The dawn is breaking

A light shining through

You're barely waking

And I'm tangled up in you

Yeah

I'm open your closed

Where I follow you'll go

I worry I won't see your face

Light up again

Even the best fall down sometimes

Even the wrong words seem to rhyme

Out of the doubt that fills my mind

I somehow find

You and I collide

Trish drifted back into consciousness just as Daryl was leaving. She vaguely remembered hearing someone shuffle around their corner of the room, but she didn't fully wake until she noticed that she was curled around a pillow instead of a warm body. How long did you really expect him to stay, she asked herself. Sure, they had their little moments now and then, but he'd never openly expressed any interest beyond that first night. Every time the opportunity had presented itself, nothing happened.

Not that she had done any pushing of her own. Trish had been trying so hard to not let anyone get close to her, and that included Daryl. But he had been there, keeping her out of the hands of strangers, and crawling into bed with her when he very well could've left her buried in blankets to fight off the cold on her own. That had to count for something, even if he had eventually left.

She let out a soft curse as she sat up and choked on a cough. With one hand at her temple and one hand on the bed to support her weight, Trish closed her eyes as she waited for her lungs to settle and the room to stop spinning. Her stomach was painfully empty, something she would need to remedy as soon as possible. But first, clothes.

The closet had been left open and she could make out a pile of dry clothes. It wasn't difficult to sort out what was hers and what was Daryl's…wait, what's his stuff doing here...and Trish made short work of pulling on the khakis and hoodie. Warm socks that tickled her feet and a pair of clunky black boots that were a pain in the ass to lace and tie. She blessed whoever had dropped a hairbrush and a ponytail holder into the bag as she pulled her curls into a messy bun at the nape of her neck. Not an outfit anyone would've expected to find her in, for sure, but it was warm and comfortable.

"Are you decent?" she heard Carol say from nearby. The woman's timing was almost uncanny.

"Yeah." She noticed her side-arm and knife on the desk and went to pick up the latter.

"Ok. I heard you rustling around over there. Everyone else has gone to the main hall for supper. We didn't figure you'd be up for a while, but I didn't want to leave you alone."

"Thanks," Trish replied, stepping out from behind the curtain while she clipped the knife sheath to the waistband of her pants. "Supper sounds good." Her stomach growled as a point of emphasis, which drew a smile from both women.

The main hall was attached to the makeshift garage, if memory from her initial visit with Glenn served correctly, and when they got outside, she was thankful that the rain had finally stopped. There was just enough moonlight to see their way without having to resort to a flashlight, but Trish imagined this wasn't such an easy task on darker nights. There was a sentry on the roof, and he nodded in acknowledgement as she and Carol made their way up the steps to join the rest of those who had gathered.

Trish noticed him immediately. Off by himself, sulking over a plate, but his eyes rested on her as soon as she walked in the door. He had a haunted look in his eyes, as if his thoughts were anywhere but in the dining hall. There was a brief flash of warmth as Daryl lifted a finger and pointed across the room, but shut down again as soon as he knew she had gotten the message. But when she turned to see what he had been pointing at, Trish's heart skipped.

At first glance, she thought she was hallucinating. There was no way. Not after having found LeAnn. But that Antonio had not only made it out of Jacksonville, but was now here? The boy she had practically helped raise, all the way from Miami. Now standing in the midst of a circle of Vatos from Atlanta.

Her feet knew to move forward even if her mind was still in shock. Trish picked her way through the tables, ignoring the looks that everyone was giving her as all conversations stopped. Like Daryl, he had known the moment she came in, and had been closing distance from the other side. She crumbled into his arms, choking on her sobs, which sent her into a fit of coughing.

"Hermana, you should be in bed," he told her, acting as if it hadn't been two months since they had last seen each other. Antonio led her back to his table, where someone promptly shoved a bowl of broth and a hunk of hard bread in front of her. Looking up, it was Jorge, the tall Vato with the bandanna and shoulder length hair that had tried to help her when they first arrived.

"She needs to eat. Too skinny."

"More cushion for the pushin'," someone nearby teased, and Antonio glared up at the speaker as Jorge blushed.

"La Maquina took me in off the streets, gave me a job, found me a home. You talk your shit again, I'll let her cut your tongue out herself when she's feeling better." That. That was her Antonio. Always looking out for her. Sometimes she wondered who had saved who when she found him wandering downtown with his crack head mother all those years ago.

Everything had been happening so fast. Finding LeAnn's nearly-unrecognizable remains amidst a crowd of walkers. Finding Antonio, alive, amongst a group of friendly strangers. Collapsing into bed with Daryl. As soon as it popped into her head, Trish's gaze drifted back towards him, only to meet that same confused, thoughtful stare he had been wearing when she came in.

"What are you thinking?" Antonio asked quietly, leaning over so they could have a semi-private conversation. She tore her eyes away from Daryl to look at the boy who had become like a brother to her. It wasn't a secret that she had been curled up safe and warm in a bed with the grouchy redneck, but Trish knew that Antonio wasn't about to let her make any of the same mistakes she had back in Miami.

"I'm trying not to," she replied, finally picking up her bread and dipping it in the broth.

"How's that working out for you?"

"Not so well." She stole another quick glance at Daryl and flushed as she caught him watching her again. What the hell? This isn't high school.

"He's a tough one. You need to let him make the moves. Work it out at his pace. Just be there to catch him when he falls, Hermana."

She knew what Anthony was talking about, but couldn't quite figure out how the young man had been able to understand the very thing she had been struggling with less than an hour before. Maybe it was just a guy thing. As she finally tucked into her meal, tuning out the voices around her, Trish thought, but will he be there to catch me?

Daryl could scarcely take his eyes from her after she had arrived in the dining hall. He witnessed it all. The tearful reunion with Antonio. The way she seemed to be perfectly comfortable surrounded by the Vatos. She understood them. They joked with her, even if he couldn't hear what was said, and Antonio was an overwhelming presence beside her in spite of his young age.

He had been so focused on Trish that he hadn't heard a damn word about what had happened to the gang in Atlanta, or how they had come by the colony they now occupied. She had glanced his way a few times, but what did it mean? Seeing her with the others, how they had warmed up to her almost immediately. That was the world she fit into. Not his ragtag group of mismatched survivors. It was like a knife in the gut as he realized how different they really were.

Daryl couldn't stand it anymore. Being in that room with everyone around him talking and chumming it up while he sat alone. He didn't need any of these people. They could all stay here. Have a relatively comfortable life. He could get out, go look for Merle, get back on the road on his own. Hell, Trish had done it…

It was the last thought that decided him. Looking down at his empty bowl, Daryl shoved it aside and got up from his seat. He had to get away from her before he got in over his head. He slipped silently through the main hall and out the door. Across the courtyard, into the dorm. But when he had finally reached the top of the stairs, he heard the squeak of the door in the common room followed by a hacking cough.

"Fuckin' woman," he heard himself say as he paused. Trish cursed, coughed again, followed up by the sound of her feet falling softly on the steps. "That was about stupid," Daryl told her as she reached the last stair and came into sight. "Probably just earned yourself another day in bed for that."

"I'll be fine soon enough," she replied, looking up at him coolly. He hadn't expected that reaction. But if it was a fight she was looking for, Daryl's blood was up and he was tired of holding back. As much as he didn't want to do it, he needed to push her away for her own good.

"We ain't got 'soon enough.' Need to be back on the road and your dumb ass is just making yourself worse by running over here. And what for? To ask me to come back and be a part of something I'll never fit into? This ain't no place for people like me. It's for people like you. And Antonio. And the Vatos."

"Why does it always have to be 'us' and 'them?'" she spat back. "This isn't that world anymore. They're not my people any more than the others are your people. There's the good, the dead and the ugly. No in-betweens."

"So you sayin' we should all stay, Maquina?" Her street name was like poison to him, and Daryl cringed at his own use of it. "Or did your familia tell you to ask the redneck puto to leave?"

"I came to find out why the fuck you've been staring at me all damn night."

Something in Daryl snapped at her words. Talking wasn't working. Pushing her away wasn't doing any good, either. Damn that woman to a million hells. Fighting with Trish just made him want her more, and in the blink of an eye, he was pressing her against the wall. One hand gripped her by the hip, the other curled around the back of her neck as he crushed his lips to hers.

He couldn't think. He was tired of thinking. Daryl had known kissing Trish was going to be the turning point, but in that moment he just didn't give a shit anymore. He poured all of his frustration into her, and Trish matched it, sliding her hands up to his shoulders to bring him closer. But when he pulled back for a gulp of air and heard the catch in her throat as another cough began to surface, Daryl stopped and his head cleared. He waited for it to pass as she buried her face into her arms and leaned against him. When the spasms passed and her body stopped trembling, he crouched to pick her off the floor.

"Come on, City Girl," he murmured in her ear as he carried her down the hallway. "Let's get you to bed. Need you in shape to ride."

**lyric credit** "Collide" by Howie Day