Mid March

Jasmine shivered, her face completely ablaze as the blood rushed to her cheeks. She panted, her lips colliding with her partner's as he slammed her up against the lip of the sink. Dixon had her leaning backwards, her lower back digging into the rim of the ceramic basin as he embraced her. Their bodies were flush against one other, the archer's strong chest pressed against her own, rising and falling heavily as he struggled to contain himself. Her left hand was tangled within his hair, her right gripping the leather of his vest and the soft cotton beneath. The feeling of his large hands upon her hips, her legs trembling as he relentlessly kissed her; it was all so overwhelming. Her head was reeling, her pulse rushing, and her heart throbbing in her ears. Daryl groaned as she caught his bottom lip with her teeth, his shoulders physically tensing beneath his clothes. In an instant, he had lifted her up and over to the bathroom wall, her back slamming up against the rather chilly surface.

His tongue slipped between her lips immediately, battling for control of her mouth. A breathy moan of delirious fervor escaped her. Her blood was simmering beneath her skin, and judging by how warm Daryl's face was, he was just as heated as Jasmine was. With a fierce grip on her hips, her legs wrapped instinctively around his waist, her tangled fingers snaking from his dark locks and joining it's associate in grasping his shoulders and clothes. The archer suddenly broke away from her, his lips trailing down along her jaw and then peppering the side of her throat, his teeth nipping her occasionally, causing her back to arch against the porcelain of the bathroom interior. "F-Fuck-" she stammered, her voice a simple wisp of air.

Suddenly, as if she were weightless, Daryl lifted her up and turned on his heals and knelt, laying her on the ground beneath him. His hands were all over her, a calloused extremity sliding up beneath the lip of her shirt, caressing the soft ivory skin beneath. The two fought for dominance of one another's lips, just as they would in an argument. All emotion having been restricted for the past eleven months of knowing the archer was now overflowing into an aggressive assault, their bodies reacting to one another's in a carnal struggle. Their lips met once more, their noses brushing-

Her eyes snapped open, ripping her from the heated dream she had just been six-feet deep in. Her sheets were completely twisted around her left leg, the rest of them disheveled or knocked off the mattress completely. Jasmine shivered in the chilly air, her face still aflame from the rather hot fantasy her mind had concocted. Aghast, she remained stagnant, staring up into the darkness with wide emerald eyes. Her fingers, still trembling, latched onto her upper arms. Her hands slowly passed over her chilled flesh, goosebumps breaking out over her entire body. Her stomach became as hard as stone as she realized just how untamed the idea of Daryl had become within her mind, despite how often she attempted to shut it out.

Given the heart-break and agony that Jasmine had been put through recently, any sort of emotion or stirring of affectionate feelings toward anybody had been discarded and completely denied. It wasn't until now that she had realized that it had festered, becoming rampant and unsettled within the confines of her subconscious. Was it so bad to feel? Was it so bad to accept the fact that Rick was now gone? The man who would have fathered her child? She felt uncomfortable with these thoughts as the flow became unrelenting. Jasmine swallowed hard, letting out a trembling breath.

Rising from her bed, she disentangled herself and struggled to pull herself from the mattress. She was eventually successful though, lighting a candle and quietly padded across the carpet to her dresser. Jasmine changed into a fresh pair of undergarments, hooking her cotton bra and slipping the straps up over her shoulders. With a tug, she pulled open her drawer and began to search for her leggings. It didn't take long for her to find them and put them on, before searching for a shirt. Usually she would keep her pants and shirts in together, just to make things easier, given that she didn't have much to choose from. Jasmine used the top drawer to keep her ronins and their sheathes in, as well as her deodorant and comb.

The bottom drawer was for books and other items she used when she had free time, as well as a dried couple of sprigs of lavender which helped give her clothes a floral sort of scent to them. As she moved to shuffle through the right side of her compartment, she laid her hands upon one of the knit sweaters that Carol had found for her. It was long, the color of doves, and covered her up to her breasts in a v-neck formation, which she admired. It also accented her figure, which gave her confidence, as well as comfort. The young woman pulled the v-neck over her head and pushed her arms through the sleeves, then ran a hand up through her hair.

Jasmine combed her dark locked out and then clipped up the back, her brunette locks sweeping over the right side of her cranium, a few strands dangling free from the left. Plodding to the mirror hanging on the wall to her right, she peered at herself curiously, candle in hand. Finally, she decided to unpin her hair, allowing it to cascade over her neck. The precious item of jewelry that dangled around her neck gleamed smartly in the warm glow of the flame. Smiling gently, Jasmine exited her bedroom. The brunette shut her door behind herself, and plodded down the hall. Taking to the stairs, Jasmine descended to the foyer and stepped up into the kitchen, setting down the candle holder on the marble surface of the island.

Being the first (well, second, considering how early Daryl was usually up), the young woman made herself some hot chicken broth and then set to lighting the candles within the foyer and parting the curtains, allowing the dull dusky blue light to filter in through the massive windows. First retrieving her mug of broth, Jasmine then plodded to the mud mat, tugged on her combat boots and winter coat. Picking up the hot mug, she unlocked the heavy front egress and opened the door with her free extremity. Stepping out onto the front veranda, she listened to the rain as it fell heavily upon the snowy mountain side. Daryl had to be freezing at this point.

The idea of the archer caused a great wave of anxiety to wash over her. Nibbling upon her bottom lip, she buried herself further into her coat and took a sip of the hot broth. The damp aroma of precipitation had been something she missed. Perhaps it was a sign of spring? That meant warming weather ahead... since it had to be around the middle of March, spring had to be right around the corner, right? She watched as swollen droplets of water welled upon heavy spruce branches, drooping from the weight of the frozen bubbles of liquid. Everything seemed to have a layer of glass, gleaming in the grey watery light.

The door behind her opened with a creak, the suction creating a rather irritating hiss. "Oh, good mornin' Jasmine," greeted the newcomer. Turning her head, she peered upon Abraham, who owned a rather large mug of tea. "I thought someone might be up. Didn't think that Daryl would light everythin'." The beefy red head wandered over to the chairs set out for viewing the plateau, and settled down with a mighty huff. He glanced over at her with a pleasant glance. "Comin' to sit down?" he invited.

Jasmine paused, processing, before she traipsed over, taking the neighboring seat. "How'd you sleep?" inquired the brunette.

Abraham shrugged and took a sip of his coffee. "As well as I could. You?" The casual conversation was enough to drive her nuts.

"I guess I could say the same," Jasmine answered, shrugging. Taking a mouthful of the warm broth, she felt the warm liquid wash down her throat, warming her insides and cheeks. The sound of the rain drumming upon the roof of the veranda and hissing as it hit the snow filled the silence. The two enjoyed their warm drinks for a while longer before Abraham cleared his throat. Her head turned to face him.

"How, uh... how are you holdin' up?" he asked carefully. She felt her stomach twist. She knew what he was referring to, yet she remained quiet. "With the whole... Rick situation." Jasmine honestly dug deep for this one. Her emerald eyes flitted off to gaze upon the woods in the distance. She let out a soft exhale, the oxygen drifted from her nose.

"Hey, that's alright. I'm sorry, I don't mean to bring things up. I was honestly just curious." His warm, pleasant tone was endearing. Although she didn't exactly stick near Abraham often, she still enjoyed his company.

Her fingers shifted upon the hot surface of the clay mug in her grasp. "No, no... it's okay. Honestly, I'm unsure about how I'm doing. Some days are easier on me than others. The hormones don't help." Shrugging, Jasmine flattened her lips together.

"If you weren't knocked up, I'm sure you'd be out there with Daryl. I'm sure he would appreciate the company, and it'd help you distract yourself." Abraham's bass octave drifted to her ears with such serenity. Jasmine chuckled. "You've got that right," she murmured. "I miss it, I really do..." Abraham hummed. The silence proceeded on, the gap filled with the hush of the storm. "How are you and Sasha?" asked Jasmine.

"She's finally moved in. Startin' to think I should talk to Rick 'bout moving Fallon to her own room." The idea caused a pang of realization to wash over her. Since Fallon had been removed from the basement, they had had no trouble with her. It had sort of floated at the back of her mind, how she had treated her back in Hatchback Grove. She wasn't exactly sure about the complete acceptance as part of the group, but she understood that she had been patient, as well as pleasant about things, surprisingly. She had become less vocal of her opinion and rather bashful, now that she thought about it. "I honestly couldn't believe that she was blind when she told us."

"Also, she's eighteen... how?" Jasmine added, completely aghast. "Carl is a year away from being an adult like her, how could-"

"I believe it was the way she carried herself. It was hard to think of her as anything but their leader, I suppose. Plus, that follow of her's probably enforced her rules. Anyone who disagreed was treated like trash." Jasmine shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. Abraham most likely noticed this and fell silent. "Either way, it's quite incredible."

"Those two have been spending a lot of time together, haven't they?" Jasmine pointed out.

Abraham chuckled deeply. "The first girl around his age is living with him in the same building. I don't think the kid cares about the circumstances. Jus' so long as he can get some tail!" Jasmine giggled softly. He was only being honest. Testosterone-fueled boy meets bad-ass young woman. Perhaps it was something about her original darkness that had intrigued him. "Still, it just makes me uneasy sometimes," remarked the brunette. She pulled one of her slender legs up and rested it under her thigh. "Sometimes I think that she might just up and betray us. I'm glad Rick is being cautious."

"Careful Jasmine. You're beginnin' to sound like Daryl."

"Good," she challenged, shooting him a glance. "I'd rather be cautious than blind!" Another throaty laugh escaped the red-head. Her seriousness turned into a simper and she shook her head and placed her now-empty mug upon the surface of the table between them."You mean paranoid?" Abraham chortled.

"Better than gettin' my bow stollen!" Jasmine jeered, taking on her own imitation of the archer's drawl. She raised her arms as if to hold the crossbow and fired it with a soft 'pew'. "Ain't gonna trust no one, no sir!" Abraham burst out laughing and Jasmine hushed him, even despite how she too was beginning to join his guffaw. The brute sighed as he came down from his moment of elation, shaking his head.

"Best not let him catch you sayin' those things. He'd have your head!"

Humming in agreement, she shrugged. "Well, he can suck it."

"Right on!"

Maggie and Jasmine were washing the dishes from breakfast, the smell of brown sugar and porridge giving the air a delectable aroma. Jordan was sitting on the couch, sharing a bowl with her companion, Reese. It was very obvious that someone was taking a bath upstairs, given the sound of the pipes creaking. "Do you think it's a bad idea?" asked Jasmine. Maggie frowned as she dried the dish in her hand. "Pardon?" she questioned, a bit confused now.

Jasmine turned toward the young woman beside her. "Fallon is being moved to Sasha's old room... I mean, do you think it's wise to give her somewhere to sleep without supervision?" Maggie reached up, putting away the dish where it belonged. She then set down the towel, placed a hand down upon the surface of the counter, and turned with a hand on her hip. She looked at Jasmine for a moment longer. "I think it's time to let her in. She's exposed herself to all of us; she took off her mask, she participates in family discussions..."

"Yes, but what if its all just a lie?" she inquired. She scrubbed the pot a few times, paused and shook her head. "I... I don't know. I'm sorry. I must sound crazy!" Maggie's damp hand rested upon her shoulder. The taller girl gave a sympathetic smile. "I know it's gonna be hard, but you know what? You were a newcomer at one point... people do things they're not proud of. Maybe she was being forced to make those decision for Blake. Maybe she wasn't in control of herself at that time." Jasmine sighed heavily and shook her head.

"Listen, I know that we've seen the worst of her... but I honestly think that she's turnin' around. Doesn't she always ask you about the baby?" explained the farm girl. "When Rick lost his wife, we watched him lose his mind. It made me realize that even good folks can stumble on their way through life. Maybe somethin' just hit her hard and somethin' snapped?" Jasmine finished washing the dishes and began to drain the sink. She remained silent. Maggie turned and began to finish drying the last bit. "I think that she's correcting herself, Jasmine. I really do."

"I know Maggie... I know, I'm sorry. I shouldn't be so closed-minded. It isn't fair," she mumbled. Jasmine turned herself around and leaned up over the island upon her elbows. "Don't apologize, alright? I get it. I understand why you're scared."

No, you don't... she thought, her mind drifting back to the evening that she had taken Matthias in turn for Maggie's safety. You don't understand. It could have been Maggie who was pregnant right now. It could have been Maggie who had been pressed down into the dirt, taking the beating. It could have been her with her womanhood feeling as if it had been turned inside out. It could have been her with the empty, disgusting feeling afterward. Jasmine couldn't have let that happen though, and now that she had made that decision almost four months ago, she had to pay the price. She should have killed him when she had the chance; him and Blake. If she had gone down, she would have gone swinging. She would have gone down with their blood on her hands.

The heavy wooden egress swung open, the hinges shrieking faintly in pain. "Cold?" asked Maggie. The sound of the door shutting behind the newcomer caused Jasmine to turn her head. Her stomach swallowed her heart when she looked upon the sight of a drenched Daryl Dixon. His dark tangle of hair was plastered to his head, his shirt clearly soaked and slick, wet sheen to his vest. His coat was damp in different places, and his shoes were mucky. "Yeah. Its fuckin' winter out there, that's for sure," he replied. His gravelly voice shook her to the core. She felt as if she could listen to it forever; it felt as if it had been decades since she had heard him speak.

"Just be careful, we don't want you getting sick on us again!" Maggie mused.

"Yeah, I won't. I'll be fine, I've been out in worse..."

The archer struggled out of his coat and vest, revealing how his flannel was completely sopping down the back. The sleeves were cuffed up to his elbows, the grey-shirt beneath most likely the driest article on him. "Well, what else did you expect? Summer skies?" asked Jasmine. Her voice was an alien sound to her, and seemed to almost croak from her throat rather than ring as it would before. Daryl's eyes landed upon her and she balled her fists, her nails digging into her palms. She couldn't let the dream influence her actions. So what? Those kinds of dreams happened... and plus, she was hormonal. There wasn't anything to worry about. "How you been doin'?" asked Daryl, stepping up to the island. He fiddled with his nail as he usually would when talking. He always had to be fussing with something, always had to be moving.

"I'm alright," she replied. There was silence. Maggie watched the two for a moment longer before clearing her throat and excusing herself. The farm girl exited up the stairs, most likely to nap; she had been quite tired lately, especially after taking watch for two nights in a row. The silence continued as Jasmine rocked on her feet. "Uh... wanna see what I brought back?" Daryl suddenly asked. His hushed voice was music to her ears. Jasmine smiled and nodded. Slipping the bag off his shoulder, she noticed how he moved like liquid, as if the injury had never happened. It brought her great pride.

The two shuffled down the hall to the storage room, unlocking it quickly with the key in the empty candle-holder, and stepped inside of the musty room. The floor was cold, the chilly sensation felt even through her socks. Jasmine watched carefully as Daryl entered the room, studying how his back moved so smoothly; every muscle, every gesture, every slight bit of movement. Leaning in the doorway, she watched as he knelt and began to unpack. The archer pulled out jerky, applesauce, crackers, broth, as well as various packages of dried fruit. "I figured that we should try gettin' Judith on applesauce. Since shes gettin' so big, y'know?"

"Did you find any other baby food?" asked Jasmine, curiously ambled over to the archer. She knelt beside him and began to help him unpack the sack.

"Yeah, but I didn't trust it. The expiration date wasn't on 'em," replied Daryl. He shrugged and turned his head to look upon her. She could feel his eyes eating at her skin, yet refused to look. Nodding, she hummed in agreement. Picking up the packages of dried fruit, she rose and began to head toward the shelf. Suddenly, Daryl managed to grab hold of her wrist, and just as he rose to his feet, pulled her up close to him, drawing her into a kiss-

Jasmine rose and began to head toward the shelf, her ears on fire from the little daydream that went through her head. For a split second, she could have sworn that something was going to happen between the two. Honestly, if he really did have feelings for her like the girls had expressed such a while ago, she knew that they must have been extinguished. After all they had been through though...

Reaching up, the young woman began to place the items she carried where they needed to be placed. Daryl shuffled behind her, obvious that he was mirroring her actions.

It didn't take long for everything to be put away. Daryl stuffed a hand into his pocket before he picked up the empty duffel bag. Swinging it over his shoulder with one swoop, his fingers held the handle limply with an extended wrist. "Wanna go out for a walk?" he proposed. The idea, from her point of view at the moment, seemed exhausting... but if it meant that they would be able to spend some time together...?

"Maybe later," she abruptly answered. Daryl's brows rose and he gave a gentle nod. Oh, she hoped that she hadn't disappointed him. His head tilted down and his foot scuffed the ground ever so casually. "Its too cold anyway. Might catch somethin'," he remarked, shrugging it off.

Frowning, she sighed. "If it stops raining, I'll definitely go out with you. I'd love to, actually," explained Jasmine. "You're right, I don't want to get sick, though." Her hand snaked down to the swelling beneath her sweater. His eyes followed, stilling upon her delicate extremity, before their shale-blue depths flitted up to meet her pale emerald gaze. He nodded his head gently. This whole situation had been a bit awkward. Okay, very awkward. Exiting together, they had just made it into the hall, when suddenly the staircase creaked. Jasmine tensed, knowing fully well who it would be. As soon as Daryl seemed to notice, he closed the distance between the two; with a large mit resting upon her side, he guided her up toward the kitchen and then off the lip of the dais-like platform, and into the foyer.

They came to the edge of the fire-place, where she began to warm her hands. His hand lifted from where it rested into the crook of her waist, and he whispered something softly to her, which she completely drowned out. Jasmine could hear his foot falls, she could hear his soft mumbles to Michonne and his soft cooing to little Judith. This left her to sink to the ground gracefully, settling before the crackling flames. She felt very cold, very uncomfortable...

"Hey, Rick," Daryl called, crossing the foyer. The regal leader turned his head and gave him a rather confused look. He could see every bit of his weariness within his blue eyes. He wanted to smack that expression right off of his dumbass face. "I need to talk with you 'bout somethin'..." He kept his shoulders rigid, his expression clearly displeased. He really didn't want to do this. Really, really. Even as his lips moved when he spoke, it pissed the archer off. Clearing his throat, Rick blinked a few times. Michonne glanced between the two, clearly suspicious and apprehensive, just as the regal officer was.

Nonetheless, he handed Judith over to the raven beauty beside him and turned, giving him a nod. "Alright, let's talk then..." he agreed. Daryl shook his head and gestured off to the door with a jab of his crown. Rick's eyes wandered to the egress before returning to the archer. He cleared his throat again, swallowing in the morning light filtering in through the large windows. The two parted from the lodge, pulling on their coats and boots in silence before heading out the door. The wooden egress closed with a snap of pressure as they exited, leaving the trouble behind them.

Daryl didn't say a word as he adjusted the strap of his crossbow, reassuring himself that it was there if needed. This sour feeling in his gut was beginning to get worse and worse as they approached the woods. The rain had ceased, the sun beginning to peak out from the thick veil of grey above. His jaw clenched as his irritation grew hotter and hotter by the minute, glowing like a hot ember in a fire pit. Even the fuckin' presence of this asshole was pissing him off. At the same time though, he felt awful. Why? This asshat deserved it...

The two had made it a few feet into the brush. Daryl stepped over a log, using the thick bow of an ancient beech to steady himself in case he tripped. "I uh... I think I already know what this is about..." Rick stated. His voice cut through him like a hot knife- he wasn't prepared. Not just yet. "Might as well just spit it out now." Turning his head, Daryl peered over at the leader before turning his torso to face him. Rick had a hand on his hip, the other pinching the bridge of his nose. The archer's lips parted ever so slightly. There was too much to say, that was it. Simple.

"I can tell you honestly that things just fell into place. I honestly didn't expect it to happen..." the leader began. Daryl turned, beginning to travel forward once again, watching where he put his feet as he listened to him explain himself. Judging by the rustling of the snow and exposed leaves, he was following in suit. "Jasmine was distancing herself, and Michonne was there when she wasn't. She was too busy tendin' to you to even communicate with me."

Tensing as Grimes fell in step with him, he avoided looking directly at him; Daryl watched the path ahead instead. If he happened to so much as glance at Rick, he wasn't sure what he would do to him... and he wasn't gonna take the time to find out. He didn't feel like returning with broken knuckles and a shiner. Jasmine would kill him. The two took to the path to the right, heading north, remaining side-by-side as Rick chatted away. He could feel him glancing at him. "I knew that she wasn't that attached to begin with. I should have been able to think better of it. I hope she didn' feel that she needed to stick around."

Swallowing, he began to feel that sour feeling in the pit of his stomach turn into an ache. His knuckles were turning white where they gripped the strap of his bow. "I was really surprised when you knew about it..." Rick spilled. "'Cause honestly, I didn't know about her being pregnant until then. I just went with it because she seemed to be flailing, and I wanted to reach out." Daryl stopped in his tracks and turned his head, looking upon Rick.

"What?" he spat. Daryl narrowed his eyes and curling his lip up ever so slightly. "What did you jus' say?" His head bobbed faintly as he attempted to make sense of it. Daryl looked at him, his eyes peeling open wide. Rick's brow furrowed. He slipped his tongue over his lips, hands in his pockets. There was a moment of heavy silence; a raven croaked off in the distance, the sound cutting through both of them. Rick turned his head up to look upon the bird as it curiously fluttered overhead. Daryl didn't flinch.

He took a step toward the leader. "What was it that you jus' said?" he demanded, repeating himself. Rick took a partial step back, instantly defensive. "I didn't know about the pregnancy until that night..." The sentence hit Daryl like a bullet, tearing through him. His eyes widened, the aftershock of realization taking hold of him.

Rick sighed heavily and ran a nervous hand through his hair. "How... how did you find out? Did she tell you?" Daryl remained frozen to where he was.

"That crazy bitch told me..." he finally admitted, shaking his head. "The one in the basement."

"Fallon?" Rick corrected, albeit he was rather confused at this point. "But how in hell's half acre could she know?"

Silence ensued once again. Daryl shook his head and continued to traipse along, leaving Rick where he was. There was too much to take into account at the moment. It was overwhelming and unpleasant. The archer just wanted it to all be over. How could Fallon have known? How? Unless something had happened at Hatchback Grove that he was unaware of... Fuck, he didn't know anything about pregnancy even if it slapped him in the face! Did Carol know? Maggie? Who could have passed it to Fallon somehow? If it were Rick's... wait, was it even Rick's?

The thought made his head careen every which way. Daryl stumbled, only managing to catch himself on a nearby tree before he hurled into the brush. The familiar taste of stomach acid burned his tongue and throat, the bitter taste coating his taste buds. Rick had just caught up with him as he had finished wiping his lips with the back of his hand. Daryl spat out the acerbic taste as best he could in one last bullet of spittle, then turned to Rick, his face pale. The leader took note that he had just been ill, and turned his head, clearly put off. "I remember," Rick began once again. He caught himself, swallowing heavily. "I remember that Lori... Lori said once that it takes weeks for symptoms to show up. That's what put me off, it didn't..."

Daryl felt sick again, but swallowed it back. "It didn' make sense?" he finished. The leader turned his head to look at the archer, nodding. Rick's head then drooped and he looked at his feet. His chest was painfully empty as he looked upon the man he had once called his brother. Anger began to well inside of him. This wasn't why he wanted to talk! "And even after she came to you, yours or not, needin' someone she could call her kid's dad... you had the balls to go back on your promise."

Rick let out a breathy laugh and raised his head, grinning as if it were hilarious. "I didn't promise anything..." he rasped, turning his head down to face Daryl. His smile faded away. The tension crackled. The archer glowered at the leader, slate blue-grey gaze hard and sharp enough to slice through flesh.

"What the fuck is wrong you?" he hissed.

"It wasn't mine, don't you understand? So if it wasn't mine-"

Daryl instantly knew that he was getting at, and retaliated. "How the fuck could it be mine, Rick?! How?!"

"You two were inseparable. She was always askin' where you were whenever you weren't around, and you'd do exactly the same thing. She practically gravitated toward you, so it was kinda hard not to assume!" Silence ensued as the archer never flinched from Rick's relentless gaze. "The way you were actin' sometimes I wondered if you two were just screwin' around." Rick's brows lifted and he took on a listless expression. "I don't know, maybe you were just usin' her because she reminded you of Beth-"

Daryl felt as if his body had moved on its own as he lunged, his fist colliding with Rick's cheekbone. The leader floundered as he tried to catch him, luckily grabbing hold of the closest branch he could snatch in his grasp. Pulling himself back to his feet, it took him seconds to pull his pistol from it's holster. The safety was removed with a latching sound, immediately following the safety of Daryl's crossbow as he too lifted his weapon. His eyes stared down the scope of his bow, his finger itching to fire, yet hesitating. "Don't fucking try me, Daryl."

Rick's body tilted to the side, bracing in case he had to fire. "Don't you fuckin' dare bring her into this!" Daryl rasped. His voice cracked slightly in pitch as emotion was coursing through him. He could fire right now, and take Rick out.

Rick could easily slaughter him like he would an injured horse. A moment of harrowing reticence filled the gap. Upon impulse, Daryl lowered his crossbow and stepped right up to the barrel of the gun, feeling the frigid metal press to his brow. "You don't got the guts," he muttered. Rick slowly began to realize the situation and how out of hand it had become. "Not after all we've been through..." The wind whistled in his ears. Slowly, the barrel lowered and he took a step or two back. The archer's hands trembled against his sides, just as Rick's did as he stared at the gun. "I ain't like Shane."

The silence was unbearable. "No... no you aren't Shane," Rick muttered, completely aghast and insulted to think that his behavior had lead him to drawing a weapon on his best friend. "Daryl, I'm sorry. That... that was insensitive of me..." He shook his head, his expression becoming troubled. He put away the gun. "This can't be how things go for us- everyone's finally at peace here, we can't-"

"It's already happenin'," Daryl clipped. His eyes lowered. "All we can do is work together... for everyone else." Daryl raised his crossbow up, his elbow tilting so that the archer could get a good look at it... he then gave it a cold, uncomfortable glare. He then lowered it so it could face the ground. He shook his head, his shoulders slightly drooped in defeat. Rick lowered his head, mirroring his actions. The lull in the conversation returned once again. It seemed to last forever.

The sound of Jude's whistle cut through the air, drifting from the lodge. The contending two simultaneously snapped their heads up, their eyes meeting. Startled, they wheeled around, bolting for the break in the trees. It didn't take them long to notice how the door hung open with no explanation. Breaking into a sprint, the two readied their weapons and entered the front door. Inside stood Michonne and Jasmine; the raven beauty stood in front of her protectively, sword drawn and pointed directly at his head, whereas Jasmine held a red-hot fire-iron, holding as if it were her own sword. Between the two women and the newcomers stood a tall, stalky man. He appeared to be in his mid-fifties, maybe even pushing sixty; his belly was slightly rotund, his greasy black hair graying at the edges.

Facial hair sprayed along his jaw and connected at his chin, a cut upon his cheek dribbled crimson. The man turned, gawking at the two who entered with fear in his eyes. Daryl and Rick parted ways, the door slamming behind them as the archer kicked it shut. "Please, I mean no harm! I've been hurt and I need medical attention- then I'll be on my way, honest-" With a jab of his bow, he silenced the older man. Glancing at the gun in his hand, Daryl shot Rick a look.

"Drop the gun," Rick ordered. The pistol fell to the ground with a loud clatter. The leader then nodded to Daryl, who began to search him. As he was patting him down, the man let out a loud hiss and flinched. Daryl drew away with blood on his hand, recoiling and wrinkling his nose. "Look's like he wasn't lyin'," Daryl remarked.

"Michonne, go get Jude and Fallon," Rick shot, nodding off toward his partner. The slender woman nodded in reply, mirroring her leader's action, and then turned, darting for the stairs. "W-wait-" the man stammered, looking at Jasmine. "Hang on, t-tell 'em Jasmine-" Daryl slowly circled over to stand between the vulnerable woman and the injured stranger. Rick's gun dug into the side of his head.

"How do you know her name?" growled the leader, demanding an answer.

"I-" Suddenly the man cringed and let out a grunt, his raised hand falling to his side. He began to pant, trying to catch his breath. "B-Back at H-Hatchback- Fallon, Jude... Jasmine..." He cried out once again in agony, collapsing to his knees. Rick sheathed his weapon and sank to the ground at his side. He was clearly in need of attention.

Daryl felt anger and fear flare within his chest. "Rick, what're you-"

"Jasmine, go grab the first-aid kit!" he called. The young woman blinked, coming out of her stricken state, and nodded, rushing to the kitchen. "Don't take your eyes off him, Daryl."

"Thank you..." murmured the stranger, clearly relieved. Daryl hesitated, but forced himself to look upon the stranger. If he tried anything, he would get an arrow through the skull, that was for sure. Jasmine returned just as Fallon and Jude ambled down the stairs. Michonne quickly skidded up beside them. Instantly recognizing the man, Jude shot Rick a glance, before kneeling next to him. "Ron-nnie, what ha-appened?!" questioned the young man. The two helped the injured man to the couch. All weapons were lowered, although they kept tabs on him, just in case. "Ran into some bandits while lookin' f'r food..."

Daryl even loosened up, allowing his arm to go limp as he cast his bow down. Shifting from foot to foot, he watched as Jasmine apprehensively began to help the older man out. Her hands were visibly trembling. He only hoped that it was because of the shock of the moment, and not for some other reason... "Ronnie, is it? My name is Rick," the leader began. "Are you by chance married to an Emma?" The man's dark eyes brightened at the mention of the woman's name.

"Where is she? Is she safe? I've been searching all over for her since Hatchback Grove fell..." rumbled the man. Jasmine tensed and glanced over at Fallon, who had retreated back upstairs. Rick followed her gaze, finding empty space as well, before turning his attention back to the man. His eyes traveled over to the archer standing in front of the fire, locking eyes with him. The two took a moment to make a decision simply by exchanging a glance. "She's safe," Daryl stated softly. The man loosened up.

"She'll be thrilled to know that you're alive," Rick noted, nodding. Tear sprang into Ronnie's eyes and he sobbed. This only lead to him cringing as pain ran through him. As Jasmine exposed the wound, it was clear that he had been stabbed. He would be in need of stitches. Jasmine met Rick's gaze, worry marring her heart-shaped face. "We're going to need to call Carol..."

Rick once again looked up at Daryl. "Alright. Daryl, would you grab the radio off my hip? I'm gonna help Jasmine stifle the blood... make sure you use number six." Doing as he was asked, the archer snatched up the radio and dialed it back. Hopefully they hadn't gone too far. No matter how he tried to feel at ease in this situation, he could tell that Jasmine was uncomfortable (for reasons unknown, which made it even worse). Nonetheless, he bit his tongue and pressed down on the large button on the side. "We have a stranger here needing medical attention. All parties need to return to the lodge immediately," Daryl droned into the speaker. Releasing the button, the loud hiss of the radio took up the silence before there came an answer.

"On our way," Abraham replied.

"What? Alright, be there asap!" Glenn answered.

Finally, Carol replied on the other end. "Who is it? What kind of wound is it?" Daryl let out a heavy sigh and pressed down on the button. "We think it's a cut or a stab wound; somethin' done with a knife." The radio fuzzed as he released the button.

"Is everything okay?" asked Abraham.

"Everyone's doin' fine, just get your asses down here."

Releasing the button, he clipped the radio to his belt. As he turned, he was greeted by Reese. The chicken bobbed his head nervously and scuttled through his legs. Hopping up onto the dais, the avian disappeared behind the island. Daryl pondered upon it for a moment before he turned his attention over to the others on the couch. Conversation drawled on. The man was beginning to lose quite a bit of blood... and the archer began to pace.

The wound had been dealt with accordingly. Unfortunately for Emma, Rick had explained to her that if Ronnie wanted to stay, he would have to prove himself. There had been a massive argument regarding whether Emma would leave or stay with Ronnie. The group was completely against the idea of her taking off with her husband, claiming that they'd surely parish; the older woman replied with the fact that she'd rather die with her husband than live with people who were 'too paranoid for their own good'.

After a long evening of debating, Rick had evidently left him under Emma's supervision. The group ate dinner in near silence, awkward now with the newcomer around. Fallon ate upstairs, clearly the most uncomfortable with the situation. Perhaps even more than Jasmine and Maggie. For once, the young woman sat next to Glenn and his companion, eating her food ever so quietly and murmuring to the dark haired farm girl. "I really love that color on you, Jasmine," she remarked. Jasmine could tell that she was trying to distract herself from the situation.

"Thank you, and the sweater's so soft. You'll have to borrow it some time..." she replied, taking another bite of her soup. She wished that Maggie could make bread like she had so long ago. They had found flour, and although they were shy of some ingredients, it had been refreshing to have something solid. Thankfully the deer that Daryl had managed to track down was enough to tied the group over for the evening, having been soak in the beef broth. Maybe she would teach her to bake next time. If there were a next time.

Speaking of the archer, the young woman turned her eyes up to gaze upon him. He was settled with his elbow propped up on the arm-rest to his right, his fingers gently placed upon his lips as he stared into the crackling fire. He seemed to be entranced by it, completely down for the count as he watched the flames dance and flicker. Jasmine followed his gaze, quietly swallowing what she had been chewing. She began to feel drowsy, her lids becoming heavy. Her dark lashes fluttered, and for a moment she felt as though she may fall asleep. It was then that she tore herself away from the warm hearth. Jasmine's attention turned to Rick, immediately landing upon the darkening bruise upon his cheek bone. She only hoped that it hadn't been left by who she thought it had been- unfortunately, she had a sneaking suspicion that she was correct to think of Daryl.

It upset her stomach, but she finished the rest of her soup. "I think it would be best if I turned in early for the night," Jasmine excused herself. Everyone offered their own farewell as she parted for the evening, taking to the upstairs floor after discarding her dirty bowl. Her mind overflowed with thoughts of how Rick could have received that bruise. Something was tearing the two apart. When she had first met the two, they had been thick as thieves, but now... now they were torn apart. The tension was getting to not only her, but to the rest of the group as well. Even Judith seemed to be a bit wary around her father and the archer. The idea of the little baby was what honestly seemed to send some sort of signal to tiny Judith. She began to fuss as she wandered by.

Jasmine smiled solemnly and entered the room, crossing to Judith's crib. Picking her up, she began to bounce her, resting her on her hip. The little girl began to play with her hair, babbling softly to the young woman as she quietly spoke to her, as if understanding her strange words. Taking her to the washroom with her, she began to comb out her blonde little curls and dress her in her pajamas for the evening. It didn't take her long before Jasmine was finished, too, her hair up in a small ponytail and her face washed. Hoisting Judith up from where she had sat her down temporarily, she carried her to her own bedroom, nervous of what might happen if she left Carl to watch her for the night with a stranger in the house.

Fuck, they were goin' at it. The bed was clearly creaking, the sound audible from even downstairs. Daryl was helping Maggie finish the dishes, scrubbing and rinsing until his hands were wrinkled from absorbing too much water. He was just drying his hands when he turned to Maggie. She was staring at him. "What?" he asked, clearly displeased by the attention.

"Somethin' wrong?" The farm girl shook her head, resting a hand on her hip. With a long sigh, she ran a hand through her hair. "How did Rick get that bruise?" she quizzed, her tone completely stone-cold. Daryl remained silent, then gave a little shrug and finished drying his mits. He let out a mumble, something along the lines of 'I dunno', shrugging his massive shoulders. Placing the towel back on the hook upon the lower cupboard.

Maggie shook her head. "Daryl, you can't just leave it at that. I need to know... if there's a problem between you and Rick still, maybe Glenn and I could-"

Daryl turned his attention over to Maggie, instantly defensive. "Listen, there ain't nothin' wrong between us. He's just a dick and he doesn't deserve the respect. At least not anymore. Not until he makes it up to Jas..." Silence filled the space between the two of them. Maggie sighed and shook her head. Drying her own hands, she mumbled her own adieu for the evening, then turned and exited up the stairs. Daryl remained where he stood for a while longer and then shook his head. The archer went to finish the dishes, putting them away in their rightful place.

The mugs he turned upside down, the plates he stacked neatly; the bowls he placed inside of one another. So what if people noticed the bruising? Maybe some would agree with him- Rick had done such a disgusting, piggish thing, why couldn't they accept that? The creaking of the bed upstairs caused Daryl's head to throb. He mumbled something about the two being ridiculously fuckin' loud, and then finished returning the dishes to their rightful places. Abraham needed to fix pretty much all of the bed frames; they were beginning to bother even him. It woke him up every time he tried to roll over, and with little rest, Daryl knew he was even more of an asshole than he usually would be.

Ascending the stairs, Daryl began to make his way up to the third floor, making sure his footfalls were quiet. As he passed down the hall to the bathroom, he noticed that Rick and Michonne's room was wide open, their bed tidy and clean. Frowning, he glanced off toward Emma and Jude's room. No way... there was no fuckin' way that those two old farts were gettin' it on. Shivering, he plodded along the hall and slipped into the bathroom. There, he washed the dirt from beneath his nails and rinsed his arms and face, before he exited down the hall to his own chambers. So if the two of them were banging, where was Jude? Probably upstairs on watch with Rick and Michonne! Or something along those lines. He just knew, from living side-by-side with the little guy that he wouldn't stick around.

Hell, who would?

Blowing out the candle settled in the hallway, he finished for the evening, crossing to his bedroom door. Pushing it open, the archer closed the door behind himself. Daryl tugged off his boots and picked up his duvet from the floor (he must have kicked it off in his sleep the night before), and cast it onto the bed. As he approached and his eyes adjusted, he caught sight of two figures laying quietly upon the mattress. Daryl's heart sang as he registered that someone had come into his bedroom and fallen asleep in his bed. What was this, Goldilocks and the Redneck Bear? Clearing his throat, he was unsure of what to do at this point. Should he turn and leave? A soft sigh escaped the sleeping form, the gentle soprano accents making it clear to as who it was. Even before he knelt on the bed, he had a hunch as to who it was. Why was Jasmine in here with Judith? The little tot was curled up against her breast, Jasmine's arms enveloping her sleepy little form. Daryl reached forward and gently brushed Jasmine's hair from her brow, swallowing nervously.

The woman he absolutely admired was laying there in his bed. She had most likely come here to escape the noise next door to her bedroom... but why was Judith with her? Perhaps she was giving Carl a night off and keeping an eye on her instead... or was she simply afraid of leaving her alone with Ronnie in the house. Frowning, he settled upon the edge of the bed, propping his elbows up on his knees and resting his face in his palms. Running his hands over his face, he allowed them to flatten together as if in prayer, and rested his maw against his index fingers. After a moment of thought, Daryl laid down next to them, being careful so as not to wake them up. Slipping one arm behind his head, he nestled in. Staring up at the ceiling, he listened to their rhythmic breathing, sleeping soundly next to him as if they were mother and daughter. As if the apocalypse had never come, as if the dead had never walked the earth like man.

And even while laid beside the living, he felt like a dead man.