A.N. - Woah, I missed a week, sorry guys. If it's any consolation all I'm doing besides work is writing. I have one other chapter going for FotW but then I might let it go for a bit so I can focus on some of the new fics I want to get started before the summer is over.

Happy Reading!

Chapter 37

He was a study in opposites.

Never in all of his life could he remember being so tired, eyes dry and scratching with every blink. However, with her hand in his, the trees stretching up around them, the ground giving and living under his feet, he felt more awake than seemed reasonably safe at the moment. Add to that dichotomy, the one that had his body feeling hollow, spent, torn all to shit, but at ease too, satiated down to his fucking core despite all that'd been done to him.

All that he'd done.

His mind wasn't immune to this new state either. It was probably the greatest contributor to it actually, alternately yowling and purring at him as he and Beth made their way through the area in search of some water. He was a broke-ass carousel, or on one, all the world spun around him, and his mind spun around the world in return. Every now and again he had to give the hand in his an extra squeeze, because the babbling thing in his head told him she wasn't actually there.

Made him a stomach wrenching kind of certain that his hand would close on open air, that one of these times he'd look over, and only find sunshine on glossy leaves meeting his sight. Depended more than he should have on her answering clench, on her soft smile each time he turned his head towards her in a moment of urgent distress. It was going to be a long fucking walk at his current rate. The worst part of it was that he was honestly trying to act at least a tad bit normal, wanted desperately (maybe too fuckin' desperately) to not worry her about how he was doing.

Stupid.

He knew she wasn't capable of being anything other than concerned when it came to him, because there was never going to be a day where he wasn't thinking about how she was doing. It'd been like that since before the first backrub or first kiss - figured with him - that it'd been the first blowout fight that'd done it. After that Beth had become so much more than some figurehead for home and hearth, some untouchable symbol of the world they'd been trying to keep a piece of. She'd become flesh and blood and fucking miraculous all in one screaming match that'd all but knocked him on his ass.

She was going to want to talk, for him to talk, and he didn't know how much time she was willing to grant him before that happened. Might give him a good long while to herd his thoughts into a certain manageable pen, might at any moment spring the conversation on him while they trekked along.

He'd hoped not acting like a crackhead would buy him more time, but he didn't seem capable.

The unbalance was just constantly picking at him, making him fidgety. He wanted to peel himself into pieces. Pick out the damaged and decayed bits that were poisoning the rest of him, but all that'd probably happen then, was him realizing how little remained that wasn't riddled with some sort of wrongness that wouldn't quit. The sleep deprivation didn't help, neither did the stabbing pain in his ribs, the dozen or so sites of deep bruising. None of that mattered as much as finding Beth something safe to drink and a place to wash if possible.

It'd be good to get the stink of sorrow and hatred off of him.

Be better still, to bring his girl any amount of relief that he could.

The tranquility around them was nice though. He'd apparently slaughtered anything within range, which would make him less twitchy when it came to cleaning up. They'd be taking turns anyhow with someone always on watch, but the lack of walkers was reassuring to see. The question filtered through the bleeding wounds of his mind, about how long they'd be at the camp before Jesus or one of theirs showed up to let them know what was going on. There was an odd sense of confliction there. It'd be good for Beth to see Maggie, especially since Daryl had been certain up until last night that the older Greene sister had died. Of course, he'd like to see everyone too…

At some point.

But right now?

A quick glance at Beth, her eyes up and watchful, one hand on her knife handle, moving almost as quietly as he did through the low foliage, and he felt some more of his pain ease. This was exactly what he needed. Not a lot of people, a lot of questions, curious eyes staring, or whispered things that were still too loud. Only his girl and the outdoors, enough room to breathe, enough time to feel her heartbeat tap a staccato rhythm against his palm while he...

The phantom sensation was all it took to bring on another knee buckling wave of want that literally tripped him, made him pull up short.

At her inquisitive frown he shook his head, adjusted himself without remotely trying to hide it, and searched around them for any signs of water. Listening intently, closing his eyes to the distracting amount of sensory input coming from Beth, he picked up the barest trickling noise from further down the hillside. Another bit of luck, another thing to distrust. It was never what it seemed, when everything started going his way, it struck him as singularly unrealistic given his prior life experience. Following the noise nonetheless, he and Beth picked their way down until a decently sized stream came into view.

Shallow and quick moving, it looked clean and clear to his eyes. The track it ran on was a muddy one though, and he stopped her when his girl went to let go of his hand. No way in fucking hell had they gone through all of what they had, just for her to get walker-bit in the calf now. Eyes scanning for a suitable tool, he motioned her toward a large branch, teeth gritting when he had to release his hold in order for her to heft it. Striding along the stream's edge, he found another sturdy enough piece of wood and met Beth's curious gaze.

Jabbing the branch into the fine silt and then looking back up at her, Daryl walked towards Beth while working the improvised walker-detector into a serpentine pattern. She made a surprised little oh face, before following suit and meeting him in the middle. It wasn't foolproof but at least he'd have some reassurance that a good chunk of the stream was safe for her to be in. Woman was grinning up at him, looking all proud of him and shit, like he'd done something praise worthy.

Kneeling down he cupped some of the water into his mouth, got a fair amount of grit with the liquid, but it tasted clean. They didn't have shit to hold it in, and definitely nothing to boil it in, so his skills in this department better not be lacking. They'd need to drink up now, make trips back a couple times a day, the situation wasn't one he'd like them to have to maintain for long. Beth crouched at his side, waiting for his nod, she took several careful swallows and sighed when the water hit her no doubt empty stomach.

In between gulps, he watched her fish out the sad bit of cloth from her pocket, tried to lax the constriction in his throat at how lovingly she washed it. Painstakingly rubbing the excess dirt and blood from the threadbare weave, she took such care with the damn thing, probably should've just burned it.

But he'd never tell her that.

And he'd never fucking dream of actually doing it.

When she seemed content with the progress she'd made, Beth offered him her arm, body twisting towards his with a peaceful little smile on her face as he secured the strip back where it belonged. He thought about chiding her goodnaturedly about her attachment to the band, but the sigh she gave was so pleased, that he couldn't quite bring himself to even open his mouth for the attempt.

After they had gotten all the water in them that they could, without making themselves sick, the two got to their feet and looked over the area once more. He felt relatively secure in their safety for the next little while, there was birdsong in the trees, general forest life going on around them. A usual sign that nothing was creeping around.

"I'll take first watch," she told him, going up on tiptoes to give him a quick kiss. Daryl could almost see her vibrating with her excitement at being able to wash off what could only be a day's worth of dirt, sweat, and...well come to think of it, guess he couldn't blame her for being excited. What with the mess he'd gone and made of her. "An' I'll try real hard to be the lookout too."

She winked at him.

Actually fucking winked while her smile spread wide across her face.

Fucking miracle.

His throat stuck together so that his derisive scoff came out as more of a choked cough.

"Ain't gonna be much to see," he said, pulling the strap of his bow over his head, handing it to her without a thought. "Here, don' worry 'bout wastin' arrows, at least that dickhead was good fer somethin'. Put ones that weren't splintered ta' shit in there."

She nodded happily, the promise of a bath no matter how cold clearly brightening her mood, and looked at him expectantly when he didn't continue to move. Hesitating for only a moment or so more, Daryl said to hell with it and ducked down to cover her mouth with his. It was meant to be a fast peck, a thank you, but his synapses fired off straight pleasure at the feeling, so he melded their lips together and stepped in closer. Her tongue prodded at the seam of his mouth until he shyly met it with his own. Control, like communication, was not in his wheelhouse at the moment, but thank Christ, Beth seemed to have enough for the both of them.

Daryl might have started the kiss but it was apparent within the first few liquid passes that she was the one dictating how it went. Every time his resolve to pull away snapped and he ended up diving hungrily in for more, she'd sway back just a little, reminding him without a sound that they'd come there to do something else. Plus it wasn't safe, the camp had proven itself defensible, but out here by the water was an unknown element where he didn't need to be losing his head at.

With a quick jerk he was able to break the kiss, close to panting when his eyes met hers, saw the largeness of her pupil, had to tip his head back just in order to breathe.

"You ok?" The sound of her voice didn't help, made his dick twitch in his pants, fingers flex with the urge to find her pulse point. Feel it beat out the melody of her life in order to make that damn babbling thing shut the fuck up for a minute. "Daryl?"

He nodded, throat stretched tight, his next swallow making it feel like his Adam's apple was about to split the hot skin that it harbored underneath.

The open button-up that was over his short sleeved shirt was slid down his shoulders along with his recently reacquired vest. There was a prickling on his lips, the backs of his eyes, the shivering muscles along his abdomen, as Beth slid patient hands under the shirt's hem, helped him get it all the way off. His neck hinged, chin almost hitting his sternum, eyes cracked back open to watch her business-like treatment of his pant's button and fly. Arms that felt like they each weighed more than his entire body came up to assist in getting the last couple layers down, only for them to both realize he was still wearing boots.

A quick flash of her blues on his, was the only warning he got before she was beginning to kneel and he had to shuffle backward like a fucking moron, barely avoiding a sudden meeting between the ground and his bare ass. He was so fucking hard that it hurt, shot pangs up into his stomach, as the damn hyperactive bastard bobbed in search of her. Unable to meet her eye, not due to any bashfulness or embarrassment, but instead a knowledge that if he did, all the warnings and reasons against going farther with her would be forgotten. The air wheezed out of him as he crouched, almost breaking the laces that took too long to be untied. Daryl left the haphazard pile where it landed once he'd pawed his way out of it.

Without a word or look he waded into the shallow water, choking on curses that climbed up his throat and swung like fuckin' Tarzan off his gag reflex. The bracing temperature of the stream was a level of reality that tried to rival his contact with Beth. And came real goddamn close, when the chilly motherfucker flowed over his balls and erection - redneck cold shower - he guessed now it was more like the post apocalyptic cold shower. The bitch was uncomfortable as all hell by whichever title it went by in any event.

Daryl kept his back to her, had to, just like he'd had to scramble away moments ago.

If he saw her, looking at him, wanting him...

Ain't enough cold water in all a' Virginia.

So he kept himself turned away and scrubbed his grime and oil covered skin until the shit somewhat resembled a pigment of color he was fairly sure to be his customary one. Scoured every damn inch of him, teeth gritted and the fractured part of him screaming that the pain wasn't nearly as much as he deserved.

But it was a start.

Felt like he all but dragged his exhausted ass from the water, limbs lead-lined and flesh feeling like one big abrasion. Tired eyes scanned the small bank for a sunny enough patch for him to stand and dry off in. Daryl busied himself with surveying the trees as Beth wordlessly disrobed and stepped into the stream. After that it was a trade off between doggedly running his sight along the shadowy places where man or walker could hide, and viciously rubbing sand against the stubborn blackened patches on his hands.

When the time came that he got to touch her again, he didn't want any restrictions or fuckin' stipulations. The action helped to keep him awake too, gaze alternating between the tree line and watching the persistent grains circle and disburse the unknown stains, leaving more of him red and raw. Had to keep Beth in his peripheral vision, never looked at her straight on, just flashes of ivory and the sounds of chattering teeth now and again.

Rinsing his hands a final time at the water's edge, he combed thick and deadened fingers through his hastily dunked hair. He yanked at any tangles, swaying minutely as he scooped up palmfuls of cold water to work through the places that it hadn't reached the first time around. Anything to keep his fucking lids from staying closed too long between blinks.

A weary thank you was sent up when Beth's form made its way to him.

Daryl struggled to his feet, wincing with each received or self-inflicted injury that clamored for his attention to be felt first. He rolled his shoulders and flexed the tight muscles in his back in an attempt to prepare his body for the climb back up to the clearing, clocking her mincing steps onto dry land. She stood a ways down from him, and even though he told himself not to, his eyes dragged over the ground to trip over her pale and shivering limbs that were dappled and splotched with the bruises he'd given her. Arms hugging and spine curving in on itself, the woman looked far less thrilled with her newfound cleanliness than she'd been about it going in.

For a couple stretched minutes she resolutely stood in the mid-morning sunlight and didn't return his gaze. But then a particularly hard shake wracked her body, and pleading blues flicked in his direction. It was a possibility, he supposed, for them to pull on their dirty clothes over their still wet bodies and deal with the inconvenience. Or, he could try to teeth-grit his way through keeping her warm, and then go about helping her beat some of the dirt from their clothes.

He jerked a nod and half a wave of his hand at her, and Beth hurried over with a murmur of thanks before wrapping icy arms around his barely-warmed torso. Daryl draped his own limbs around her back, hissing but refusing to let go when each of her freezing bits met all of his tender, heated ones. She wriggled into him, and he couldn't blame her, only huffed in derision as she slotted her body more firmly against his. Her head tucked under his chin, wet strands catching on his whiskers, hands chafing up and down his abused back fitfully, trying to friction her way into some warmth.

Fuck, he was tired.

He scrubbed his palms over winged shoulder blades, thumbs moving to make arcing passes over her ribs, fingertips sliding the length of her spine and back. Cold skin, taught with chill, not lifeless though, not quite. The moisture between their bodies was water, not blood, he hadn't lost her. Hadn't. Throat closing, he twined himself around her more fully, shoulders hunching to protect her from any wayward breezes. He all but hooked his chin over her shoulder, their ears clipping against one another. Cold skin. But it was whole, no rents or gaping wounds, the head that huddled next to his wasn't in pieces.

On cue, one of his hands snapped up to cradle her skull, the only give under his pressing fingertips was the bunching of her wet and snarled hair. Her own movements stopped, not good, he wanted her as writhing and loud as he could get her. Constant movement, constant sound, constant touch that was irrefutable proof that she was real.

That he hadn't been fucking some dead girl.

Jesus fuckin' Christ, Dixon. Where the hell did that come from?

His body was getting warmer, seemingly ramping up the temperature in order to pump it into her too cold one. Heat trickled down from a haggard heartbeat to his dick, and he couldn't do a thing to stop it. The hell was wrong with him? He knew he wasn't holding a dead body in his arms, knew his burgeoning hard-on didn't have anything to do with the idea that he was. But it was all too close together for his liking, made him feel goddamned depraved or some shit. Like he kept getting hard at the idea of her being dead, not alive, but he couldn't tell anymore, which part of him was telling him what.

Which part he could trust.

The babbling voice was his.

How long had it been this time? Twenty minutes or so, that he'd been able to act like he regularly would have? Was it always going to be this difficult? Or would his control only get worse, not better?

Beth's breathing was changing against him, becoming shallow, fingers digging into his back as she otherwise remained completely still - obviously aware of how the atmosphere had changed.

"Think it's time ta' talk yet?" she asked, breath whispering over his back.

About what had just been crawling through his mind?

Hell no.

His shaking head scratched along her bare shoulder, kissing an involuntary path, hands stroking down until they anchored in the giving muscle of her ass. Beth arched into him, humming in a way that made him understand what the sound had done to her all those times he'd made the noise. A small section of him was yelling about something, something to do with their location and why he hadn't been able to watch her while she was in the water.

Now, the only thing driving his focus, was to find the least prickly tree to boost her up against.

Wanted to feel her alive again, prove to himself that it was a mishmash of trauma and lack of sleep making his head think such weird and nasty shit. It wasn't him, not really, or it was, but he was just at the end of his rope. And that rope was a fucking noose. Hard to keep things straight, hard to get off the tilt-a-whirl, the carousel. Didn't wanna think about the cell, about the man with the bat, about imagining his baby dying inside her as she laid like so much roadkill while some fucker took a polaroid of what was left.

He wanted to go back to how it'd been.

Her smiling to see him waiting for her on the front porch, waking up in their bed with her as a pillow, or feeling her digging into his side as she changed positions for the fiftieth time that night. Sneaking kisses out by the fence, watching her track game, hearing her sing. But he'd take what they'd had last night and this morning, touching every inch of her and making it react and move for him, feeling her all around him until she was all he knew.

All the trees around them were goddamn pine, would grate her back to ribbons, give them a matching set of scarred over flesh. His arms were already burning anyway, but he didn't want to let her go yet. Beth pulled herself up his body, long legs wrapping around his waist, forearms braced across his trap muscles, lessening his work to keep her up considerably.

"Hey," she said, when he went to kiss her, he was still eyeing the area for a suitable tree. To not interrupt whatever she was going to say (or that's what he told himself) Daryl changed his target to her neck, moving his way to her water-slicked collarbone as she spoke. "We can't do this here, ya know that."

Did he?

He wasn't so sure anymore.

It was so much easier to focus on what his body could do for her, what it could feel instead of his head or that manic thing in his chest. He'd done right by her when it came to that, had felt it each time she'd came. Didn't know if he could say that for anything else though. Hadn't listened to her half as much as he should have. Hadn't been there for her when it mattered, not really, not every single time like she deserved.

He'd gotten her killed.

How was he supposed to atone for that?

Wasn't this the best way, maybe the only fuckin' way to start?

Hoisting her up some more, spreading her, he was attempting to get the angle right when her fingers dug into his neck. Close, he could feel the growing heat of her on his cockhead, and she'd see, he knew she would, once he was inside her. Just what kind of contrition he was trying to offer her with the last ounce of energy left in him. He was right at her entrance when the nails by his pulse point flexed enough to make him cringe and her voice bit out.

"Daryl." Not a good tone. He'd know that shit no matter what condition he was in. Didn't know exactly where to go from here, didn't want to put her down, but if he kept holding her like this she was bound to tongue lash him worse than his daddy's belt ever had. "It's not safe here."

Right. Right. He knew that, he did.

He'd only wanted to show her.

Easing her back onto her feet, Daryl successfully avoided meeting her eye by going and grabbing their clothes. Shaking each one out forcefully before gathering it up with the rest of the worn collection. Still keeping his eyes down, he handed Beth her items, jerking on each of his own without comment or hesitation. She was going to make him talk, and he'd tell her without being able to stop, and when she heard all the crap that was janky and only connected in a haphazard and nonsensical way, she was going to realize how fucked up the whole thing had made him.

Might not let him touch her anymore.

He'd scare her, disgust her, freak her out and not be able to stop.

She loved him, because she was maybe as crazy as he felt right now. What would that love make her do in reaction to hearing some of the things? He maybe didn't need to tell her the last bit, about the body thing, should keep that to himself. Was tired. So fucking tired, and it was swamping everything else, and if he could just rest maybe it would all stop being so awful.

They were both dressed and walking back towards camp when he came back to himself.

How the fuck did that happen?

She was holding onto his hand and there was something resolute but desperate in her constant pulling tug. Had he done something else? Said something else? Had she tried to talk to him and he hadn't responded? Towing him, she was towing him up the hillside, striding with a clear intent of getting them back to a neutral zone. Knife out, it looked like it was clean, so he hadn't flaked out and left her to fight on her own.

Though from the barest couple inches of her expression that he could see, girl would be more than willing to take care of business right now if she needed to.

He picked up his pace, begging his body to keep him upright for the time it took them to travel back to where they'd been. A decently safe place, surrounded by trip wires and noise makers, where he could get some rest. If his rabid brain would let him. Beth shot him a searching look when he caught up and walked beside her instead of slightly behind like he had been. Daryl was able to meet her gaze, if barely, and nodded to her unspoken question.

He was back, he was with her.

She could count on him.

There still weren't any walkers, and even though they both circled the campground looking for signs, there was no evidence of any other kind of visitors either. Getting back to their bedroll, Daryl finally released Beth's hand in order to shake the thing out, before carrying it near the first line of trees.

"Why're ya movin' it?"

He glanced over at her, tried hard to give her a smile, but he was pretty sure it came out a pained curve. "Yer paler than a' ghost." A hand waved to the general level of sunshine that infused the clearing. "Don't want ya overheatin', gettin' sunstroke or somethin'."

She was trying to read his mind he could tell, shouldn't, the thing was illegible right now.

Jesus had left a stash of dried goods in a lock box that he'd wedged into the downed log, and once Daryl had moved the bedding, that was his next stop. Beth watched him the entire time, staying next to the sleeping bag as she did so. He could feel it easily and it made him nervous through his exhaustion.

He split open a pack of crackers that were mostly all crushed, probably tasted like sawdust, and handed them to her. Any moment now she was going to ask him a question, direct him in some other way to spilling out all the stinking mass that was decomposing inside of him.

Unless it was something worse.

He'd been worried about scaring her with what he said. Had that happened already? They'd both sat down on the bedroll, Beth with her back resting against the pine they'd set up at, and were passing the cracker-dust back and forth. She was close to him but not as close as he felt she had sat by him in the past. Though, his depth perception might be off, everything was starting to look a little shiny, a little white rimmed and sparkling. She had to know though that he'd never have kept going, back at the stream, not after she'd told him to stop.

The next time she handed the package to him, Daryl cradled the back of her hand instead of plucking the food from her. Beth met his gaze, searching still, concern there even though she was trying not to let it show too much. Interest was evident, along with something heated that he was relieved to figure out wasn't anger.

No fear either.

He tried, to push out a sentiment, to speak silently to her like they'd done so many times.

But now more than ever, it wouldn't come.

Her brows knit when he exhaled loudly, but still she didn't ask. Didn't tell him to get talking, to let it out, to get on with it already.

To try.

No matter the hollow state of his stomach, he couldn't do it anymore. Pushing her hand gently he grabbed the bow he'd laid down nearby and handed it to her. She took it a little awkwardly trying to balance it and the food in her hands, technically he still had Rick's gun that he'd gotten off of Negan's man, but gunshots were the last thing they wanted. When she'd gotten it settled close by, he shocked the shit out of her by lying down with his head in her lap. Face away from her, he moved his too heavy head until it bumped against the reassuring rhythm of her breathing. Beth's hand lighted on his back and the shudder that hit was enough to curl him in on himself.

He could barely feel her through his vest, so it came off, her nails lightly tracing down his spine after the layer had been removed. She glided over his shoulder blades, traced patterns that intentionally or not were the same as his scars, and prodded muscles so tight they felt like just more bone under the skin. It was like his whole frame was deconstructing itself under that small moving focus. She'd press into his lats with a questioning pressure, and the tension would seep out. The shit kept trying to flow right out of his eyes. Her attention would migrate up to his neck, and Daryl had to reach and lay a heavy palm over her shin in order to keep his inhales from turning into sobs.

It'd been so long since they'd gotten a quiet moment, and some of that was his fault, and he didn't know if he had the means to explain to her what he'd gone through but he loved her so much.

He'd try, they said they would when this all started, and he'd keep trying.

"Didn' know it was fuckin' possible, hatin' myself more than I had 'fore the whole world went ta' hell." She paused, surprised probably, before continuing on her prior course. "Sittin' in that cell, only thing kept me from runnin' my head into the goddamn wall was rememberin' what ya told me."

Beth's hand stilled again, and he squeezed her shin to stop her from replying, needed to get whatever he could out first. Already didn't know what part of the Hell she wanted him to talk about, or if it was this new uncertain purgatory that had her curious.

"Ain't never got it 'til now, what it feels like, not wantin' t'survive another minute." His head rolled so he could breathe her in, get his heart to calm the fuck down in his chest. "So much shit, in m'head, what they done." Was he starting to not make sense? He couldn't stop, so he hoped she could string it together. "Showed me a picture, girl all smashed t'pieces, had your band an' I was already sure. Ya'd come to me, told me, thought ya had."

He was crying now, but there was no one to see but her, and she wouldn't hold it against him.

She knew how it was, to swear never to cry again, only to have the bastards spill out anyway.

"An' now, now I don'..." He should be careful with how he put this, but was too damn tired to police his words. If he'd wanted to do that, he should have done this earlier when there was still some strength left in him. "I tell m'self it's happenin' an' yer here, but I can' seem ta' fuckin' make that shit stick. Ya know? Each time I let ya go, it all…" His fingers wrapped more firmly around her leg, trying to get some semblance of control even as his eyelids refused to stay open.

Beth left off his back to curve a hand along his neck, skin on skin where he could feel her, the other hand going to his damp hair. Fingers carded through the strands, pulling it back from his face, unveiling him. And all he could do was try to stay awake and breathing.

"Doesn' seem real," he whispered, feeling her bend over him in order to hear. "Holdin' ya, fuckin' ya, hearin' yer voice. S'like any time now m'gonna wake up back in that room, an' you'll be gone all over again. Just fuckin' gone, an' the baby in ya, an' I know, was you, tol' Negan 'bout it but I don' give a' shit." His body had compressed down into a miserable heap, constricted his lungs until each pass of air was a nightmare in and of itself. "Swear I don', jus' don' leave me ag'in."

He was back in the cell, his eyes wouldn't open, she was only a force around him.

One he couldn't make stay no matter how much he begged.

"Didn' mean ta' get ya killed."

"Daryl."

Fuck, now he'd made her cry too. Something was shaking him, but he was a ridiculous level of tired, and so goddamn sad. Finally there was a stinging in his scalp and that something was hauling on his shoulder, turning his body by degrees. His eyes cracked open, but everything was blotched, watery colors that didn't make sense. Rapid blinking and a bit of a squint brought her into focus before her mouth was landing soft and sweet on top of his. Limbs too far gone to move, all he could do was open to her, let her have whatever part of him she wanted.

This slow assault was the most merciful abuse he'd ever known.

Lids stayed closed when she pulled back some, but he could still feel her, only inches above him.

"I'm not dead," she swore to him, voice low and insistent. "You saved me at Grady, I got you out of the Sanctuary. We made it, we're both here. I'll tell ya everyday if you need me to. I promise."

With a Herculean effort he rolled until his face buried itself in her abdomen, barely giving him space to breathe, but it was fucking perfect and he was grateful when she didn't attempt to move him. Her fingers danced over his hair and face, the other lying itself on his side, touching him as much as possible. He couldn't talk anymore, but she seemed alright with that, allowed him to cuddle up to her while she kept letting him know with each glide of her fingertips that she was still there.

That they had in fact made it.

And he swore to Christ he'd do a better job of making sure they kept it that way.

For as long as they could.

So there's that, drop a comment if you get a chance, thanks as always for reading!