Nora abandoned Michonne's presence on a mission to find this raging Beastie, allowing Andrea and her flushed cheeks of embarrassment to pass by her in attempts to convince her that nothing was wrong.

"Beast!" She called out as she finally caught up to him. "What th'fuck just 'appened back dere? 'Eard lots'a shoutin'."

Daryl had barely made it to his cell block when Nora's voice echoed down the empty hall. Typical nosey Lenora Brannigan. The brunette didn't even bothering to stop in his tracks, like usual, brushing off Nora's curiosity and appearing to be callous. "Ain't none'a ya business, Leprechaun! How many damn times I gotta tell ya?" He shot back at her, irritation present in his tone as he hurriedly collected his weapons and other various items he might need on his journey out of the prison.

"It is when ya start actin' like a right git to t'e ones I care about, yah fuckin' arse, now quit yer walkin'!" She shouted back defiantly, cutting in front of him. "What's it gonna be now, aye? C'mon. I almost die comin' back, ya don't give a shit. I get some pain, ya show a little sliver of kindness, den it's back ta bein' a dick. What'll it be, Beastie?" She tilted her chin up defiantly, beginning to mock him. "Back off, Leprechaun, ain't none'a yer business? Oh! How about, out or somewhere! Because I'm Daryl Dixon an' I don' give two shits about anyone's feelin's but my own because I'm a badass crossbow-wielding, heartless son of a bitch? Any o'those work for yah?"

The hurt showed. Even though he'd stayed with her through her healing, watched over her... he just turned his back again like she meant nothing. She didn't know why it was killing her so much. She didn't know why she kept caring, even when she had it in her mindset that he couldn't care less.

There was something in the way he spoke to her that day that kept her going. Something that called out to her. Something that... had faith in her strength.

She'd forgotten what that felt like and she wanted to hang onto whatever fraction was left of it.

"After all we've been t'rough... I'm ready for whatever you've got, Beastie. Give it yer best shot."

Maybe proving that she could take whatever he shot at her would help boost whatever self-esteem she had left.

Daryl froze at his position by the door of his cell, his eyes narrowing as they met with Nora's. It was probably the first time in a week he had actually looked directly at her face for more than a second. He flexed his jaw, his brows pulling together in frustration as he listened to her mock him. Pain was in her eyes. It had been present there ever since the Redneck had distanced himself from her the moment she came back from Woodbury.

"WHADDYA WANT FROM ME?" He finally blurted out, frustrated and fed up with it all. Daryl had gone too long holding everything inside, bottling everything up until it was flooding over. How did he even begin to try to explain to Lenora how he was feeling when he wasn't even sure of it himself? He shook his head, his bottom lip folding inward as he nibbled on it before turning his back to her, tearing his sights from her so that he didn't have to deal with her looking at him that way. "Dammit, Leprechaun!" He growled, his hand throwing his sheathed hunting knife across the room. Daryl shook his head, his eyes lowering to the ground as he listened to her tough act. Give her his best shot..?

There was a long drawn out silence between the two of them after she had spoken those words. A silence that was uncomfortable. One that made every second feel like a minute. "…I'ma failure.." Daryl finally stated quietly, unsure of if she had heard him at all. He pressed his lips together for a moment, his head rising slightly.

"Ain't one person in this world I ain't screwed up with." He paused briefly. "Merle…Sophia…Hershel...T-Dog…even some worthless sons of bitches I came across 'fore this group…" He turned his head to gaze at her. "Then you…" Daryl averted his eyes back to the floor.

"…I ain't ever known what it's like t' have someone depend on me…not even Merle…" Daryl pressed his lips together slightly, his crystalline hues lifting to meet Nora's. "But this group, you guys…closest thing I ever had t' a real family…"

A heavy sigh emptied from his lips as he bravely lifted his gaze to meet hers. "I kicked my own ass for the longest tryin'a convince myself that you were dead n' there wasn't a thing I could'a done." He paused again. "…And then ya came back n' it's like I…got this second chance, y'know?" He lowered his head again, his eyes focusing on his crossbow that had been gripped in his right hand. "Don't much like the idea'a failin' ya twice…"

She froze; her boiling blood beginning to be replaced with a whole new type of adrenaline that she couldn't quite comprehend. Here was the stone-cold statue of a Beastie - and he was crumbling right before her very eyes in the midst of her cruelty. She didn't feel any sort of accomplishment - no type of triumph. Instead, she felt... sorry. She felt upset with herself and her cold, heartless words.

He was vulnerable. Open wide with his cards on the table and here Nora was the one bluffing effortlessly. Finally, she saw what life was like through his eyes. But a fraction of lowered walls and all of him came pouring through the cracks of his withering foundation and now she was neck-deep in it.

She had opened her mouth several times to say something... anything that would make her guilty conscience a little lighter. But once he had finished his speech, she knew that her conscience would have to wait. For now, all she felt was the dire need to comfort him in any way possible. And with people like Nora and Daryl... actions always spoke louder than words.

Before she could stop herself, her feet closed the space between their bodies, leaving barely a fraction of breathing room. Nora reached for his free hand; the very one she had cleaned when they had shared their first moment outside of the barn Randal was kept in. She didn't know what the hell she was doing. Her heart hammered so loudly against the marrow bars of her ribcage that she was almost positive that it would burst through, flop into Daryl's hands and pray he keep the gentle nature he now portrayed.

At a turtle's pace, she lifted his hand, guiding it to cup her cheek and feel the warmth that arose to it so quickly; to feel the life that still flowed through her veins. To feel that she was there and that his second chance was far from ruined. Perhaps, even, a third might be in order.

Her eyes corseted shut a moment, savoring the feel of him while she could. The familiarity of whatever touch she could muster. Then her eyes opened, seeking his own in a tightly locked stare. Time stood still... to the point where she barely realized that she was steadily guiding herself up onto her tiptoes.

Her limbs shook in fear of being pushed away; of being humiliated by him once again. But in her heart, she knew that if she didn't trust her instincts, she would forever wonder.

She reached up to slowly weave her slender fingers around the base of his neck to guide him a bit more forward.

"Ah mhuirnin..." She murmured as she began to shut her eyes once more, her breath washing over his mouth before she leaned in that small amount and planted the most innocent and chaste of kisses upon his lips. And though the tender lock lasted no more than a few seconds, it felt like an eternity.

Her first kiss.

She pulled back, but pressed her forehead to his a moment.

"You ne'er once failed me, Daryl Dixon." Her voice was frightened. No more than a whisper in the midst of the most vulnerable state she'd ever been in.

And just like that... she pulled away. As though she was burned by his very touch. She lowered her head so he wouldn't see the fright in her gaze before she turned on her heel and began making her way back to the group.

He felt exposed; completely naked, after having spoken so openly about his feelings. Not once in his life had he ever had the courage or strength to really speak truthfully about his thoughts or feelings. And even though it wasn't much, it was still a big deal to him to have done so. His blue orbs locked with Nora's as she silently moved to close the distance between them. Her silence did not help his cause, but her eyes were even more frightening to the Redneck. He had witnessed it before in her eyes, some time ago. And when her soft, delicate hand moved to collect the very hand she had tended to once before, he remembered it had been that he had seen this look in her eyes. As she pulled at his hand, he allowed her to guide it to her face, where he felt her softness. His calloused hands tingled from the feeling of her warmth and he understood her reasoning of her action. She was alive. She was breathing. She had not died and she had no intentions of leaving him. He had watched as she closed her eyes, seeming to enjoy the feeling of his rough hand against her cheek. Almost as if it was a comfort to her in some way.

When her eyes opened again, she slipped a nervous hand around his neck, pulling herself closer to him. Daryl's crystalline hues moved to look down at her face, unsure of what the hell he was feeling. It was new. And though he was frightened like hell, he did not push her away. Instead he allowed her to murmur to him in that soft tone, feeling her breath upon his lips as she did so, knowing full and well what she was about to do. He closed his eyes and when her lips met with his, he felt the tenderness of them. His lips moved against hers, showing Lenora that he had nothing to regret in her actions. When she pulled away, his eyes remained closed as he felt her forehead against his.

A quiet moment of peace resting upon them before she gently spoke those words of assurance. Those simple words that rejuvenated him and returned the strength to him that he felt he had long since lost. His eyes opened as he felt her begin to move away from him in a hurried manner, as if he had done something wrong.

A look of confusion twisted itself upon his features as he gazed at her and before she had even taken a full step from him, his hand shot out to snatch her by the wrist. "Don't." He spoke, quietly. His expression having grown completely soft; a look that she, nor anyone of their group had ever seen him wear before. Daryl was never the type to seek comfort from anyone, but for once in his life he didn't want to be left in solitude. There was too much going through his mind and he just wanted someone to be there…even if it was only for a little while.

The tension between the two strong souls seemed to be enough to destroy the prison itself. Nora almost felt suffocated by it. She could still feel his lips gently moving against her own. It was like still feeling the after-effects of being in the waves of the ocean for too long. She even swayed slightly when he caught her wrist.

But the moment she had braved herself enough to meet his eyes, she was caught under his influence once more. Her defenses dropped the moment he said that one word. The look on his face was like nothing she'd ever seen before. It nigh tied her organs in various knots and her stomach almost fell into her shoes. She could feel his touch burning her, shooting tingles up her arm with more sensations than she knew how to handle.

She had half a mind to kiss him again. Harder. With a passion that was sure to convince him that he was stronger than he thought.

Instead, she responded by weaving her captured hand into his own protectively, giving his larger fingers a timid squeeze to reassure his worries. He wouldn't be alone. Not as long as he didn't want to be. Slowly, her cerulean hues raised to meet his own and she kept them there.

And finally, she smiled.

For once, Nora Brannigan smiled. And it was brighter than the sun, kind and filled with an innocence she never let anyone see before.

"You will find new ways to smile, my child." Her father had once said.

He was right.