A/N: Shameless plug alert! I've started working on a new fanfic based on the movie Pandorum, a film that hasn't gotten nearly enough fanfics, in my opinion. The character I'm focusing on, the tragically short-lived Shepard, was portrayed by - you guessed it - Norman Reedus! I think I may be developing an obsession over the guy. Anyhoo, I've already posted the first couple of chapters. Feel free to peruse them.

Okay, shameless plug over. :-P Back to the story.

Thanks for the reviews, favorites, and whatnot!

Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with The Walking Dead.

Marilyn ate as if someone might take her food away at any moment. She hunched over her plate, one arm curled around to shield it from view. Her eyes shifted furtively as she shoveled her food into her mouth. It was nothing Nana and Lia hadn't seen before. Many of the kids behaved this way when first brought in.

"Slow down," Nana chided gently, "You'll make yourself sick."

Marilyn swallowed a large mouthful with an audible gulp. "Sorry," she murmured. Her next bite was more reasonable, and she also took the time to actually chew it.

Daryl leaned against the wall and watched her, having already eaten earlier. The young newcomer's behavior reminded him of his mother whenever the old man was home, wary and mistrustful, terrified that she might do something to displease him. So far, the only time she relaxed at all was when the smaller kids approached her. She'd smile and talk to them without any hint of condescension, thus earning herself the privilege of joining in their games. The older kids, meanwhile, liked the idea of someone else watching over the little ones and giving them some free time. Marilyn was still nervous around the adult women, though, and she avoided Daryl altogether. Not that he blamed her, considering how the last men she'd been with had treated her.

Marco seemed to have formed a crush on the young lady. Wherever she happened to be, he was seldom far away. Not that he openly stared at her or went out of his way to get her attention. The boy was far too shy for that.

Baby Aidan helped to bridge the gap to some degree. Marco still enjoyed taking care of him and Marilyn was instantly smitten by the infant. It wasn't long before others started joking about the three of them forming their own little nuclear family.

Marilyn rapidly filled out as she received regular meals. She was a pretty young woman, her large eyes, long limbs, and close-cropped hair giving her a doelike appearance. It was why she'd gone out of her way to make herself as filthy as possible, the better to avoid unwanted attentions from the men who'd held her captive.

Marco wasn't the only one who would casually show up the same place Marilyn happened to be. Daryl was more subtle about it, though. He always had some kind of plausible task that needed doing and he never once actually looked her way. Plus he kept enough distance between them that Marilyn wasn't made nervous by his presence. Often she didn't even notice he was there.

Lia noticed, though. "Feeling protective of our little stray?" she teased.

Daryl threw her a dirty look. "The hell're you talkin' about?"

"C'mon, Daryl. I've spent enough time with you to know when you're being covert."

Daryl snorted and tossed another squirrel hide on the small pile beside him. He was seated on an overturned bucket, having returned from the woods with a string of dead squirrels hanging from his shoulder. There were two other buckets arranged in front of him. One was for the guts, heads, feet, and tails, while the other was for the meat. With no further signs of the remaining intruders, Daryl's solo hunting trips had resumed. And a good thing, what with game becoming scarce with winter coming in. They needed all the food they could get. Lia had also expanded her leather making skills to preserving furs and she and Nana were working on adding some extra warmth to everyone's wardrobes, lining coats and boots with squirrel and rabbit fur. If all went well, in a few short years they would be able to cut their scavenging trips into the city almost down to zero.

Daryl picked up yet another unfortunate rodent and slit its belly with his knife. Its insides spilled out into the appropriate bucket. "She reminds me of my mama," he mumbled.

Lia's expression was one of sympathy as she sat on the ground beside him. She drew up her knees and wrapped her arms around them. "What was she like? Your mother?"

Daryl shrugged. He added the hide to the pile and dropped the meat into the bucket.

Seeing that he didn't want to talk on that subject, Lia kept silent. She watched Daryl as he continued to clean his kills. She admired the deftness of his square hands, how quickly he worked as if he were a one-man assembly line. Or disassembly line, in this case.

Lia glanced Marilyn's way. The young woman was playing a game of tag with some of the youngsters. "You ever feel that protective of me? That you had to keep an eye on me, I mean."

Daryl gave her a sidelong look. The corner of his mouth turned up in his characteristic smirk. "You jealous 'r sumthin'?"

She met his gaze levelly. "If I was, that'd mean I didn't trust you. And I do trust you. So, no, I'm not jealous."

Daryl grunted. "Woulda been flatterin' if you was."

Lia chuckled wryly. "Men and their egos."

Marilyn herded the children inside for a break and storytime just as Daryl happened to finish off the last squirrel. He cleaned his knife and tucked it back in its sheath, then stood and picked up both full buckets while Lia gathered up the hides. She walked close beside him, their shoulders bumping. "It's nice that you're looking out for her," she said.

Daryl didn't respond, but he nudged her with his shoulder. Lia smiled.

Three weeks later Daryl woke to discover that Sally had once again snuck in during the night and wedged herself between him and Lia. He sighed and seriously considered putting a lock on their door. He got up, tucking the blankets around the toddler's sleeping form, and padded over to the window. He drew the curtains aside, squinting a little, and saw that the first snow had fallen. Not a lot, just enough to create a light dusting over every visible surface. It would most likely melt away as the day progressed. Still, it made him grateful that he was indoors rather than stuck out in some flimsy tent.

Thinking that made him wonder about Grimes and the others. He was all but positive that they wouldn't find anything in Fort Benning. If so, they could still be searching for a place of safety. Daryl wondered if they would take Lia's and Nana's offer seriously and turn back to rejoin them. He wasn't sure how he felt about that possibility.

"Hey," Lia muttered groggily behind him, "See anything interesting?"

"Snowed last night," he replied. He heard the rustle of blankets and the quiet pad of sock-clad feet as she came up behind him. She yawned and leaned against his shoulder as she peered out at the white. "'S pretty."

"And cold."

"We still got some of that powdered drink stuff," she muttered, "Maybe we can collect some of that snow an' make snow cones."

Daryl laughed. "Yer always thinkin' up shit."

"Watch your language," she chided half-seriously, "There's a child present."

Daryl glanced back at the slumbering toddler. "We really gotta have a talk with her 'bout sneakin' in here."

Lia smirked. "I nominate you." They both knew he wouldn't have the heart to dissuade Sally. One look at that solemn little face and his resolve flew right out the window.

"C'mon," he groaned, "Y'know this can't go on. What if she comes in here while we're-" He stopped himself, glanced at the child, "-y'know..." he finished lamely.

Lia giggled, though in fact the same embarrassing scenario had occurred to her as well. "Okay, ya big softie. I'll try to convince her that she should stay in her own bed."

Sally chose that moment to wake. She sat up and rubbed her eyes with her little fists, then blinked up at the two adults.

"Morning, you," Lia cooed affectionately. Daryl gave the child a stern look, then stuck out his tongue. Sally's face split in a broad grin. There was a faint sound. Both adults stared.

"S-sweetie," Lia stammered, "Did you just laugh?"

Still grinning, Sally got up from the nest of blankets and waddled over to the door. She had to stand on tiptoe to reach the doorknob. As it swung open, she glanced over her shoulder, her expression clearly saying are you coming?

Lia shook herself and followed the toddler out into the hall, Daryl trailing behind. As much as she wanted to make a fuss over Sally finally breaking her silence, if only for an instant, she knew that might only put the child under pressure and cause her to shut down again. So instead of making a scene, she grabbed Daryl's hand and gave it a hard squeeze.

Daryl knew how attached Lia was to her kids. Knew she would willingly die for any of them. But seeing how deeply Sally's brief laughter had affected her, it made him feel...not jealous, exactly, but...overlooked. Even now, while she clutched his hand, her attention was focused solely on the little girl toddling ahead of them. He knew he would never get that profound a reaction from her. Lia told him she loved him on more than one occasion, but he knew she loved the kids more. That was why he'd chosen to stay. He knew she would never leave them behind, even if there'd been fifty adults here to care for them. She wouldn't leave, and he didn't want to go without her.

In the kitchen, Marilyn was passing out bowls of Cream of Wheat. She lowered her gaze as she handed one to Daryl, her eyes flicking up to his face as if to search for signs of disapproval. Anyone else would've smiled to put her at ease, but Daryl wasn't like that. If he even tried it would only come off as insincere. He gave a single nod in thanks instead, and that seemed to do the trick. The young woman relaxed a little. Daryl walked away, not noticing how Marilyn stared at his retreating back.

She watched him as he sat beside Lia and ate his breakfast. Despite his care in making it seem like coincidence, Marilyn noticed when he turned up near wherever she was. This had scared her at first, made her wonder if he wanted to catch her alone and force her into doing something other than watching the children to "earn her keep". But that never happened. After a while, she began to think of him as something like a bodyguard, always watching over her.

On the surface Daryl seemed no different than the men who'd kept Marilyn captive for all those months. But as she observed him - mainly through snatched glimpses - she realized he was a different sort of man altogether. Though gruff, he never showed any cruelty towards the kids. He provided things they needed, such as meat and protection from walkers, and expected nothing in return. A powerfully built man like him could have easily overpowered the women and dominated everyone, but he didn't. He treated Nana Shino with deference, and Lia with so much more. Marilyn found her eyes seeking him out more and more often. She told herself it was because his presence, once a source of anxiety to her, now reassured her. But gradually she came to admit to herself it was more than that.

Before the dead took over the world Marilyn's life had been quite different. She'd been a confident freshmen college student who's options in life had been countless and who'd never wanted for boyfriends. Not that she was a slut or anything, but she'd had her fair share of casual dating. She missed that. Missed having a man look at her with desire untainted by sadism. Missed the confidence she once possessed, the ability to flirt and tease and take someone home for a night's fun without commitment. She missed feeling like a whole woman.

Her longing for what used to be finally came to a head not long after the first snowfall. It was late at night. Everyone was snuggled up in their beds with hot water bottles under the covers. Everyone but Marilyn and one other. Burdened with insomnia, the young woman crept from the room she shared with Jessie and Tanya and tiptoed downstairs with vague plans of going to the kitchen to heat up some canned milk. She paused at the foot of the stairs as a sound reached her ears, a rhythmic swish-scrape. Curious and wary, she inched forward until the entire lobby was in view. She saw Daryl hunched over in a chair with a whetstone in one hand and his hunting knife in the other. The swish-scrape was the sound of the blade running across the stone. He paused in his sharpening and cast her a sidelong look. "Can't sleep?"

Marilyn gave her head the barest shake.

Daryl grunted. "Me neither." He spat on the whetstone, then continued honing his knife. The noise only seemed to amplify the silence that stretched between them.

Marilyn fidgeted. "I was gonna heat up some milk," she said in a meek little voice, "Do you...Would you like some?"

Again, he stopped and looked at her. The corner of his mouth twitched in a smirk. "Do I look like the kinda guy who drinks warm milk?"

Heat rose in her cheeks. "N-no..."

Daryl uttered an amused sound in the back of his throat. "Relax, I'm just messin' with ya. I wouldn't mind some, since yer offerin'."

Relieved, she nodded and hurried to the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with two steaming mugs. Daryl set his knife and whetstone aside and accepted one of the mugs with a nod of thanks. Marilyn hesitated, then took a seat in a nearby chair. Both sipped from their mugs, one relaxed, the other anxious.

Daryl sat with his elbows on his knees, eyes apparently riveted to his beverage. "You don' hafta be scared o' me, y'know," he said abruptly.

Marilyn blinked, startled. "I'm not scared of you. N-not that much, anyway," she amended. She set her mug down on an end table and hugged herself. "I just don't know how to act anymore."

Daryl's blue eyes regarded her with something like sympathy. "Sumbitches really did a number on ya, huh?"

A brief, humorless laugh. "Yeah. I...I wasn't always like this, y'know? I..." she sniffled, "I used t' be pretty."

"Yer still pretty," he said quietly.

She bit her lip. "I don't feel that way. I feel broken."

Daryl sighed, drained his mug and set it aside, then got to his feet. He returned his hunting knife to its sheath and picked up the whetstone and slipped it into his pocket. "I'm gonna turn in. Thanks for th' milk." He started to walk away.

Marilyn jumped to her feet. "Wait!" She moved into his path so suddenly he nearly bumped into her. She stared up at him, pleading. "Don't leave. I...I don't wanna be alone."

Daryl frowned, he opened his mouth to protest.

"Please don't leave," Marilyn begged. Her hands went to his broad chest, spidered up to the collar of his shirt. "Please." And then she pressed her mouth to his.

Daryl stood rigid, too startled to push her away. Her soft lips moved against his with desperate insistence, and despite his better judgment, he began to respond. Daryl's eyes fluttered closed and his mouth parted of its own accord. His tongue slid forward and met hers. Marilyn whimpered and pressed herself against him, her plush curves fitting the contours of his body so perfectly. His large hands rested on her hips as if they were made to go there. She was so different from Lia, so young and delicate, so sweet and what the fuck was he doing!

"Jesus!" Daryl jerked violently away from her. He backed away, tangling his fingers in his short hair. "Fuck."

Marilyn stood with her hands over her mouth, her wide eyes threatening to overflow. The first tears spilled as she pulled her hands away to sob, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Daryl stared at her. He was utterly lost as to how he should handle this. He wished Nana or Lia was here. Hell, even one of the kids. Anyone but him.

Marilyn continued her litany for "I'm sorry," as her weeping grew more intense. It was if a dam had broken and all the pain and fear and self-loathing came pouring out. She looked so forlorn, like his mama after the old man had slapped her around. Daryl felt an ache in his chest. Tentatively, uncertain this was right, he went to her and put his arms around her. Marilyn pressed her face to his shoulder and cried like a heartbroken child. And Daryl let her, because he knew this was what she needed.

That inner sense that told him someone was watching drew his eyes towards the stairs. Lia stood there, watching him and Marilyn with sad eyes. She met his gaze for a moment, then nodded in a way that said they would talk about it later. Then she turned and went back upstairs, unnoticed by the sobbing girl. The ache in Daryl's chest grew with the knowledge that Lia had witnessed that moment of weakness when he'd given in to Marilyn's kiss. But he pushed aside his guilt to deal with the young woman's distress. It seemed like hours before her sobs gradually quieted. When he gently pushed her away he saw her eyes were swollen and puffy. Her tears had left a sizable wet patch on his shirt.

"C'mon," he said in his least gruff voice, "Let's get y' upstairs."

Marilyn didn't resist as he led her up the stairs and to the door of her room. "Thank you," she muttered, exhausted.

Daryl patted her shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. "Get some sleep."

The young woman nodded and entered her room without another word. Daryl took a deep breath, let it out, then turned and headed for his own room. It was dark inside. He fumbled for the lantern and filled the room with its weak light. Lia lay on the mattress curled on her side, back to him. Daryl put away his knife and whetstone, then went to kneel on the mattress beside her still form. He rested a hand on her upper arm. "You awake?"

Lia rolled onto her back and sat up, knees drawn up to her chest. Her eyes were downcast.

Daryl swallowed. "Lia-"

"It's alright," she interrupted, her voice subdued, "I'm not mad." But she was hurt. He could see it in the way she wouldn't look at him.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay," she insisted, "I understand. It wasn't your fault."

He took hold of her shoulders and turned her towards him. "Look at me."

Her eyes stayed down.

Daryl took her chin in his hand and lifted her head. "Look at me, goddamn it." The harsh words were offset by his quiet tone. Lia slowly raised her eyes to meet his. Daryl's face bore a mixture of sadness and regret. "I want you t' look at me, 'cuz I'm only sayin' this once. I ain't ever gonna be with another woman but you. Yer th' only one I'll ever want. What happened downstairs was a mistake 'n' I wisht you'd never seen it. I swear I'm gonna spend th' rest o' my life makin' it up to you, if that's what it takes."

"Daryl-"

"I love ya, Lia."

Her face crumpled, tears fell from her eyes. "I love you, too. I love you so much."

Daryl drew her into a kiss, one deeper and more meaningful than what he and Marilyn had mistakenly shared. It wasn't long before they were making love. Their bodies moved together in perfect accord, hand stretched above their heads, fingers interlaced. When the eventually drifted down from their climaxes they lay with their arms and legs entwined, faces so close their breaths intermingled.