As I'd predicted, Daryl was strictly no-touching in public, even just around our family. Part of it was probably practicality; we were never entirely out of danger, and we had to stay focused to keep things safe and functioning. But at 9:00 every night we weren't on watch, it was like he flipped a switch, and couldn't keep his hands off me.

I'd never been particularly obsessed with sex, barring the normal teenage hormones, but I couldn't get enough now. Daryl was a dominant lover, surprisingly confident and assertive, and I found that it elicited a strong response in me. I pushed back against dominating people in every other area of life, especially from men, but I trusted Daryl on a level I'd never experienced before and found it freeing to completely give over control within the limited context of sex.

He didn't really explain his perspective, but I assumed that he needed an area in which he did have complete control, since much of his life had been dictated by circumstance or by folks who expected him to go along with them. Even Rick, who trusted Daryl and valued his counsel, made most of the final decisions regarding the group. If Daryl really objected, Rick would likely bend to his will but the relationship put Rick in the public leadership role and Daryl as his wingman. I think Daryl preferred this, not wanting everyone to look to him for answers all the time, but he also needed an area where he was completely in charge and my body was the perfect answer.

It was also freeing to be with someone who seemed to like me exactly the way I was, despite the fact that we didn't get enough showers, didn't have time or resources to shave or wax regularly, and couldn't go to a salon for haircuts, color, etc. I'd come in sweaty from working in the garden, and sometimes Daryl would eye the beads of moisture I was wiping from my brow and tell me quietly not to shower before coming to bed. He liked the smell and taste of clean sweat, better than when I was freshly scrubbed and smelling of soap.

He didn't avoid the scars on my temple and breast or the inside of my thighs or the faint stretch marks on my abdomen leftover from pregnancy, but he didn't dwell on them either. I felt more myself and less self-conscious naked with him than I ever had before in my life, even when I was young and my skin unmarked.

For his part, Daryl seemed comfortable with his own body, and I delighted in exploring it. He was all hard lines and firm muscle, and I found myself wanting to run my hands under his shirt, along his abs, every time I looked at him. He didn't want to discuss the scars on his back, but he trusted me enough not to hide them, and I could live with that.

He explained that Merle had a couple of kids he'd abandoned, and Daryl had decided that there shouldn't be any more Dixons as fathers, so he'd gotten a vasectomy when he was 30 to make sure he never got anyone pregnant. It was a little shocking, but I knew Daryl's father was the one who had given him most of his scars, and that the thought of being a father himself must have been terrifying. And for us, it made things much easier since condoms were hard to come by and most of the women's periods were very irregular due to malnutrition so fertility was hard to predict. I decided to think of it as a blessing for the time we were in, rather than something tragic.

About a week after we'd moved into this new phase of our relationship, I found myself reorganizing the kitchen cupboards while I did the week's inventory before bed. I didn't trust just anyone to make the list of needed supplies for runs, and almost always did it myself. I didn't want someone to forget something important, but I also didn't want them asking for anything frivolous and risking someone's life for a non-necessity.

I was up on a step-stool, going through the highest cabinets when I heard the kitchen door open and close behind me, and I turned around, expecting to find Carol who often helped me with the task. Instead, Ben stood there, awkwardly watching me and preparing to talk about something I was pretty sure I wanted to avoid.

"Hey, I'm kind of in the middle of this," I began, but he cut me off. "I know, but I haven't had a chance to get you alone in days, and I really need to say this," he said.

"I wasn't trying to push you into anything before, I promise. I truly thought you were interested in discussing some of the culture and experiences we had in common, and I just wanted someone to talk to."

I nodded, beginning to feel the familiar twisting in my stomach as I processed the fact that we were alone, and he stood between me and the door.

"It's fine Ben, really. I need to go," I said in a rush, taking a step to the side to get by him. He stepped in my way and held out his hand. "No, seriously, don't go. Look, if you aren't interested in some kind of relationship, I get it. But I think you're intelligent and interesting and . . . "

Ben continued, but I was getting tunnel vision, and having a hard time breathing, and I tuned him out. I tried to calm my racing heart, but a stabbing pain ran through my chest, and I heard my breath stutter as I stepped away from Ben until my lower back hit the counter behind me. He walked forward, hand outstretched, with a look of concern on his face but I slid to the ground and pulled my knees in front of me, burying my head in my arms.

I couldn't get a full breath now, and black spots were starting to appear in my vision, so I squeezed my eyes shut. I could feel waves of nausea washing over me and didn't know if I was going to throw up or faint when another voice joined Ben's, and I felt Carol's cool hands on my neck, smoothing down over my shoulders. I tried to focus on her soothing words but I couldn't slow my breathing and shaking. All I could think of was the Governor standing over me while his guard pulled my arms back and searing pain shot like fire through my body, and then blood, brain matter oozing on the floor, and Daryl.

Daryl. Daryl. I tried to focus on his face in my head, but it kept slipping away. Carol was shouting now and Ben was talking too, and then a rough hand slid behind my back and another around my neck, and Daryl's gruff voice broke through my cycling thoughts.

"Hey, yer okay. Yer right here in the kitchen, and yer okay. I'm here, Carol is here, and no one's gonna hurt you. Come on baby, breathe." His voice seeped into my thoughts and my chest stopped clenching. I took in a shuddering deep breath and then another one, and finally opened my eyes to see him kneeling on the floor in front of me.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I just . . . he was in front of the door and I tried to leave but then I couldn't breathe." Daryl's eyes hardened and he looked behind him where Ben was hovering nervously. "You better get the fuck outta here NOW," he growled, and Ben disappeared through the door. Herschel hobbled through a few seconds later and made his way over to me.

I had gotten my breathing back to normal and was mortified about what had happened. "Herschel, I'm so sorry, you didn't have to come all the way in here. I'm okay now, I just was caught off guard. I couldn't remember how to calm myself down fast enough, and I feel like an idiot."

Herschel squeezed my shoulder. "Don't ever apologize for being human, sweetheart. When you've been through trauma like you have, the brain has to protect itself when it feels threatened. These panic attacks are to be expected, and the only thing that'll make them stop is time and working through what happened. I think you're doin' pretty well with the second part of that, so just be patient with yourself."

Daryl had shifted to sit beside me against the cabinets, and I leaned into him heavily. Herschel took my pulse and had me take some more deep breaths, and then straightened up. "You'll be okay. Just get a good night's sleep and you'll be good as new in the mornin'."

Daryl pulled me to my feet and looked down at me intently. "You okay to walk?" he asked, and I nodded. "Yeah, just a little shaky."

We left the kitchen, and the dining area was mercifully deserted. We made our way to our cell block and up the stairs, where Carol gave me a hug and told me she'd cover for my breakfast duties.

I curled up on the bed as soon as we got into the cell, and turned toward the wall, tears sliding down my face. I could feel Daryl hovering a little behind me, before eventually slipping off his shoes and sitting down on the bed. He put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed gently. "Y'okay? I don' have to stay if you want to be alone."

I shook my head without looking at him. "No, don't leave please," I choked out, and he stretched out next to me, and wrapped an arm around my torso, pulling me slightly toward him. I rolled toward him, burying my face in his shirt, unable to stop crying. He didn't say anything, just let me soak his shirt with tears and rubbed my back until I eventually fell asleep.