So tell me to run
Or dare to sit and watch what we'll become

Once our papers came through, we were able to catch a ride from Denver to the Wyoming border on a truck that was carrying some letters and cargo and would be picking up items from Cheyanne. In Cheyanne, we had to wait a full day to have our paperwork processed, be interrogated by local officials, and then finally find a truck driver who was heading west, didn't have a full cargo load and was willing to take us for a price. The UN committee had given us items to trade, and tips on how to negotiate and reassure drivers that we weren't going to rob them, including official UN missives explaining that we had been thoroughly vetted.

From Cheyanne, we headed on back roads to Cokeville, at the border of Wyoming and Idaho. We spent another day at the border, convincing them to let us in, and eventually managed to walk across. We camped that night just outside a truck stop, taking turns standing guard, and found someone to take us as far as Boise.

Boise was bizarre - I'd been through it several times in the past and it was a bustling metropolis, but now it was practically deserted. There was a small cluster of stores and warehouses, guarded by some kind of militia, and an older woman informed us that most folks had moved away from the city after the bombings, afraid of being a target, and needing space to raise their own food.

It took another day to find a trucker who had room and could take us to Portland, and that final leg took two full days to drive because so many main roads and bridges had been damaged in the fires. When we finally reached the Portland harbor on the Columbia, it was dark and we had to find a place to make camp.

Portland had more people than Boise, but there were no cars on the streets, and the stores were almost all vacant. Lots of folks looked like they were squatting in abandoned houses, and the trucker we'd driven with told us we could use a house that was generally left empty for those driving the trade routes since he preferred to sleep in his truck.

Daryl had stayed by my side throughout the trip, but he hardly touched me and spoke very little. We all crashed in the living room but while everyone else passed out from exhaustion, my brain raced and I couldn't relax. We planned to walk to my little town from Portland, which would take most of the next day, but at the end of it, I would get to hug and kiss my kids, and see the faces I'd missed every day for almost two years.

I felt jittery with nerves, and I quietly left the living room and wandered the rest of the house, drifting through the rooms and trying to calm my mind. I was in one of the bedrooms upstairs, looking at the moon and pressing my face to the cold glass when I sensed someone behind me and turned to find Daryl in the doorway.

"Sorry", I murmured. "I didn't mean to wake you, I just couldn't sleep."

"Didn' wake me", he said quietly. We stared at each other across the room, and all the anxiety that had been building since the helicopter landed in the prison yard bubbled up inside me, pushing on my lungs and twisting my stomach. "Daryl, please," I whispered, tears welling up in my eyes. "Please don't do this. We've survived so much, and now when we're almost through it, you're letting go. I miss you. I don't want to do this without you. Please."

Tears were spilling down my face, and Daryl looked away, his shoulders tense. I was suddenly furious, and crossed the small room toward him, grabbing his shirt. "You don't get to shut me out!" I hissed. "Maybe you don't feel this the way I do, and maybe it's not worth all the trouble to you, but you don't get to just end this without ever saying anything! If you're giving up, you at least owe me an explanation."

That finally got a reaction from him. He jerked my hands off his shirt and shoved me back against the wall. "I don't owe you a damn thing," he said in a low voice. "It's not my fault ya feel the way ya do, and I ain't gonna apologize for bein' realistic. You can live in yer little fantasy land, but ya can't drag me along. I was doin' jus fine before you showed up, and if ya go back to yer husband and yer perfect little life, I'll be fine then too. You were a nice fuck for a while, and that's enough for me."

I slapped him across the face, shocking us both. "Fuck you, Daryl Dixon," I gritted out, twisting to get out from where he had me pinned against the wall. His grip tightened, and then he was kissing me hard enough to bruise my mouth, pressing me against the wall. I gasped and bit down on his lip in response, then sucked the bite, tasting the sharp tang of blood. His hand wrapped around my hair and pulled, hard, and I arched my neck back with a small cry, pulling his hips against me harder. He'd never been this rough, and I knew his frustration was part of it, but I needed it like this. I was angry too, and frustrated at my inability to fix things, and I wanted some pain with the pleasure.

Daryl ripped the neckline of my worn t-shirt, pulling it down my shoulder, and scraped his teeth along my collarbone. I dug my nails into his scalp and he groaned, picking me up and carrying me to the worn mattress on the floor. He tore open the rest of my shirt and pinched my nipples, tugging painfully and then soothing them with his tongue. I pushed his shirt up and he yanked it over his head, then tugged off my sleep shorts, and shoved two fingers deep inside me.

"Ya shouldn' like it like this" he growled at me. "Y'shouldn' be soppin' wet when I'm rough enough to leave marks on ya." I arched my back and moaned when he bit down on my shoulder. "Not gonna apologize for what I like," I said breathlessly, and he bit down harder.

"Fine," Daryl gritted out. "Don' cry to me about it tomorrow then." He pulled himself off of me and jerked me into a sitting position. "On all fours" he growled, and I obeyed. He ran his hands up my thighs and over my ass, and then gripped my hips tightly, and impaled himself in me so deeply that he bumped my cervix and I swallowed a yelp. He set a rough, frantic pace, slamming into me hard with every thrust, so tears stung my eyes.

Every slap of his thighs against mine brought a wave of pleasure edged in pain, and I felt my walls tightening around him, though I tried to hold off the orgasm. I was still pissed and didn't want to give him the satisfaction of making me come so quickly, but I couldn't stop it. I clenched around him and cried out as spasms of intense euphoria spiraled through me, and he finished a second later, jerking me up until I was seated in his lap, his cock still buried inside me.

His hands slid up my body until he cupped my breasts, and dropped his head into the crook of my neck and shoulder, breathing heavily. I reached up and laced my fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp gently and shuddering with the last waves of my climax.

Daryl pulled us down to lie on the mattress, sweaty and still breathing hard, and we passed out without talking about what had just happened, or any of the other issues between us. I was pretty sure some small part of it had been worked through, but I was too tired to think about it any more that night.

I woke up in the grey light of very early morning to find Daryl kissing the spot on my shoulder where he'd bitten hard enough to leave bruises and teeth marks that even broke the skin in a couple of spots, just to the right of his tattoo. His eyes met mine and I could see the apology lurking there, but I shook my head. "Feels good when you lick it," I murmured, and his expression cleared.

"Hmmm. Feel good when I lick this too?" he rasped against my skin, flicking his tongue over the faint purple-red marks on my hips where he'd held me so tightly. I nodded, noting the soreness between my legs and wanting more. "Anything else hurt?" he asked knowingly, and I lifted my hips toward him wordlessly.

He kissed inside my thighs and then gently parted my folds and ran his tongue along my slit, soothing and arousing me all at once. He used his tongue to make me come, then slowly fucked me with his fingers while I worked through my orgasm and he lowered his head again. "Daryl," I said breathlessly, tugging at his hair until he looked up at me. "Please. I want you inside me." He shook his head. "Jus' wanna make you feel good," he said, but I tugged him toward me until he relented, and crawled up my body, gently sucking my sore nipples into his mouth before kissing me deeply and sliding himself into me.

I knew this was his apology, not for the rough sex, but for what he'd said the night before. It also felt like it might be a goodbye, and I couldn't let that be it. I tried to prolong it as long as I could, but I felt myself approaching the edge of another climax, and I found his lips so we could swallow each other's gasps as we came.

I knew the others would be awake soon, if they weren't already, and I didn't have much time so I held him in place before he could roll off of me. "I love you," I said, gripping his arms tightly and holding his gaze. "And it's deeper and more real than anything I had . . . before. I don't want to lose you, even if it's hard for a while. Please promise you'll try."

Daryl swallowed hard and then nodded. "I won' leave without talkin' to ya first," he said, and I knew that was as much as he could give me.