by a sound that echoed suspiciously like a splat.

Everyone had the same thought - Walkers .

They all booked it.

"Fuck!" Someone shouted, hoarse.

Glen, wide-eyed, ran around the corner to see Bruce standing next to a fallen rifle staring at a piano that was absolutely destroyed. Smashed into itty bitty pieces. There were ropes all around it too, so Glen quickly deduced that it had fallen from the pulley-system it had been set into. Glen was short, so she wasn't often looking up. Now she wished she had.

A set of legs and arms were poking out of the rubble, with a good sizable puddle of blood growing at their feet.

"What the hell did you do, Bruce?" Glen demanded, knowing that it was all his fault instinctively.

The big guy just stood, staring at the strange sight as if it wasn't real.

"I didn't mean to." He sounded dazed, confused, conflicted.

Daryl rounded the corner next, with Rick in tow. Both sliding to a stop and staring quizzically at the scene in front of them. Maeve coming out of a stack of crates a moment after.

"Didn't mean to what?" Glen asked getting closer to the carnage. "Kill a bunch of-"

It clicked like a broken bone in Glen's mind.

It hit her that the arms sticking out of the piano did not match the legs. Dark skinned with feminine jeaned legs. Like -

"Where's Andrea and T-Dawg?"

Oh hell.

"I didn't mean to." Bruce repeated.

Glen couldn't imagine what she had missed. Nothing came to mind. A piano. T-Dawg. Andrea.

"What the hell happened?" Glen demanded, and her voice was a lot smaller than she thought it should be.

"I - I dropped the gun," Bruce stuttered slack-jawed and wide-eyed. "It went off, and then the piano fell from the sky. And Andrea and T-Dawg were under it and now -" His voice warbled and tears formed in the corner of his eyes. "Now they're dead!"

Glen stared. Then stared some more. Her mind tried to put two and two together but was drawing a blank. The big ginger blubbered for all he was worth. It was annoying,Glen thought dispassionately. Everything was annoying. Well. Actually, no not everything. Glen stepped closer and got a good look at the carnage. Bruce's choked crying echoed in the big warehouse. The only sound.

And then, it wasn't. Then the silence, or lack thereof considering Bruce's crying, was shattered.

Laughter bubbled out.

Everyone looked at Glen like she was crazy, but she couldn't stop.

"You killed - snort - T-dawg and - hahahaha! - Andrea with a- with a piano?" She asked between laughing fits.

Glen was doubled over, clutching her stomach as she let out a belly laugh.

There was no love lost for T-dawg, everyone knew that because of Merle, but Andrea - Everyone assumed she didn't have any beef with. Which was true. Rick and Maeve watched her wearily, confused and worried. Daryl just re-slung his crossbow over his shoulder. Glen didn't notice any of them. Lost as she was in her own mind and the picture in front of her.

The fact that a piano (A PIANO!), out of everything in this wacked out, horrible, bloody world had killed them? Not the undead? Not a rabid dog? Not the flu? Not those random ass-people who had attacked them?

A damn piano?

It was like something out of a movie. Glen knew it. She deserved a good laugh at that. Everyone did.

They just weren't taking the opportunity for what it was.

Wasn't Glen's problem.

"She's cracked." Rick said, staring at what was sticking out of the piano. The remains of their group.

He felt ill. Crouching down next to them, he set a hand on Andrea's rapidly cooling arm. She had died quickly, probably not even feeling it. Blood soaked the ground around them all. Sticking to everything. It was still spreading too, and if Rick didn't move, it would soak his boots...

He didn't move.

Maeve had corralled Bruce away from the hysterical Glen and was trying to calm him down. Where Glen was laughing, Bruce was crying. And crying a lot. He shook from the sobs as he collapsed into Maeve's arms, against the wall. She shushed him, and pet his hair, eyes far away.

"Maybe," Daryl said, walking towards the piano and kicking T-Dawgs arm. A little harder than what curiosity demanded. The limb rolled away as if it had been severed clean off. "Maybe we're the crazy one's."

Rick didn't think so. "Oh yeah?"

"Piano falls from the sky. Straight out of some cartoon," Daryl elaborated, repositioned his crossbow over his shoulder. " 'is funny. If it wasn't real life - everyone'd be laughing."

Glen now sat on the ground, tears streaming down her face as she laughed, arms hugging her stomach as the once joyous sound turned into sobs, but she still had a smile on her face. Rick was plenty freaked out by it all, but didn't dare go over and try to comfort her.

That was Daryl's job, if he wanted it.

Daryl went to her.

Rick left what was left of the Dixon squad to their insanity and went to have a moment to himself. Alone in a corner where he could lament the lives of the man who had become as close to him as anyone else in the camp and the girl who had kept Shane sane, when they'd been in a relationship, anyway...

Shit. What were they going to tell Amy? What were they going to tell Shane?

Glen didn't stop laughing for what seemed like hours. Her ribs hurt from the forcefulness her laughter had taken from her. She had no more liquid to expelled from her body through her eyes and overall she just felt exhausted. Curled around herself, she just stared at the bloody piano that had just taken their group down a few pegs in the world. Once they were twelve, now they were ten.

No. That wasn't right. Andrea had been pregnant. They could have been thirteen.

Daryl sat down next to her in a crouch.

"A piano." She mused, a touch darker than she had all during the entire escapade.

"Ain't too bad a way to go."

"But a piano, Daryl."

"Yeah. Alright. It's a bad way to go."

"I die like that, you have to laugh," Glen told him, solemnly, grabbing his jacket lapels. "Got it?"

And that was when Daryl realized. In that moment, in that strangely long second, that he loved Glen. When she turned something as tragic and as hopeless as senseless death into a joke. When she looked at him, trusting that no matter what came out of his mouth, it would be as good a promise as any.

"Got it." With lips twitching, he crossed his heart.

Glen reached out, her hand covering his over his heart. The thumping soothing to them both. They were close. Then again, they often were. But this... this was an intimate, side-by-side closeness, something that he hadn't yet experienced outside the bedroom. Something new. He smiled softly, just for a second, at Glen. How was it that she always managed to surprise him? How was it she always managed to make him realize things about himself that nobody else could? That nobody else could ever know?

"A piano," She muttered, her eyes still glittering, rimmed red. She leaned her forehead against his shoulder. "A damn fucking piano."

The time for humor had passed her, it seemed. Daryl curled his free arm around her shoulders, bringing her closer, nearly into his lap. The mood quickly turned from tragic and somewhat humorous and also karmic to serious. Glen was always serious with him, even when she was amused or sad. Or depressive. Or numb. It was what he appreciated. Her level headedness and ability to delegate.

"What the fuck am I going to tell Amy?"