Disclaimer: Nope, not mine.

Caught

A lifetime had passed since Atlanta. The crowd that had pinned all their hopes onto a mysterious voice over the radio and climbed into boxcars and open top cargo cars had dropped down to about twenty-five people, not including Kenny's original crew. Maybe ten had left that first night, risking outside rather than Kenny's weird, industrial kingdom. Another fifteen or so trickled out under daylight over the first few weeks, unashamed of their decision.

Daryl knew because he kept count. At first, he did it to always know the odds, to know what he was up against. Then, he counted because he found himself responsible for feeding people.

The sun was just brightening the sky when he had left Genesis. On his way out, Daryl had passed a little plot of land that had been plowed and planted. Judging from the fledging plants, they may get tomatoes and corn in a few weeks. He had computed a mental calculation of people and food. Conclusion reached, he had set his hunting goal for the day.

The numbers gave him a headache. He waded further into the open field, a few kills bouncing on his back. Out here, it was mostly turkey, rabbit, and groundhog. No matter how fruitful his hunts were, nearly all the meat was consumed that same night. The one time he had brought back a deer, pride straightening his slouch, Kenny turned into jerky.

By now, everyone added their extra supplies into a local pantry. Jonathan's wife, Laura, had taken to doing inventory there, Carol with her. People still kept personal items, but canned goods or juice boxes were beginning to stack up in the small room. Just last week, Double Rod had taken the train out and returned at sunset with cars full of canned goods. Kenny told him they were stocking up for the inevitable winter and that they needed to focus on eating fresh while they could.

Daryl nestled down in a new spot with the acknowledgement, "More proof he's in it for the long game."

Just yesterday he had eaten an egg for the first time since the start of the apocalypse. Laura had suggested finding chickens and her husband took her idea and ran with it. Literally. With nothing but a gun and a party of two other men, Jonathan ran to the nearest farm. Daryl had snickered at their incompetency and recklessness until he tasted the first batch of scrambled eggs. He begrudgingly kept his annoyance to himself, but he noted the haughty grin Jonathan wore upon his return.

Strange how the man had turned providing into a competition.

Daryl snorted to himself. "He's the only one who thinks of it that way."

Regardless, the little coop was now home to five of the birds. The tricky part was keeping the birds hidden and far enough away from the walls so their clucking wouldn't attract the dead.

Despite all the change and turmoil, there were days when he was out in the field that it felt like a dream. With his crossbow cocked, zeroed in on the prey, Daryl could be anywhere. His uncle's farm or Georgia state game lands. Except he's not. It's the end of the world. The extra bit of his awareness he used to save for identifying bird calls now listened for the walking dead. He kept waking up in a train yard hundreds of miles from Atlanta pretending to be a husband and a father.

Daryl had gotten used to waking up to Carol's soft snores in the closet. She and the girl still slept in the smaller room, but after asking him about it, she had transformed the larger office space into a decent apartment. Under the large windows there was a small, two person table that they had squeezed a third chair around. The old file cabinets had been repurposed into dressers; all their clothing fit in eight drawers, leaving room for shoes and accessories.

She'd done all the reorganizing humming an old tune he had nearly recognized. Sitting at the table, he caught himself tapping his foot while admiring the red scarf tied around her head and the soothing sound of her voice. At one point she beamed at him as if expecting him to join in the song. He had wanted to kiss her then. The urge caught him off guard so he had bolted with nothing but a mumble about some task.

It hadn't been the first time; he'd thought about it often since the night she massage his sore shoulder. He wondered if he had said something then or made a move if it would have worked out in his favor. He also wondered if he had lost brain cells, thinking Carol would actually want to kiss him.

Despite his insecurity, the attraction remained and intensified. If daydreaming wasn't bad enough, the real dreams that filled his night had him waking up flushed and very thankful they slept in separate rooms. It would have been easy to write it off as nothing; it was the apocalypse after all and even before the world fell, he hadn't found release with a woman in a long time.

Except, there always was a tug in his heart alongside the physical arousal.

The grasses stirred, shaking Daryl from his musings. Crouching, he raised his crossbow and waited. A second later, a rabbit hopped its last as a bolt pinned it dead. Daryl added it to his collection. He stroked the two rabbits and a fat groundhog. With a final glance out over the green field, he nodded and made his return to the rail yard.

From the back the complex looked idealistic. Detailed brickwork around the corners and windows hinted at its initial importance and grandeur. Out front the weaving railroad tracks and abandoned vehicles made it look like a wasteland. Two families had taken up in old sleeper cars, and the one of the wives offered to teach classes to the kids. That's where Sophia spent most of her time. Daryl thought it was good for her to have that regularity.

Smoke was coming from the kitchen chimney when he knocked on the door. Samantha answered, her dark curls tied up high on her head.

"Another groundhog, Daryl?" She took the kills with a fake grimace.

"There ain't no deer," he said back, knowing she would make the best of it regardless.

"I guess it'll take more time for more of the deer to come back. Groundhog stew it is, then." She shrugged, taking it in stride.

He left the kitchen fully intending to take the rest of the day off.

"Maybe Carol wouldn't mind rubbing my shoulder again," he mused as the offending joint cracked. Then, thinking of her petite frame, he added, "Maybe she'll let me massage that shoulder of her's..."

Those thoughts had become more common too, the desire to touch her skin or just to be close enough to feel the warmth of her body. Odd, because he never wanted to be near nobody before; he could barely stand his own brother most of the time. Every time he tried to nip the thoughts in the bud, they persisted like weeds. He couldn't just shake them away anymore. Ever since he had committed to staying and she had expressed her desire for him to stay, the feelings had only grown.

Merle probably would have laughed and told him he was so starved for affection, he was taking crumbs and mistaking them for a feast. Before he jumped on a train and left all he knew behind, Daryl would have believed his brother. But as he rounded a corner and spied Carol teaching Sophia how to hold a knife, an easy smile came to him. These days, he wasn't so sure he would have agreed with Merle.

He too good at reading people and himself to make such a mistake.

Carol had that red scarf wrapped around her head to keep the sweat from her eyes. She confidently adjusted her daughter's grip, explained why it should be done one way or another. Daryl crossed his arms in the shade and listened to her repeat his guidance. He smirked, Sophia was an attentive student.

After a few moments he said, "Lookin' pretty good over there."

Carol beamed at him and then her daughter. "We were just finishing up. Sophia's getting the hang of it!"

He took it as an invitation and joined them in the sun. Carol kneeled and buckled a sheath around Sophia's waist. The girl picked at it, uncertain.

"It's too big," Sophia said. The sheath sagged even on the smallest belt loop.

"Give it here," Daryl said, drawing his knife.

He punched a couple extra holes into the belt and then handed it back to Carol. There was a lot of extra length on the tail, but at least it wouldn't fall off the girl's hips. Which was about as good as it would get. No way the girl was strong enough yet to punch through bone. In a few years, maybe.

"It's a good idea ta get used to havin' it on, but next time I'm out I'll look for a smaller belt."

"Thank you." Carol touched his wrist. A sudden breeze raced across the ground and up through her hair. The image of her windblown, freckled, and content made Daryl want to kill Ed all over again.

"Ain't no thing. Doin' good work over here." He nodded once at Sophia. "No kid o' mine wouldn't know how to use a knife."

Carol's eyebrows shot up. "No. I suppose not."

He cleared his throat and gestured to the girl. "Alright, Sophia, show me whatcha got."

She pulled her hair back into a ponytail before drawing her knife. She radiated confidence when the sheath didn't fall over her hips. Weapon raised, Sophia showed off what she had learned. The girl had decent technique and good footwork. He made only minor corrections.

"Soon enough I'll be striking the dead, dead!" Sophia huffed.

"Hopefully you won't need to though for a long time," Carol said.

"Come on, Mama." The kid then turned her hopeful gaze to Daryl. "Tell her I'm ready, Daryl!"

With two sets of piercing stares focused on him, Daryl raised his hands in defense. "You're looking good, but I'm gonna hafta agree with yer Mom on this one, kiddo."

"Thank you," Carol said.

Sophia sheathed her knife with a frown. "Boo, you're no fun."

He and Carol shared a chuckle as a shadow approached.

"Hey, Daryl! It's been awhile." Jonathan loudly announced his presence. He had his shirt rolled up past his elbows and was coated in dust.

Daryl's good-humored mood darkened. "Yeah, it has."

"Still doing errands for Kenny?"

Daryl nodded. He'd been grateful for it too. While the beers were nice, it was a reward in of itself to not have to work with the other men around the yard.

"That's what Carol said." Jonathan beamed and winked. "That's the entire reason I volunteered to get those chickens. I was jealous of all that beer!"

Already exhausted by the conversation, Daryl stuffed his hands into his pockets.

Thankfully, Carol stepped up beside him. She looped her grasp around his elbow and said, "I, for one, am so glad for those chickens."

"Well, you're very welcome. But I didn't come over here to get thanked. I actually need a favor." Jonathan pointed at Daryl. "Daryl, we could really use you back on the wall. Those bricks won't place themselves. Are you free?"

The little squeeze Carol gave him had just enough pressure to be a warning; Jonathan had brought this up before.

Knowing full well that his schedule was empty Daryl said, "I'll hafta ask Kenny."

"Don't worry. I already asked your boss and he said it was cool."

Trapped, Daryl relented. "Alright then."

Jonathan clapped. "Great! We're making great progress. Maybe Kenny will have something for us when we are done."

"Yeah," Daryl agreed.

Conversation complete, the four of them stood there in the aftermath of fading chuckles. Instead of leaving, Jonathan took a half step back and rubbed his chin.

"Is there something else?" Carol asked.

Frowning, Jonathan glanced between Sophia and Carol and then slowly made his way back to Daryl. "Are you really teaching your daughter how to use a knife? You wouldn't even let me help stab the dead the other day!"

Daryl stiffened. Simultaneously, Carol and Sophia came to his defense.

"I can do it!" Sophia declared.

"It was my idea, actually," Carol said.

Jonathan had the decency to laugh and back off. "My apologies. It's just so safe here. Why bother?"

"The world's shit outside. Better ta be safe than sorry," Daryl said, finding his voice with a little supportive nod from Carol.

"My thoughts exactly," Carol said. "It's nice here, but you never know."

Relenting, Jonathan shrugged. "I guess you're right. Well, anyway, I better get going." He patted his stomach. "Gotta fuel up for this afternoon! I'll see you at the wall, Daryl."

Once Jonathan had turned and left, Daryl exhaled loudly. Grimacing, he said, "He's fuckin'-sorry, Sophia-nosey."

"He is. He's a lot of things." Carol rolled her eyes. She slipped her hand up from his elbow and circled up his bicep. "Maybe I can tire him out with stories from my high school reunions at lunch."

Daryl returned the eye roll. "Good luck. That guy will never tire of yappin'."

"I'll do my best though. Why don't you take lunch in our room? Put off the time you'll spend with him." She pulled on him, just a little, and kissed his cheek.

"Y-yeah. Good idea."

His face was hot long after she had walked off with Sophia. Daryl touched his cheek and allowed himself to hope that it meant something more than just another part of their act.

Even from a distance, Daryl could identify Jonathan by his boisterous gestures. The man was jovial in his movements and charismatic in his speech. It made the hair on the back of Daryl's neck stand up. He couldn't say why exactly. Buried jealousy that he'd never command people that way? Annoyance because surely anyone that nice had to be hiding something?

He discarded each possibility. More likely, Jonathan just reminded him of the pricks in high school. Popular, good looking, smooth talkers.

"Daryl!" Jonathan greeted him with a gleaming grin that immediately set him on edge. "Your wife just entertained us with tales of your trip to Erie."

Stupidly, he stared back while sweat pooled at his lower back. Whenever they had to disclose details about their past, he and Carol would review them together that night. They cross-checked and quizzed each other about their fabricated past life. It was a junky system, but thankfully Daryl was good at remembering details.

It had worked.

Until now.

"I went to school there," Jonathan prattled on, either ignoring Daryl's blank look or throwing him a bone.

Daryl cleared his throat. "I don't remember much about that trip. Nice town though."

"You don't remember your last vacation?" Jonathan laughed. "I can't stop dreaming about the lobster I ate on our trip to Maine last year."

Jules piped in about roller coasters or some other bullshit. Daryl didn't hear him, his ears burned. What the hell did he know about Erie? Where the hell was it?

Just when he thought Jonathan moved on, he circled back around with, "No, come on. I love Erie. You gotta tell me your favorite bar."

Daryl bent over to slip on gloves and then fiddle with the bricks to buy himself some time. He quickly imagined taking Carol and Sophia on vacation. "I don't remember names much." He shrugged. "I was just trying to keep the wife happy."

"Right. Well, from the sound of it, you did a good job. She couldn't stop talking about it."

Jonathan clapped Daryl on the shoulder. Laughing, he caroused the men into picking up the pace. Two men made a mess of slapping mortar down and Jules was laughing at dirty splash of water across Paul's face. Another duo followed with brick. Daryl couldn't recall their names. Not when he was racing to make up vacation details.

Thankfully, they had just scraped the bottom of the mortar container and needed to mix more. Daryl jumped over to the empty water bucket and said, "I'll take care of this."

Jonathan thanked him with a slow smile and the other men watched him go.

Daryl walked to the water pump with red ears and a target on his back. He worked all afternoon to keep the water flowing for the small batches of mortar and he sweated from the labor as much as his nerves.

Jonathan didn't let up.

"Did you go to Sluggers? That was my favorite bar in college."

Before, Jonathan carried the conversation, asking polite questions but also using it as an excuse to talk about himself. Something had changed. Now it was as if he was digging for dirt. The tension between Daryl's shoulders pulled tighter and tighter with each question.

He wanted to punch Jonathan's wagging mouth. Or pull that stupid polo over his head and push him to the dirt. Daryl tamped down those old problem-solving tendencies, Carol and Sophia never far from his mind.

"Don't fuck this up," he mentally chanted each time he handed off a bucket. If he could get through this afternoon, he'd make sure Kenny had tasks lined up for him from sun up to sun down. Just so he'd never have to do this again.

"What about the zoo?" Jonathan asked as he followed Daryl to the water spigot. "Which beach did you go to?"

He could only repeat the same half-assed answers so many times. Daryl inevitably snapped, "Fuck man, just let me fill the damn buckets."

The grin on Jonathan's face slipped faster than a drop of water dried in the desert.

An awkward silence stretched and thinned until Daryl muttered a slight apology, "Shit. It's hot."

"You've never been to Erie, have you?" Jonathan sucked in through his teeth.

Daryl's stomach dropped. "No, I have-"

"You don't have to lie." The usual warm that coated Jonathan's voice was gone and replaced with ice.

Daryl gulped, "Fuck man, I...musta just have gotten too drunk and forgot most of it."

Jonathan grabbed the bucket with a sideways glance. "Let's just call it a day."

He whistled and directed the wall crew toward clean up. Daryl stumbled over to help and managed to kick over a pile of bricks. He then attempted to stack them again after Jules cursed him lightly. Daryl didn't hear it though. His mind raged like a hive of bees.

As soon as Jonathan called to the others for the end of their shift Daryl raced across the yard. He dashed up the metal staircase, dodging his neighbors as they made their way downstairs for food. He slammed the door shut and paced. After two rounds he fumbled for his cigarettes.

By the time Carol arrived he had lit his third one.

"What's wrong?" She hissed, latching the door quickly.

"I fucked up, that's what's wrong. Jonathan's on to us. Or maybe he's just onto me." He explained the situation, the nagging questions, and then how Jonathan called out his lie.

Her face went white. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have talked about Erie."

"How the fuck would you have known he has a hard-on for his college town?" Daryl resumed pacing.

"I mean..." Carol paused to open a window. Brow furrowed, she continued, "I don't think I even mentioned you. It could have been a girls trip for all he knows!"

"But when he asked, I acted like I had been there. I'm an idiot. He's suspicious of me." Daryl buried his face in his palms, thumbs pressed to his temples.

He imagined the whispers now being passed across the dinner table: There's something wrong with that Daryl guy.

He's always so angry and hiding upstairs.

And now he lied about going on a family vacation. Who does that?

So, then, what else has he lied about?

Being a husband? A father?

"Daryl?" Carol slipped her hand around his and squeezed.

The little touch derailed his chaotic train of thought. He cracked open his eyes, blinked away the frustrated moisture there. Shamed, he glared at the tile. "What are we gonna do?" He croaked. "I'm sorry. It's my fault."

A thump came from the next room over and they both froze. A moment passed and then came more shuffling. Had they ever heard anyone next door before? What if they heard their conversation?

Carol recovered first. "Come with me. I need to show you something." It's like he had a chain wrapped around him and she gave it a little yank; he trotted after her, holding his breath until they passed the door next to theirs and whomever was inside.

Skylights lit up the hallway in rectangular patches. No one accosted them as they moved through light and shadow, light and shadow. Daryl's unusually stiff gait followed Carol's light footsteps.

For what he guessed to be a cover up in case anyone heard them, Carol abandoned their conversation and started explaining the makeup of the rooms they passed.

"After all those people left at the beginning, a lot of rooms opened up." She indicated an open door. "This one, Laura and I turned into a library. It's mostly railroad books now, but Laura already donated her stash and I think Rodney said he'd go get more."

The crowded room smelled like dust and time rather than paper and leather. Just one corner shelf held a handful of books. All the other dark shelves begged to be filled. Carol nudged the door closed behind him, a slight smile on her lips.

She cast a quick glance into the hallway and then said, "Who would have thought, a library in the apocalypse!"

"It's nice," he said begrudgingly, exhausted from keeping up a ruse all day with Jonathan, only to have to continue to do so now.

Carol took his hand. "It's not even the best part."

Around an empty bookcase and out another door, they stepped onto a balcony and he was met with a cool breeze. Storm clouds rolled out of the west, dark purple and swirling silver. Arms outstretched, she leaned over the wall and breathed deep. The sweet smell of incoming rain was impossible to miss.

A private balcony and a gorgeous view didn't solve their problem. It did give them a safe space to talk, however. Daryl relaxed slightly, but before he could restart their conversation, Carol cut him off.

"You know, when I left Atlanta, I didn't know what was coming. The only sure things in my book were Ed and Sophia. I didn't know where we were going or even if the train was the right decision." Carol paused, letting her wistful smile disappear as soon as it arrived.

Her easy dialogue countered his edginess like water doses flames. Despite being unsure why she brought up Atlanta, Daryl found himself glued to the floor as lightning lit up the horizon.

Carol continued, "I didn't know it then, but I also had you. You are a sure thing. More reliable and honorable than Ed ever was."

Any other day he may have floundered and blushed at her praise. Instead, he reminded her, "I fucked up though. A lot. And now-" It took him a few seconds to collect himself. When he finally spoke, his voice was thick with emotion. "Carol, what are we gonna do about Jonathan?"

To his surprise, Carol shrugged and waved the entire situation away. "What if we just told them the truth?"

His shoulders slumped and his breath left him. "Yer kiddin'."

"No. Kenny trusts you. As for Jonathan, he's a blowhard but he doesn't have any real authority. That's what I was going to say in our room. I don't know what's out there. But I know you and I know this place. I'll do anything to make it work. So, if we have to expose our lie, that's what we'll do." Carol paused to pick at the paint peeling on the railing. "And...then you won't have to pretend anymore."

"Not pretend anymore?" He retreated behind his shaggy hair as he repeated her.

"Yeah," Carol confirmed. She flicked a piece of paint off the edge and slapped on a shallow smile. "No more pretending to be married. I know it hasn't been easy on you, so maybe this is our chance to get out of it."

Daryl sucked in sharply.

Was the answer to the problem really not to bind them closer together but to tear them apart? Her casual proposal suggested as much. She had married them out of fear, bound them together on a whim. Now that it had gotten too messy, they could end it on a whim. Snuff it out like a match.

On paper, it was a reasonable solution.

Instead of relaxing, a different kind of panic rattled his nerves. Stop pretending to be a husband and a father? Leave them? Be alone? An invisible vice clenched Daryl's heart and threatened to shatter it across his ribcage.

"Daryl? Are you okay? I'll come clean for us, you don't have to say anything. It is my fault, after all." She tilted her head, trying to break his focus away from his feet.

Ironic now that Carol finally brought up their problem, he silently dropped it. Daryl put aside Jonathan. He put aside the lie and exposing it. He dragged his gaze from the ground to stare at her shoes with his chest rapidly expanding and desperation clouding his reason.

"Nah...I don't wanna. Unless you want ta."

Carol shook her head. "Daryl-"

He shook his fists. "I mean, I do. It's annoying as fuck-I don't wanna pretend..." He let out a frustrated growl and risked a glance upward.

Carol's hair was just starting to curl around her ears and he found that he liked the look. That, and so many other things about her. The slight bend to her shoulders, the delicate tips of her fingers, the way she struck a walker down with one blow, glittering with sweat. The deep sky hidden in her eyes and that light that greeted him on that boxcar so many days ago.

The same light shined in her blue gaze now, even if it was tinted with confusion.

It's true. He wanted to stop pretending. He really did.

He wanted to stop pretending because now he actually wanted to be her husband.

It wasn't as if he had any experience, or any right to call himself that. Hell, this farce was the closest thing to a relationship he'd ever had. He didn't know what it really entailed, but damn it, he wanted to try. And then, if he was lucky, someday he could be worthy of that title. If she'd give him a chance.

"Daryl?"

"Ain't any good at this," he confessed raggedly.

"What are you talking about?"

Shaking, Daryl cupped her ear and tucked the wild curls behind it. Ever watchful, he didn't miss her soft inhale or the way her eyelashes fluttered under his touch. She didn't pull away. He couldn't help himself, his lips twisted upward just for a second.

"Carol?"

"Yes?"

A few raindrops pattered around them. One landed on Carol's nose and he swiped it away with his thumb.

"I...don't wanna stop bein' yer husband..."

"I...Oh!"

Pushed by the wind at his back and the desperation, he leaned in. Daryl didn't have time to ponder the surprise and understanding reflected in her gaze because she stood on her toes and pressed her mouth to his. Daryl caught the corner of her curved lips, but she corrected for them, slanting her mouth over his. With a collective sigh, they spent a few breathless seconds learning each other while thunder rolled in the distance.

In the back of his mind he recognized the lazy caresses of her fingers at the nape of his neck and found his body responding the same way it had the night after installing the water pump. He sloppily pushed her up against the railing with a low growl.

Maybe he wasn't so blind and foolish when it came to women as he thought.

When they parted, she laughed. "Are we making this marriage official? And I was just about to break us up!"

He balked at her teasing and muttered, "I can still move out if you want."

"Don't be silly." She pulled the front of his shirt and kissed him again. "You can't move out now."

A knock on the balcony door interrupted the moment. Daryl jumped back as if he did something wrong, as if someone catching him kissing Carol, his supposed wife, would be cause for alarm. The ridiculousness of the situation didn't escape him. It must not have escaped Carol either because she steadied him, her eyes shining with humor.

She was braver than him and turned to greet the intruder. "Hi, sweetie," Carol said. She casually ruffled her hair, resetting the gray wisps.

Daryl couldn't decide if Sophia catching them was the best scenario or the worst scenario. Either way, he drudged up enough courage to lift his head to confirm that it was the girl on the balcony. He shifted from one foot to the other, looking for Carol to take the lead while he attempted to gather his wits.

Sophia eyed her mother and then Daryl. "You guys okay?"

Daryl coughed out, "Yeah."

Carol elbowed him lightly. "We're fine."

Unconvinced, Sophia tipped her chin upward. "If you say so."

"Do you need something, Sophia?"

"Oh! Right." The girl giggled to herself, recovered, and explained, "Mrs. Laura was looking for you, Mama. Said she needed help with something."

Carol sighed. "Alright. I'll be right there."

"She's in the kitchen," Sophia clarified, then mischief curled her lips. "Or, she was. It took me a long time to find you."

"I'm sure I'll find her."

A loud crack of thunder split the sky above them. Sophia jumped and dashed back inside. She closed the door, but paused to observe them through the glass. Carol waved her daughter away. With a glance at the sky, Carol said, "We better go. At the very least, I can get a good gauge of the situation from Laura."

Daryl admired her ability to switch back to the issue from before. He, on the other hand, was speechless, a little drunk on that kiss and the thrill of it all.

As she tugged him toward the door and out of the increasing rain, Carol raised a brow at his flushed face. "I know I'm good but I'm not that good, Daryl," she teased.

He couldn't come up with a response to that either, too stunned and happy. It would take him some time to fully process the line they had crossed, but for now he would take Carol's teasing without retort. When they were inside the library, Daryl turned back to the original topic of discussion. He scratched the back of his head and asked, "Are...are you gonna tell her about us? The lie I mean."

Carol considered him for a moment. "Am I going to tell her I made up our marriage?" She grinned and he was compelled to mimic her. "No, I don't think so. Not yet anyway. Why make waves if we don't have to? But we will have to figure out something to tell Jonathan to satisfy his dumb curiosity."

Daryl nodded, relieved.

The hallway was darker now but still empty. Rain pounded on the skylights. Together, they stopped at the door to their room. "Let me know how it goes," Daryl said.

"I will." She took a half step to the exit, decided against it, and came back to place her hands on his chest. "But only after you kiss me again."

Author's Note: Finally! Feels good to have them together. :)

Let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!-randomcat23