I wish to know
The fatal flaw that makes you long to be
Magnificently cursed

Winter pressed on, and there were no more signs of helicopters or any other outside presence. I thought about the previous winter often, when we were huddled in storage units or abandoned houses, and I'd felt distant from everyone else. So much had changed - and we had changed so much - that it seemed like a lifetime ago.

These days we had meager rations, but enough to sustain us and the satisfaction of knowing we'd put aside enough to last the winter. We had fences and walls to keep walkers out, lanterns for light, and warm blankets and fires to heat the space. And I had Daryl, wrapped around me in the dark, keeping the nightmares and the cold away.

Not that everything was wonderful, or that the danger was ever far away. One section of the outer fence had been weakening, despite our efforts to keep walkers off of it, and Daryl and Rick were shoring it up as much as possible, worrying about a breach. Several folks had coughs or the sniffles, and I was doling out elderberry syrup to boost everyone's immune system. A run went badly one day, and we lost Axle and a couple of Woodbury folks that Carol had gotten close to. But in a world as violent as the one we inhabited, things were relatively stable.

We weren't sure of the exact date, but we knew when it was about Christmas because the length of the days grew so short. I had been thinking about it a lot, and how much it used to absorb our lives. All the parties, presents, rich food, celebrations of family and love. It seemed both trite and beautiful, something from another era that I missed but couldn't see the point in trying to recreate.

It must have been on my mind more than I thought, however, because as I was going through my herb stores, Herschel walked in and smiled at me. "I love that song," he said, and I realized I'd been singing O Come, O Come Emmanuel softly to myself. I laughed self-consciously. "I hadn't even realized I was doing it, but that one was always my favorite," I admitted.

Herschel sat down heavily on the chair across the table and sighed. "I've been thinkin' about Christmas too. Wish we could do somethin' for the kids, but it could never be what they remember." I nodded.

"Maybe next year," I said hopefully. "If we think of it earlier and can put together a little gift or something." Herschel nodded. "Hard to think that far ahead," he said thoughtfully. "I have to admit, when I heard there was a helicopter, I wondered how long we'd be here."

I began to gather up my things, sorting them back into their boxes. "I'm not getting my hopes up," I said firmly. "We have to assume we'll be here for the time being, and make sure we're prepared for what's coming in the spring."

Herschel steepled his fingers and looked at me as I packed up. "Probably a good idea," he said finally, "but don't lose hope that this will end someday. You'll need to be prepared for that too, and a journey back to your family through whatever is out there."

I swallowed hard, not allowing myself to think too much about seeing my kids and family again. "I can't, Herschel. I can't think about it too much. It hurts." He nodded and patted my hand. "I'm sorry sweetheart. I'll keep hoping for you, and you just take care of planning the spring garden, okay?"

I smiled gratefully and finished putting away my things so I could help the laundry crew wash the woolen items that needed extra care. Christmas or not, the work never stopped, and I couldn't either.

I lay draped across Daryl's chest that night, boneless and sleepy after two intense orgasms. "I think it's Christmas, or close," I whispered, not sure if he was asleep. He hummed in agreement but didn't speak.

"What did you used to do for Christmas?" I asked, bracing myself for him to shut me down. Daryl still rarely shared about his past, and I knew most of it was depressing, but I was genuinely curious if there were any nice holiday memories or traditions he'd want to revive someday.

"Not much," he murmured after a few minutes of tense silence. "Santa Claus didn't exactly visit our house. My ol' man would get drunk, no diff'rent than any other night. Sometimes worse than other nights. But once," he shifted his hand to run it through my hair absently, "my ma waited until he passed out in his chair, and then took me to the store and let me pick out whatever I wanted to eat. I grabbed one of every candy bar I could see and ate all of 'em that night so my pa wouldn' see what we did when he woke up. Was sick as a dog later, but it was worth it."

The story was sad, but I could tell Daryl was smiling at the memory. "You loved your mom," I said, praying again that he wouldn't shut me out. His hand stilled but he just took a deep breath and turned his head to press a kiss to my forehead. "Yeah," he said quietly. "She wasn' strong like you, didn' know how ta fix our life, but she cared."

I rolled over onto my stomach and looked at him fully in the dim light from the corridor. "Do you think there's anything . . . after this life?" We'd never discussed religion, though Daryl didn't seem the type, but I'd been struggling with my childhood faith since long before the plague started and was suddenly curious.

Daryl looked at me with an unreadable expression, chewing on his lip. "Dunno," he finally said. "I used ta think there was a heaven that she was in, lookin' down on me or some shit like that, but I don' think that now. Does it matter?"

I shook my head. "No, not really, I was just curious. I think I believe in something more than just us, but I'm not sure what. It used to be the all-knowing, all-powerful Christian God, but now it's just this vague sense that there's . . . something else. Sometimes I miss the certainty of that young and naive person I was growing up, who thought the world was this beautiful precious thing that had been carefully designed."

"Never had that," Daryl said gruffly, "never saw much more than ugliness growin' up, other than a few things. Nice teacher, one year, that tried to help. Some lady befriended my ma for a while and brought me a bike. That one Christmas. But once she was gone, it was just all ugly unless I was in the woods. I believed in heaven just 'cuz I wanted to think my ma was still somewhere, but I never saw any evidence of some loving God."

"I had a client," I began, suddenly struck by the memory, "who was this 14-year-old boy who had been in 12 placements in two years, if you count his stays in juvie. I met with him at his new foster home and asked if he thought it would be a good fit and he just looked at me and said 'I don't think there's anything good in the entire world Miss' and he was being completely sincere. His whole life was ugliness and he had zero hope for anything else. I cried all the way home at the way the system had failed him."

"What system?" Daryl said, suddenly angry, pushing himself up on his elbows to stare me down. "I never saw no 'system' except the one that carted my brother off to juvie when he started doin' exactly what my old man did every night. You think you can help kids by bein' a part a that fuckin' mess? You visit that kid and then head home to yer nice house and fancy car and kids who aren't all fucked up, and feel like ya did somethin' good?"

I sat up, pulling the sheets around me. "No, I didn't think I did something good that day. That was a bad day, and I failed that kid. We all did. There were good stories too though, kids who got help and ended up okay. Or parents that got the treatment they needed, pulled their life back together and could parent safely. You're right, it is a fucking mess but with the right help -"

"With the right help, my childhood coulda been sunshine and daisies?" Daryl exploded, standing up and pulling on his clothes and boots. "Bullshit. The last thing I needed was some shitty social worker lawyer cryin' over my pathetic life. An' I really don' need it right now so stay the fuck outta my head." He grabbed his coat and stormed out of the cell leaving me stunned at the way the conversation had turned.

I sat for a moment processing, and then slowly got dressed. I knew Daryl would need to cool off before talking anymore, but I couldn't let him stew for too long and get more pissed. I was pretty sure he'd gone outside, so I bundled up and headed out. It was snowing very lightly, and the ground was covered in a thin layer of white so it wasn't hard to spot him, standing at the edge of the courtyard and looking at the frozen yard.

I knew he heard me coming, but he didn't walk away or yell, so I took that as a good sign. I stepped up next to him and looked out over the moonlit snow toward the dark forest. "I don't think of you as one of those kids, Daryl," I said softly. "You're the strongest person I know, and everything we go through just seems to make you better, rather than wearing you down like the rest of us."

Daryl exhaled sharply and I could see his breath in the cold air. "Ya don' feel sorry for what a shitty life I had?"

I took my time answering, not wanting to say the wrong thing. "I mean, of course I wish you had a better childhood. How could I not? But . . . I don't know, somehow it made you into who you are, and I'm in love with you -" the words slipped out before I could stop them, and hung there in the freezing air between us.

Daryl turned, slowly, and looked at me in the moonlight. My eyes were wide and I had pressed my fingers to my lips; it was obvious that I hadn't intended to say that. "I'm sorry" I whispered frantically. "I wasn't planning to . . . I didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable with . . . shit." I scrubbed my hands over my face. "Can we just start over and pretend that didn't happen?"

Daryl slowly shook his head and my heart sank. I backed away and leaned against the prison wall out of the wind. "Okay. So now what?" I asked anxiously. He was still staring at me, clouds of white vapor escaping through his lips as he breathed, and then slowly walked toward me. I looked up at his face when he got close and realized he wasn't angry or embarrassed - he was amused.

"Are you . . . laughing at me?" I asked incredulously and an actual smile spread across his face. "I've never seen ya that uncomfortable talkin' about feelings," he said. "What'd ya think I was gonna do, run inta the woods?"

I blushed, completely caught off guard by his response. "Well, I don't know, maybe? It's not like you love mushy stuff, and usually you shut me down if I'm being sappy. I thought you'd be weird about it."

"I think I mighta been, if ya hadn't looked so funny after ya blurted it out," Daryl admitted, and I rolled my eyes. "Glad I'm so amusing," I said huffily, but he was wrapping his arms around me, kissing me with freezing cold lips, and I pressed myself against him, seeking his heat. He lifted me up to wrap my legs around him, deepening the kiss, and we heard a wolf whistle from the guard tower where I was pretty sure Rick and Michonne were on watch. Daryl flipped them off without breaking the kiss, and then set me gently down and pushed me toward the door, warmth, and bed.