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June 6, 1925

Daryl loaded the last crate of moonshine into the bed of his truck and threw a ratty blanket over the crates to disguise them. Zora was watching him from the porch. She looked as though she had seen better days. Her makeup from the day before was now smudged around her eyes, and her cheek and lip were swollen and bruised from her altercation with the boys who had robbed her. Despite her disheveled state, Daryl couldn't help noticing how the sunlight shone in her blonde hair, and he scolded himself for finding her attractive.

"Ready to go?" he called to her. She nodded and made her way over to him. He awkwardly wondered if he should open the car door for her, but decided that seemed silly and walked over to the driver's side. She climbed in the truck beside him.

"Do you know how to get to Atlanta from here?" she asked.

"It's been a while since I've been to the city, but I remember."

Zora nodded and turned her attention to the surroundings outside the window as he pulled out of the drive and down the road. Daryl had woken her with breakfast: potato pancakes made from the previous night's leftovers, toast, and a single egg. He had also made coffee, but despite the caffeine, she still felt groggy, probably due to the moonshine she had consumed the night before. Her cheek had turned a nasty shade of purple, and her lip was quite swollen and split. She was dreading the reactions she would get from her father and George. But she tried to focus on the positives: even though she had lost a shipment, she had managed to procure an even better quality replacement. The car situation was still a problem, but Zora hoped that she would be able to borrow George's car until she could come up with the money for a replacement.

The drive from Daryl's house into Atlanta took about forty minutes. Zora directed him to the Five Points neighborhood, and soon they were parked behind Walton's. Zora took a deep breath and turned to Daryl before exiting the truck.

"George, the owner of this place, is probably going to freak when he sees my face," she said, her anxiety prevalent in her tone. "But he's a great guy, and he's known me since I was a baby. He's very protective of me."

"He ain't gonna think I did this to you, is he?" Daryl asked apprehensively.

"No! No, I'll tell him what happened. And you don't need to stick around for that, either. We can unload the moonshine in Walton's and I'll find a way to deliver it tonight."

Daryl nodded and followed Zora's lead out of the truck and in through the back door of the joint. A man looked up from where he appeared to be deep in an accounting book at the bar, and his expression turned to shock upon seeing Zora's face.

"Zora! What on Earth—"

"I'm fine, George," Zora said, holding up a hand.

"What happened to you?" George demanded, standing from his seat and hurrying over to her.

"Picked up an order last night, and some teenage punks stopped me at gunpoint about 10 miles out from the still. Robbed me blind. Took my car and everything. That's how this happened," she explained, pointing to her face. She turned to Daryl. "This is Daryl Dixon. After walking for a couple of miles, I came across his house and he was kind enough to let me stay the night. He drove me here."

George turned his attention to the rough-looking man next to Zora. He looked uncomfortable and unsure what to do with himself.

"That's mighty kind of you," George said. "Thanks for takin' care of her."

Daryl shrugged awkwardly. "Weren't nothin'."

"Listen, George," Zora started, "Daryl here actually makes moonshine. Amazing moonshine at that. Better than any I've ever tasted. And he's been so kind as to sell me what he had on hand. Would you mind if I stored it here until I get my car situation sorted out? I'll need to take most of it to Peachtree Tavern later since it was their order that got jacked."

George gave Daryl a once over before nodding his head. "That's okay by me."

"Thanks. I'm gonna take him upstairs and get him his money so he can be on his way."

George nodded and Zora turned to lead Daryl back outside.

"Nice meetin' you," Daryl called to George as they exited. He followed Zora through another back door in the building next door and up two flights of stairs. She peeled a doormat up off the floor and retrieved a key that had been hidden underneath.

"Good thing I keep a spare here," she said as she unlocked and opened the door. "My purse was in the car that got stolen."

Daryl followed her inside. The apartment was spacious and clean. It had a small kitchen, but the living room was large and well-decorated. Daryl felt out of place in such a tidy room, and he was suddenly conscious of the dried mud caked on his boots.

"You live here alone?" he asked her.

"Mhm," she hummed over her shoulder as she made her way into the kitchen and rummaged through the cabinets. Daryl was surprised that she could afford such a place on her own, but considering her profession, maybe it wasn't so surprising after all. He watched her rip open a bag of flour, but saw that it actually contained a large sum of cash. She counted out a good portion of it and shoved the rest back in the flour bag.

"Count that and make sure it's right. There's money for gas, too," she said as she handed the stack of bills to him. He shrugged and shoved the cash into his pocket without counting it. Zora arched an eyebrow at him and motioned for him to follow her back downstairs.

"We'll just put the crates inside and you can forget this mess," she said with a forced laugh. Daryl gave her a half smile and a nod. He made his way over to the truck bed and grabbed a crate to begin unloading. Zora went back into Walton's and emerged with George, who helped unload the crates. Before long, all were stashed safely inside.

"Thanks again for what you did for Zora," George said. He held out his hand for Daryl to shake. Daryl shook it and George went back inside. Zora turned to him with an awkward smile on her face.

"Well, I guess this is it then," she said. "Thank you. For everything."

"Don't mention it," Daryl shrugged.

"I wish you all the best," Zora said with a smile. Daryl nodded awkwardly.

"Yeah. You too. Take care."

Zora watched as he climbed back in the old truck, the engine roaring to life. She sighed as the truck drove away and vanished from sight. Daryl Dixon was a good man, and she hoped that their paths would cross again.

She made her way back into Walton's to find George observing the crates of moonshine before them. Zora grabbed a jar from one of the crates and walked behind the bar. She placed two glasses on the bar and poured a little shine in each, sliding one of the glasses toward George. He took it and hesitantly took a sip, his eyes widening a little as the liquid burned its way down his throat.

"Damn," he muttered. "Good stuff."

"Told you," Zora grinned, taking a sip from her own glass.

"He may be a bit of a reuben, but he definitely knows what he's doing."

"Says it's a family recipe," Zora shrugged. She quickly downed the rest of the shine in her glass. "Now, could you do me a favor? Actually, two favors?"

"Depends on what you need," George replied with a playful smirk.

"Can I borrow your car to take a delivery to Peachtree? James is gonna be furious with me for not delivering on time last night."

"Yeah, sure, okay."

"And while I'm doing that, can you call Louis and get to the bottom of what happened last night? I think one of his new lackeys was behind it. A teenage kid. He looked to be about the same age as the ones who robbed me. And one of them said something . . . something like, 'It's here like he said it'd be.' Like someone had given them the heads up that I'd be coming that way with hooch."

"Course I'll call Louis. I'll get to the bottom of this. But on one condition," George said. Zora arched an eyebrow in response. "Go see your father. I'm not gonna be the one to explain this to him."

Zora sighed heavily. "Fine." She may as well get it over with. "I'm gonna go upstairs and clean myself up. I'll come get your keys when I'm ready."

George nodded and took another swig of the moonshine. She made her way back outside and up to her apartment. She closed the door behind her and sighed, enjoying the silence. Even though she had actually slept quite well in Merle's dusty old room, she still felt completely beat. She moseyed into the bathroom and began filling the bathtub with the hottest water she could stand. She went to the sink and washed the previous day's makeup off her face, noticing that some dried blood came with it. Zora hoped that she would be able to cover most of the wounds with fresh make up, but she knew it wouldn't fool her father.

She undressed and turned off the taps of the tub, stepping gingerly into the steaming hot water. She sighed as she eased herself into it. The heat from the water relaxed her muscles and made her feel drowsy, but the feeling was like heaven. As she relaxed, her mind drifted to Daryl. He was the exact opposite of the men she usually associated with, most of them being young drugstore cowboys who loved going out on the town and breaking the rules. Daryl was different. Not only was he much older than she, but he also lived in a completely different world. He lived a quiet life in the country and supported his own needs, which she found admirable. She smiled to herself as she recalled his reaction to many of the things she had said the night before. He obviously hadn't had much experience with young women from the city, and she had enjoyed shocking him with her behavior. And she enjoyed the way his blue eyes had studied her time and time again, as if she were a complicated mathematical equation he was trying to solve.

She shook her head and told herself to put Daryl Dixon out of her mind. They would probably never see each other again, and there was no use thinking on him now. Zora grabbed a bar of soap and set about determinedly washing, trying to forget the handsomely rugged stranger who was plaguing her thoughts.

Zora resisted the urge to roll her eyes as her father continued to yell at her.

"How could you have been such a dumb Dora?" he demanded. "If you had taken Frankie with you, none of this would have happened."

"I know," Zora replied in an exasperated tone. "You don't think I've been kicking myself over that since it happened?"

"You never should have gotten involved in this business. It's too dangerous."

"I think you're overreacting," Zora sighed. "Besides, everything has been taken care of! And I got some extra product out of it, so I'd say it isn't half as bad as you're making it out to be."

George had talked to Louis from the moonshine still earlier in the day, and less than an hour later, Louis had called George back to inform him that the situation had been dealt with, and someone would be returning Zora's car and moonshine the next day. Neither George nor Zora had bothered to ask how Louis had dealt with the problem, but they knew it probably hadn't been pretty. Zora had delivered Daryl's moonshine to the Peachtree Tavern as well, and the joint's owner, James, had been quick to forgive her for her late delivery upon seeing her wounded face and tasting the new product she had brought him. Now she was dealing with the most difficult part of her day: talking to her father.

"You think this is all just a game? That what happened doesn't matter 'cause you ended up with more hooch than you started with? Zora, be realistic. This could have been so much worse. And it could happen again down the road, but next time, it might not be naïve teenagers."

Zora nodded. "I know. You're right. I have to be more careful."

"Damn right you do," her father nodded. "And on that note, what were you thinking spending the night at some strange man's house? This Daryl Dixon character?"

Zora's jaw dropped indignantly. "Oh, don't you dare make him the bad guy in this. He came to my aid. If it weren't for him, I would have been walking all night trying to get back home, which is a hell of a lot more dangerous than accepting his hospitality!"

Her father's mouth narrowed into a thin line and he frowned. "I suppose you're right. But what if he'd taken advantage of you?"

"He didn't. So why are you even asking that question?"

He sighed, his anger dissipating a bit. "I just worry about you. You know I'm not gonna stop you from doing . . . whatever it is young ladies are doing these days, but I don't want some ignorant reuben taking advantage of your free spirit."

"You've never even met him. I wish you wouldn't call him ignorant."

"I know, I'm sorry," he relented. "You're all I've got, and I just want you to be safe."

Zora sighed and moved to hug her father. "I will be. I'll be smarter in the future, promise."

He embraced her and decided not to pursue the argument further. He knew his daughter was smart, but she just got carried away with things sometimes. His paternal need to protect her was growing less pertinent as she got older, and he tried to come to terms with the fact that she was grown up and able to take care of herself.

"Don't worry, Daddy," she said. "Everything's ducky."

He sighed, wishing he could believe her.