"You want to have a baby – now?" Daryl looked at Rachel, completely mortified.

"I don't mean right this minute," Rachel retorted, thinking it had been obvious. "I meant if we get through all this nonsense, I was thinking… it'd be nice."

"Have you lost your damn mind?"

"I can't spend all my time thinking about this war, okay?" she shot back. "I need something else to occupy my mind, and so I got to thinking about what it'd be like to have another baby."

A lot had happened since the day that Sarah died, almost a week ago. They could not bury Sarah and Axel with the others, so they took them around to the other side of the prison where they could safely bury them. It broke Rachel's heart to have to lay Sarah's body to rest so far away from where Jesse lay, but there was no other choice. Walkers kept finding their way inside the prison yard.

After a visit from an old friend, separated from the group when the hoard passed through Hershel's farm, Rick agreed to a meeting with the Governor. It was an attempt to make peace between the two groups of survivors. It was a good idea in theory, but there was no negotiating with the Governor that didn't result in a loss for the prison. Rick returned with a declaration of war between them and Woodbury.

Everyone took the news of the pending war differently. The great debate of how to react surfaced in conversation as some wanted to stand and fight, while others wanted to run. A decision to stay was ultimately made, so they prepared for battle, using items found around the prison to make barricades. Their supply of guns and ammunition had been restocked after a run. Rick, Daryl, and Merle gave each of the others a lesson on how to handle the new weaponry. It wouldn't be useful if they didn't know how to use it.

Merle had behaved himself well enough to be set free of his cell, but everyone still kept a wary eye on him. Rick had instructed Daryl that it was his responsibility to keep his brother in line. Merle kept to himself most of the time, wandering the building, killing walkers, and returning with items of use. Most of the others tolerated him to the point where his presence wasn't much of an issue any longer. Their energy was better spent in preparation to protect themselves from an outside attack; there seemed like very little time to do much else.

"Can we talk about it later?" He was still looking at her like she had lost her mind. "We got work to do. I want you to be able to use a crossbow. It's quieter than a gun."

"I can shoot it just fine, Daryl," she replied, a little reluctant to return to the task at hand. "The problem is loading the damn thing. I'm not strong enough."

"You just need some practice."

She fumbled with the weapon for a moment longer, a little afraid of getting fingers pinched in the bow string or causing her stitches to pop. Heaving a sigh of frustration, Rachel set the bow aside. "It's too hard. I'll let you be the expert. It's guns, knives, and blunt objects for me."

Daryl snorted and smirked.

"What?!" A smile crept across her lips, welcoming his sudden playfulness.

"Nothing," he lied. His eyes danced as he looked at her, widening his grin.

"It ain't nothing," she insisted.

He chuckled. "It's just funny to hear you talk like that is all – like it's no big deal. You used to hate all that shit."

"Life has changed, Daryl. There's not much choice in it anymore." Rachel replied.

"I just want you to be safe." His playfulness was short-lived as he eyed her seriously now.

"I know that, but you haven't seen what I'm capable of yet," she replied, sensing his concern. "It'll be better if I just use what I'm good at. It's kept me alive so far."

"Yeah, I suppose,' he mumbled, apparently not convinced..

"I'll be safe," she assured him. "I could always ask Michonne to show me how to use a sword – she offered."

"Really?"

"Yeah. She also has some good ideas to protect this place. Will you talk with her?"

Daryl nodded and Rachel smiled.

Each person took a turn on watch, keeping an eye out for any suspicious activity in the woods opposite the prison yard. It was likely the Governor would strike from there again. Rachel had been taking watch in the early evenings. She walked along the fence, scanning the tree line as she went. Hearing the prison door open, Rachel looked over her shoulder. Merle sauntered toward her with a rifle tucked under his arm. "You're relieved, princess."

Rachel rolled her eyes. Merle had always referred to her as princess, but it never sounded friendly on his lips. It always felt like a constant reminder of the social economic differences between their families. It annoyed her that Merle couldn't see passed that, even after she married into his family. Rachel nodded to indicate that she understood and started toward the building.

"Rachel?"

Startled by the sound of her name, Rachel pivoted slowly until she faced the oldest Dixon brother. She blinked and waited, uncertain of what would happen next. The familiar smirk that usually graced his lips was not to be found. He was unusually grim, and this gave Rachel a very unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"I been wanting to talk with you 'bout something," he said very quickly. It all seemed quite awkward for him as well. He shifted uncomfortably from where he stood. "There ain't been a lot of time for it. Do you mind?"

What on God's green earth could Merle Dixon want to talk to her about? The most obvious answer was Daryl. There wasn't much else for them to talk about outside of that one commonality – unless it had to do with Woodbury or the prison. Rachel shook her head, curiosity on the rise.

"Did you know?"

"Did I know what?" Rachel replied flatly when he didn't elaborate, slightly annoyed by his lack of clarity. She watched with some amusement as Merle looked down at his feet.

"I seen them marks on my brother's back when we were in the woods the other day," Merle explained. "Did you know about them?"

Taken aback by the seriousness of the conversation, Rachel stared blankly into the yard, sifting through a series of images that came to mind. This was far from where she expected this conversation to go. It also amused her mildly that he would think Daryl could keep a body full of scars from his wife. Suppressing the sarcastic remarks that she could have replied with, Rachel simply nodded and said, "Yes, of course. Who do you think he went to after an incident? I cleaned him up on several occasions in high school, but he had a lot of those scars already."

"How bad was it?"

"Why don't you ask him," Rachel replied. She had played her role, but they weren't her stories to tell. It actually made her a little sad to hear the concern in Merle's voice, even in those few simple words.

"Shit, Daryl ain't gonna talk to me about it. I didn't even know 'til the other day," Merle said, shaking his head. He turned away from her to assume his patrol. "Forget it."

Rachel knew that this would probably come back to bit her in the ass if Daryl ever found out, but she also knew that a real conversation with Merle Dixon was a rarity. By no means did she think this would lessen the gap in their relationship, but it couldn't hurt to make nice with him this once.

"None of it was good," she started, drawing his attention again. These were some of the most difficult memories from the early on in her relationship with Daryl. That day she discovered the truth about what went on inside the Dixon household was a memory she had kept close to her heart. "I remember two particularly bad incidents though."

"Will you tell me?"

Rachel swallowed nervously and nodded.

The first time Rachel witnessed the aftermath of Will Dixon's drunken rage was the day she mustered up the courage to visit Daryl at his house. He had been missing from school for a few days and Rachel wanted to know why. She waited for a long time outside the house until his father left the property. There was no answer when she banged on the door and shouted for Daryl to open up. Not convinced that the house was empty, Rachel walked the perimeter and peered into each of the windows until she had found him.

He was lying on the bed with his back to the window. It was open so she called in. Daryl yelled at her to go away without evening bothering to turn around. She refused to leave even as he continued to try to drive her off. Looking around the yard, Rachel spotted a crate. She put it under the window, pushed the screen open, and climbed inside the room. It certainly got his attention and he sat up quickly, revealing a nasty purple-black eye that was still swollen shut.

Rachel remembered the way her heart sank at the sight of him. The musings about his family life had always considered town gossip with no real basis for fact, other than Will Dixon's reputation of being an unpleasant man. And she had been far too naïve to truly consider how brutal a parent could be to their child. Daryl's explanation was that he simply had gotten in his father's way. Rachel felt no pity, but horror, disbelief, and sadness by what she saw. It wouldn't be the last time those feelings weighed on her heart.

The second incident happened a few months after the first. They planned to meet in their usual spot – a clearing in the woods some distance from the high school. Daryl was already there when Rachel arrived. He was crying. When Rachel questioned him, he got upset and tried to deny it, but she could tell he was hurt. Once again, she refused to leave him alone and talked him down from the anger he hid behind. When he finally took off his coat, Rachel could easily see that blood had seeped through his white t-shirt. He had a couple of lacerations on his back and one on his chest. That was the first time she saw all the scars, in a variety of sizes, which decorate his back and shoulders.

Daryl had done a terrible job of bandaging his wounds, so Rachel ordered him back to her house to get cleaned up. Her parents weren't home and they had the supplies needed to better patch him up. As they sat in her kitchen, Daryl told her that his father had used a belt this time, catching him a couple times with the metal buckle. Those same feelings of horror and disbelief rocked her once again that day.

"It was horrible, but he wouldn't leave," Rachel told Merle. "Said he didn't have anywhere else to go. So, I told him to come to my house whenever he needed to get away. It helped some, but that wasn't the last time Daryl came to me covered in bruises or blood."

Merle's knuckles had turned white as the grip on his gun tightened with every word of her story. He let loose a few choice curse words and simmered with the rage that had surfaced at the actions of his father. Merle always believed that it was by some fault of his own that his father took his anger out on him. It never occurred to him that his father would turn on Daryl after he left. That was not the life he had wanted for his little brother.

Rachel watched Merle struggle through all the emotions elicited by her memories. It didn't take much to see that Daryl had not been the only one to suffer at the hand of his father. Feeling confident in her conclusion, she refrained from asking, knowing that Merle would probably not respond favorably to the question. For Rachel, the astonishing part was not the realization that Merle had been abused, but that Daryl had been able to keep such a thing from his brother for so long. She had a lot of questions, but knew most of them would go unanswered.

"You really didn't know did you?" she asked after sensing that he had calmed down.

"No, princess, I didn't. I'd have killed that bastard if I'd have known."

Rachel tiptoed into their cell, where Daryl was asleep. He used the time that she was on watch to rest since he was on the first late night shift. Leaning the rifle in the corner, she removed all uncomfortable accessories and clothing. They had pulled both mattresses off the bunks and laid them together on the floor. It was much easier than both of them squeezing into one tiny bed. Rachel slid in next to Daryl, who slowly opened his eyes and groaned.

"Is it time already?"

"No, it's not," she replied, snuggling against him. She kissed his cheek. "Go back to sleep."

"You okay?"

Rachel nodded, grateful for darkness that hid the sadness in her eyes. After telling those horrible memories to Merle, all she wanted to do was hold onto Daryl.

A/N: Thanks for all the support by following this story. I would also love it if you left a review. It's great motivation. This was kind of fluffy, but I'm looking forward to exploring some things with the time gap we've been given in the series.