The city was a shock to my senses. The smell of burning bodies at the camp had been bad, but Atlanta was literally a graveyard of rotting corpses and I had to breathe slowly through my mouth to stop my stomach from retching. We wove our way through piles of bodies and left staggering walkers behind us, reaching futilely toward the vehicles. When we arrived at the CDC, it looked like the military had executed hundreds of people and left them in the street. I couldn't imagine what it was like to be there when everything fell apart and thanked whoever was listening once again that I'd broken down near Daryl's trailer.

Dr. Jenner didn't have any news for me about what was happening in the rest of the country. I peppered him with questions as he drew my blood, but he said he'd lost contact shortly after the electricity went out and he had to switch to a generator. Cell towers had run on generators for a while, but at some point, they'd gone too, as had internet providers. The last he'd heard, some folks in the midwest and north had decided the government was making the whole thing up as a way to get rid of conservatives in the south and were starting to riot. I hoped Oregon hadn't been affected too much by that but was reassured that he hadn't heard about the infection spreading rapidly outside the south.

We made our way to the dining hall where we had the first big meal in ages, and I finally began to relax. The wine helped, and I realized I hadn't had a drink since I left Oregon. Daryl, nursing a bottle of Southern Comfort watched me savor the wine and nodded toward the bottle. "That fancy enough for ya Princess?"

Glenn, who had already downed several glasses, looked curiously at us. "She owns a winery," Daryl told him, with a roll of his eyes, more talkative than I'd ever seen him. "This one rolls up to my shitty trailer in a busted Mercedes, wearin' heels and a fancy suit, and then spends the next four fuckin' days talkin' nonstop to her family in their big ass fancy house in wine country. She's prob'ly too good for this shit but she's got manners so she ain't gonna say anything, ain't that right?"

I couldn't tell if Daryl was teasing me in a good-natured way, or if it was supposed to be cutting, and I wasn't sure he knew either. I swished the wine in my mouth as dramatically as possible before swallowing, holding his gaze. "Classic cabernet, lots of black fruit, fairly balanced tannins, but I do prefer a more delicate Oregon pinot noir," I said in a mock-serious tone. Glenn giggled, drunk off his ass already. "Seriously? You own a winery and drive a Mercedes?"

"No!" I said, "I mean, my husband's family owns a winery, which he runs, not me, and that Mercedes was a rental. But I was wearing a suit and heels at the time and it probably looked pretty ridiculous."

I smiled at Daryl, thinking about what must have run through his head when I met him, and he gave me the closest he got to a grin and tipped the bottle back to his lips. "Yer ass ain't so fancy now Princess." I took a sip of my wine too. "Smaller though," I said with a smile. "This whole apocalypse thing beats a workout at the gym," which gave Glenn the giggles again.

We were all at least a little tipsy by the time we stumbled back to our rooms, despite Dr. Jenner's grim story about his fellow doctors. After weeks of camping, the hot showers felt incredible. I washed what felt like layers of dirt off of me and dried my hair with a towel while looking in the mirror for the first time since we left the trailer. I wasn't kidding about the smaller ass - I'd definitely gotten into better shape over the past month of backpacking and survival.

While eating very little and tromping around the woods all day did wonders for the physique, I couldn't say the same for my hair. I usually kept it shoulder length but I hadn't gotten it cut for a while before my trip and it was down well past my shoulders now, and ragged on the edges. The walker I'd tangled with had yanked at it hard enough to break off some strands, and I could see a few gray hairs peeking through the blonde when I looked closely. I felt like I'd lived an entire lifetime in the past three weeks; no wonder I was going gray. My eyes looked tired and my face was thinner and getting more tan than I'd ever been before from the constant sun.

I took my time drying my hair and dressing in clean clothes, but eventually, I found myself with a slight buzz, sitting on the narrow couch with nothing to do. I felt completely safe for the first time in ages, and actually craving company, which wasn't normal for someone so introverted. I wandered the corridors and bumped into Daryl, who was opening the door to his room. "Hey there," I said as I leaned against the doorpost and focused on the top button of his shirt, which was at eye level. "Hey yerself," he replied, stepping around me to enter his room as I trailed behind him.

"You know," I began somewhat defensively, "I'm not a snob." Daryl snorted. "Sure," he said, "yer poor folk just like me, that it? Ya drive a shitty pickup mosta the time?"

"No," I replied evenly. "I'm not saying that but I grew up in a big family without much money and I'm down to earth, and while I've learned how to fit in with the whole winery crowd, I don't particularly like most of them. I do court-appointed work, so I'm not making the big bucks, and I spend all my time with clients who are really struggling, so I'm not like some rich girl who doesn't understand what the world is like. That's all. I just . . . didn't know what you meant when you said that to Glenn."

Daryl stepped closer and I had to raise my head to meet his eyes. "I didn' mean nothin', 'cept what I said. You were a fancy-ass princess and now you ain't. Ain't a bad thing. Jus' need to learn to use a damn knife and a gun to protect yerself, and then when all this is over you'll go back to yer fancy life again."

But I had wrapped my arms around him tightly at the mention of this nightmare ending, and he tentatively brought his arms around me for a second and let me breathe him in. "I'm glad I found you, Daryl Dixon," I murmured into his shirt. He dropped his hands and stepped back, jerking his head toward the door. "Yer drunk. Get some sleep."

I stepped into the hall but leaned back to poke my head in the door. "I'm not drunk, Daryl. And you're a good guy, whether you want to be or not." With that, I went back to my room to get my first night of restful sleep in a long time.