The mood in the prison was electric. There was a palpable energy in the air; a combination of aggression, anticipation and excitement. After watching the town discreetly, they had finally seen the Governor. They had always been certain that this was where he was hiding his little band of mercenaries but until they saw him in person, there was little to no point attacking. The primary objective was to kill him.
Extensive scouting meant they knew the layout in precise detail. Luck or skill had also ensured that the Governor seemed unaware of their discovery. It had been easy to elude his guards and their patrols. That didn't sit well with some of the soldiers. They thought there was a good chance it was a trap. Mara wasn't so certain. She wasn't completely blind to that being a possibility but she had met the man himself. She had encountered his arrogance firsthand. The Governor was living in a land of delusions. His title wasn't merely a moniker anymore; it had become his personality. In Mara's opinion, that was their advantage.
Divided as they were about whether this town was an ambush or not, everyone was in complete agreement about the need to strike. Deep down Mara knew this was the right thing to do but now that the moment was almost here, she felt sick. In a few hours, they'd be attacking and, hopefully, killing the man that had tormented all of them. At first she had cheered with the rest of them but then her eyes landed on Daryl, his jaw set with determination and the excitement vanished. Fighting for a cause made it so easy to forget that there might be consequences. Would be consequences. People were going to die and Mara wasn't naive enough to believe that hers would escape unscathed. Not anymore. She had just as much chance of dying as everyone here. And if she survived, then she would mourn whoever hadn't. If Daryl died, she didn't know if she would survive regardless of whether she was alive or not.
The prison was a flurry of activity and she was glad because it hid her retrospective thoughts. No one noticed except for Daryl. He was conditioned to notice her now and she knew he was too observant to miss her mood swing. But he gave her space and the only indication that he was aware were the slight narrowing of his eyes with concern.
Eventually though, all the jobs were done and all the plans set. Rick had told people to get some sleep. They were going to attack at dawn. Dark enough to obscure them but the walkers would have started to settle down by that point. They would rile back up as soon as they heard the gun shots but if they even got a few moments of respite then that would be a boon.
They shared a meal and the joviality was slightly forced. The reality was starting to set in for all of them. By tomorrow, some of the group would be missing. There was a notable absence of farewells though because nobody wanted to jinx themself.
Mara's stomach felt tight and she had only managed to force herself to eat a few bites of food. She knew that she would need some substance in her system when they began to make their way towards the town. It sat in her belly like concrete. She'd never had to say goodbye to anyone before, at least not knowing that she'd never see them again. Mara had never really been at a loss for words but right now, saying anything seemed woefully inadequate.
People were still trying to pretend the underlying tension and fear wasn't running like an undercurrent through the community. They were over compensating with humour and boisterous behaviour. Mara used that as a distraction to slip away.
She inexplicably wanted a shower. There was a day's worth of hard work, sweat and dirt clinging to her body. If she was perhaps going to die tomorrow, she wanted to die feeling like a person. The shower block was silent and cool. Mara started the water. Their improvements to the prison had given them hot water. Not a lot of it but enough.
Mara tugged her shirt up over her head. Just as it fell to the floor, she heard the door open quietly behind her. Someone entered but they didn't speak and that was enough to tell Mara who it was. Or maybe she was just so in tune to him that she knew Daryl by instinct.
She finished getting changed and stepped under the water. Her eyes fluttered closed as the water sluiced down her skin. For a long moment, Mara just stood there, face turned upwards, enjoying the pressure of the water against her skin. The heaviness of the cascade seemed to penetrate all the way down to her taut muscles, easing them somewhat.
A rough hand made contact with her lower back. It travelled neatly up her spine until the fingers curled gently into the base of her neck. A second followed almost the same path but took more deviations to knead at the muscles in her back. Mara didn't know if it was for her benefit or if Daryl was charting her skin to commit it to memory, she didn't care.
Mara stepped back into the circle of his arms so that her bare back was pressed against his torso. His chest hair felt coarse against her skin but familiar all the same. She wasn't short enough that she could tuck herself under his chin but she still felt small and protected. She leaned her head back against his shoulder, his jaw brushing against her temple softly.
Daryl splayed his hands flat on her stomach, his thumb making small circles just below her waist. His deep, steady breathing resonated through his body and into hers. Matching that pattern was soothing and gave her something to concentrate on.
Daryl bent forward to press an innocent kiss to her shoulder. What had started out as comfort became something else entirely. Mara's breathing was no longer even and she exhaled with a shudder. Mara turned so that they were facing each other now. Her palms were flat on his upper chest and Daryl hands rested just above her elbows.
She looked up to meet his eyes and was struck by how much love she could feel for one person. The thought of losing him made her heart thud painfully. Her pulse was no longer isolated; it spread through her until her whole body seemed to throb. She wasn't ready to give this man up. She'd probably never be ready but not tomorrow. All at once, she swore, she prayed, she promised. This night would not be the last night for either of them.
As if he sensed what Mara had just done, a sad smile crossed his face. "I love you," he said simply. Then he lowered his head to hers. Just before Mara closed her eyes and accepted his kiss, she saw something that resembled pain flash across his face and she knew he was thinking the same as she was. That is was too soon to end.
Then Daryl was kissing her and it was wonderful at the same time it hurt. It tore through her body like fire, leaving her raw and aching. Mara's hands slid up until they cradled his cheeks, his stubble scratchy under her fingers. She pulled him closer to her. Even though their bare skin was touching it still didn't feel close enough.
One of Daryl's hands caught in her hair, tugging sharply. Mara gasped with pain and pleasure. Daryl shoved her up against the wall, need making him abandon gentleness. Then his mouth slanted over hers once more and any pain was forgotten. Mara pushed against him and was met with Daryl's own forcefulness.
Her fingers dug into his shoulders sharply, she could feel his skin give under her nails. His hands ran down the back of her thighs before he lifted her up, wrapping her legs around his hips and supporting her weight with the press of his body against the wall. Mara struggled against him but it was only token resistance, a symbolic invitation for Daryl to dominate her, a declaration of trust.
Daryl's lips brushed against her collar bone, the feather light touch a direct contrast to the sensation of him entering her in one frantic motion. Mara cried out, uncaring of her volume. Mara wrapped her arms around his neck, arching her back and using her leverage to push him deeper.
The water, all but forgotten, had gone cold. When the freezing droplets landed on her skin it made her body jerk. Daryl groaned against the skin of her neck and Mara forgot that she could be cold. There was nothing hesitant in the way Daryl took her against the wall, no gentleness. Their love had become a hungry thing, as if the intensity of it needed to manifest into something physical.
The warmth pooled low in her body and little trembles began to show in her muscles. Mara tilted her head down and kissed Daryl madly. The warmth spilled out in a sudden dramatic explosion, bowing her back. Mara could have sworn she saw stars. Daryl had picked up a punishing pace that would be sure to leave bruises but Mara couldn't feel any pain as she slipped into a boneless kind of bliss. Daryl bit down on her shoulder, stifling the moans of his own release.
They stood like that for a while, Mara still held by Daryl and his head resting on her shoulder. Both were trying to slow their breathing and the frenetic beating of their hearts. Eventually Daryl carefully lowered them both to the ground. He shifted until his back was against the wall and he was cradling Mara.
Mara's heart felt too large for her body. All of her emotions seemed to be sitting on her chest, stirred up by what they had just done. Resting her face against his chest, his skin slick from the water, Mara started to weep. Daryl's arms bound her tightly to him and he held her while she cried.
...
Daryl wanted to spend the rest of the night with Mara, at least what was theirs to have. However, when she fell asleep, clearly exhausted from the sex and the crying, Daryl couldn't sleep. He was restless and hated waiting around on the edge of a fight. Certain that he wouldn't disturb her, he gently disentangled himself from her. The prison was dark and almost silent. He could hear murmured conversations and even the sounds of someone doing exactly what he and Mara had done earlier. But it wasn't coming from Glenn or Maggie's cell and so Daryl allowed himself a brief moment of amusement and speculation.
Glenn was outside and he was sitting next to Michonne who was cleaning her Katana. Daryl guessed this was what soothed her considering the blade was spotless.
They both looked up at his appearance. Daryl eased himself down next to Glenn.
"Couldn't sleep?" Glenn asked.
Daryl shook his head. Glenn smiled sympathetically. "Me neither. Maggie fell asleep like that." He clicked his fingers to emphasise the speed his partner had drifted off.
"Weird," Daryl commented. Michonne snorted and it might have been a laugh.
Daryl had brought his cigarette packet out with him. He regarded it solemnly. "Y'know, if we survive tomorrow, I'm gonna quit."
"Good for you," Glenn said encouragingly, ignoring the most obvious point. There may not be a tomorrow for any of them.
"Good thing it ain't tomorrow," Daryl added, selecting a smoke and placing it between his lips. He offered the pack to Glenn, who hesitated and then took one. Daryl was a little surprised when Michonne reached out to take one with her slender fingers.
They passed his lighter between the three of them until they were both sitting there with smoke curling from the cigarettes.
Glenn took a deep draw and then made a face. Daryl could tell he was trying to disguise his displeasure and restrain a cough.
"I do not like this," Glenn confessed but he didn't grind it out. He took another drag and seemed to hold that one better.
Michonne held it easily between her fingers. She looked comfortable smoking and Daryl would guess that at one point or another, she had been a smoker.
"Got another?" a voice asked from the dark. Christine emerged from the shadows. Daryl hadn't even heard her approach.
Daryl tossed her the packet and Christine caught it deftly. She opened it and then shot a look at Daryl. "It's the last one."
Daryl shrugged as Glenn said, "He's quitting."
"Seems like good timing," Christine said. She sank into a cross legged position across from the other three. The night was still and there was only the occasional groan of a walker.
"Wanna take bets on who dies tomorrow?" Glenn asked, trying to joke.
"Well I've always been surprised Yussuf made it this long," Christine noted. Daryl chuckled, he couldn't help it. It was the most morbid conversation but the absolute casualness they were talking with was strangely hilarious.
"I'd rather take bets on who will end up killing the Governor," Daryl pointed out.
"Michonne got closest," Glenn observed. "Maybe she'll finish the job."
Michonne smiled then and it was a smile that would have chilled Daryl to the bone if he had been the target of it.
"There are more than one person with the right to end him," Christine said. And there was. Maggie, Mara, Rick, Andrea – all of them had suffered at the hands of the man.
"It's probably going to be someone completely unexpected," Michonne suggested mildly.
Christine groaned. "Oh god, if Paul kills the Governor, I'm gonna be super pissed."
"Or that young one, David!" Glenn jumped in, ignoring the fact he couldn't be that much older than the kid he was talking about.
"As long as his dead, I don't care if Dick's the one to take the shot," Daryl claimed. There was a pause and then he ruefully added, "But I hope it ain't him."
The others laughed and then there was a pause in the conversation. Some of the restless tension had eased from Daryl. Sitting here, with the oddest mix of people, he felt almost peaceful. As long as Mara survived tomorrow, that's all he wanted. Even if he had to die to ensure that happened.
AN: Just discovered 'agreeance' isn't a word. How about that! It sounds like it should be a word, until I did a little research. I find it funny people refuse to use it because it doesn't technically exist. I find myself wanting to face palm myself in the face. I want to meet these people and say, "Thank god the majority of people aren't like you because then we'd have seven words to use." How exactly do they think language evolved? A bunch of people made up words, gave them meaning and people started using them! Irrational, unrelated rant over. Sorry everyone.
This wasn't supposed to be a filler chapter, maybe it was, but I want to show the journey these characters are on before we jump right into the action.