Winter was crawling by slowly, but the days were somehow passing quickly. Another day, another home secured. This time, the survivors had found an old plantation house still completely in tact. No broken windows, no kicked-in doors. It sat back from the road and seemed like a great place to camp out and, perhaps more importantly after being crammed together in living rooms for months, spread out.

Carl and Beth darted in and out of rooms, in awe of the splendor and the sheer size of it. "Dibs!" they each called.

"Must have been some millionaire's pad, you think?" Glenn asked as he and Maggie tossed their bags into a room across the hall.

"Had to have been," Daryl replied. "Can't wait to check out the kitchen."

"There's a whole lot of berry bushes out back, too!" Liz added. "This'll be a nice place to hole up for a while." She quickly knocked on the trim of a door three times. "Knock on wood," she added cautiously. She handed Daryl her bag and he tossed it onto the bed with his.

"For real," he commented, "who needs a mansion? Someone really have twenty people over all at once? Rich people are pricks."

"You'd be surprised," Liz added. When Daryl's face distorted in realization that she'd been rich once, she laughed at him. "I never had a mansion, thank you very much. I had a cute little two-bedroom house in California, and I stayed with Shane or my parents when I came back to Georgia."

"Forgot you-"

"Me too, most of the time," Liz laughed. "Hasn't helped me a bit during this whole walker thing. Should have been an assassin."

***
The kitchen was hilariously large, in Liz's opinion. It could serve as a restaurant kitchen, or a set for a cooking show. There were two large pantries on either side of the room, and cupboards all the way in between. Some were filled with dishes, pots, and pans, but the rest were stocked with food.

Daryl grinned and started pulling cans and packages and sliding them across the counter. "You for real?" he exclaimed. "Look at all this." Canned goods, unopened packages of crackers and fruit snacks, and bottles of Gatorade and orange juice piled up. He spun and grabbed Liz by the hips and picked her up. "This is the jackpot! Booyah!"

Liz laughed and held on to Daryl's shoulders. "I don't think I've ever seen you so happy."

"You ain't never seen me when I wasn't hungry," he chuckled. Daryl set Liz back down and returned his attention to the pantry. "Here's some of that chocolate stuff Lori likes." He pulled more food down. "Hunt a few times a week to get meat, and we'll be set."

"There's plenty here. Let's have a full on feast tonight," Liz decided. Daryl's enthusiasm was spreading. How long had it been since they'd had enough food that everyone had their own can? Now there was more than enough to last a month and maybe even put some meat back on their bones. "I'm gonna round up Maggie and Carol and we'll get some of this going!" She giggled. "Oh, my god. You're right. I'm so hungry." She grabbed Daryl and kissed him briefly. "It's a good day." She gave his arm a squeeze and flashed him a smile before leaving to find the others.

"Yes it is," Daryl replied as Liz trotted out of the room. He grinned and murmured, "Yes, it is."

The long dining table was filled with bowls of vegetables, a pot of macaroni and cheese, plates of crackers, fresh berries, and cooked meat from a deer Daryl had hunted that afternoon. Laughter lilted to the high ceiling, and a rare joyous aura hung over the group as they ate.

"So what are we going to call this place?" Beth asked as she put a piece of deer meat on a cracker and popped it into her mouth. "Every good place needs a name," she said as she chewed.

"Fort Walker," Carl suggested.

"The Walker Plantation," Beth replied.

"I ain't living on no plantation," T Dog scoffed. "Nuh uh."

"How about The Manor?" Maggie tried as she reached for more creamed corn. "Stately. Safe."

"Yeah," Beth cooed. "That's perfect. That's what I'll call it when I write about it. The Manor," she sighed romantically. "It's the perfect setting for the rest of our lives."

Glenn grinned. "Never thought I'd live in a manor. I must have missed the caviar."

"The Manor," Carl added. Lori gave him a look, but he ignored her.

"I think we all have a lot to be thankful today," Hershel said. "If Rick wouldn't have seen this place, we'd have missed it completely." He nodded his head at their leader, and raised a glass. "To Rick."

"Naw," Rick said, shaking his head as everyone raised their glasses and toasted to him. "Someone else would have spotted it." He spooned himself more macaroni and finished his bottle of Powerade. "We'll need to ration out food in the morning."

"Can't we just enjoy it while we have it?" Lori asked quietly, not daring to make eye contact with Rick. "Carl's a growing boy."

"Best to make it last," Hershel answered kindly. "Better to spread it out than to gorge ourselves for a few days, then go hungry again."

Lori fell silent and stared at her plate.

"That don't mean nothin' for tonight," Rick said to her. "Have some more. You need to eat." He held out the plate of deer meat to her. "For the baby."

Lori nodded and took another strip of meat. "Right."

"Too bad there wasn't any wine," Carol sighed. "That would have made this the perfect meal."

"Last time you had wine, you stood on the coffee table in the living room while everyone was trying to sleep and kept singing Liz's songs," Glenn chuckled. "It's funny now, but it wasn't so funny then."

Carol blushed. "You looked like you needed entertained," she added as everyone laughed at the memory.

Daryl and Liz exchanged a brief, sheepish glance. They'd missed the performance as they were fooling around in the back of Liz's pickup before a herd of walkers wandered through and interrupted.

"She was pretty good," Beth giggled. She turned to Liz with wide, excited eyes. "Maybe we'll be your back-up singers. We'll start a band."

"Liz Clarke and the End of the World-ettes," Glenn said in an announcer voice.

"Stop," Liz said bashfully. "Eat your food. Leave me out of this. Let Beth be the singer She don't need me.." She popped a handful of berries into her mouth.

"So I suppose it'd really embarrass you if I told them what we used to play when we were kids, huh?" Rick suddenly chimed in, a mischievous grin on his face.

"Rick. No," Liz commanded, pointing her finger at him. "I know what you're thinking. Keep your mouth shut or it's not just walkers you'll have to worry about." A thousand memories of growing up with Rick flashed through her head, and she didn't want the group to know about any of them.

"Ten year old Lizzy would-"

"No!" Liz cried. "Rick!"

"Shh," Daryl said, "I wanna hear this."

"I know this story," Carl said, a smirk on his face.

"You better not tell it," Liz said. "I'm gonna give you a swirlie."

"Toilets don't work," Carl replied. "Ha!"

Rick pulled out his authoritative sheriff voice to squash the chatter. "Little Lizzy would put on these little concerts for the neighborhood kids. She'd get up on the picnic tables at the local park and pretend it was a stage," he said, trying not to laugh as Liz buried her face in her hands. "But she'd only do it on one condition: she made me and Shane act like her bodyguards. Once some red-headed kid had a crush on her and she just hated him, so,"

"Jordan Smith," Liz added. "He was the worst. Ugh. Still hate him."

"So she stopped her song and demanded that we take him away the second he showed up," Rick chuckled. "The worst part is that we roughed up poor Jordan because we were having so much fun being bodyguards. All the kid did was show up!"

"I wonder how if he tells that story now," Carol laughed.

"Probably," Liz giggled. "Shane knocked one of the kid's baby teeth out! His mom came over to our house that night and our parents grounded us for so long."

"They even grounded me. And that was the end of Liz Walsh's performing days at the park," Rick replied. He popped another piece of meat in his mouth and sat back, satisfied with his contribution.

"Ah, shit!" Daryl exclaimed. "Walsh is your last name, ain't it?"

Raising an eyebrow, Liz replied, "You don't know my name?"

"Uh oh," Maggie sang out. "Didn't you let her stay in your tent back at the farm? Ain't you two a thing? And you don't know her name? Do you even know this strange woman next to you?" She elbowed Daryl in the side. "I'm kiddin'."

Liz laughed. "Well, he's the only one who didn't call me 'Hey, it's Liz Clarke' the first time he met me."

Daryl smiled. "Everyone else had already told me that 'Hey, it's Liz Clarke.' I think Glenn ran around to everyone's tent sayin' that."

Glenn stared at his lima beans. "I delivered pizzas before this. I'd never met anyone famous. It was the most exciting thing that had happened to me up until that point! I'd have given anything to talk to you without getting tongue tied." He held his hands up and shrugged at Maggie. "Hey, honesty is the best policy, right? This was way before we got to the farm."

"Should have done what I did," Daryl replied. "I just ignored her 'cause I knew I'd make an ass of myself."

Everyone laughed again and finished dinner, continuing to tell stories and enjoy the company and food.

***
Darkness fell quickly, but Daryl found old half-burned candles in one of the numerous hallways closets. He lit them on the dresser, kicked off his boots, and laid back on the bed, surprised at how strange it felt to rest on a bed after months of sleeping on the floor, recliners, and pull-out couches. A knock came and the door, and he opted against getting up to answer it. "Yup."
Liz spilled in. "Sorry. Couldn't remember where we were, and didn't want to barge in on Glenn and Maggie – again. I've seen more of both of them than I ever wanted to see. Did you know Maggie has a tramp stamp? I'm assuming Hershel doesn't know about it," he added.

"How many tattoos you got, anyway?" Daryl asked as Liz pulled off her boots and dug through her bag for a pair of sweatpants to sleep in.

"Ah, five? Six?" Liz sat down on the bed and rolled up her sleeve. "Got this when I was eighteen," she said, pointing to a compass on her wrist. "Thought it was so cool." She pulled her hair back and touched the back of her neck. "Arabic for 'be strong.' Then here behind the ear? Arrows."

"Fitting," he replied, "seein' as you're an archer now."

"Weird, huh?" Liz asked. "I'm no archer, but I happen to know a pretty good one." She grinned, then said, "Now come the secret tattoos."

"I've seen them all," Daryl replied flatly.

"I guess everyone's seen them all, huh?" She made a face. "Thanks a lot, GQ. Well, fine, since it's not a secret." She pulled off her shirt and turned. "Left side. Constellations all swirled together. Orion's Belt. Scorpius. Polaris and the Big Dipper." Liz turned, and noticed Daryl's eyes were glued to her body. "Right side? My dream catcher, then this sweet thunderstorm. Too bad they're so close together. Looks weird."

"Looks perfect," Daryl muttered. He touched the dream catcher. "Hurt?"

"Hurt like hell. Worst decision I've ever made in my life." Liz pulled up the fabric on the side of her bra and looked at the ink. "Maybe not. I love it. Okay, it was worth it." She turned and looked at Daryl. "Let's see yours. You know the rules. I showed you mine." She winked.

"You've seen mine," he replied.

"Yeah, but I don't know the stories. What do they mean?"

"That ain' fair," Daryl said. "You didn't say what any of yours meant. I could see what they are."

"You just learned my name. I can't go sharing all of my secrets in one night." Liz reached out for his shirt. "Shirt off. Tell me."

"Get out of here," Daryl laughed, squirming away from her grasp.

"Show me!" Liz giggled as she snagged a handful of his shirt and tugged at it.

Daryl let Liz pull off his shirt, then grabbed her hips and pulled her onto him. She was still laughing when he pressed his lips to her collarbone. The shock of his warm breath on her skin sent a tingling sensation through her body and she gasped in surprise.

Her skin was warm under Daryl's lips. The months of waiting had made this worth it. No longer did doubt seep in when he watched her from across a room. Liz loved him. He could feel it. Whether it was the constant danger they faced, the small pool of eligible suitors, or some other reason Daryl couldn't discern, Liz had definitely chosen him. Had he stood a chance against her advances? Maybe not, but he was pleased with the arrangement.

"Mmm," Liz moaned softly as he worked his way to her shoulder, peppering kisses and soft nips along the way. Her bra strap slipped down her arm. Anticipation rolled over her in waves; an electric buzz hummed in her hands and breasts. She rolled her head back and closed her eyes. "How have we not done this?" she breathed.

"We have," Daryl replied. "The CDC." He explored the side of her throat with his lips once more and felt a sense of accomplishment when he felt goosebumps rise along her skin. His hands were on her back, and he let them drop to her ass. At long last, he thought, he would slide off those damn cut-off shorts that had tortured him all summer. He pulled Liz closer against him and felt himself pressing against the denim of his jeans uncomfortably.

"It's a damn shame I don't remember," Liz said breathily.

"Mmm." Daryl reached around and unhooked her bra. He noticed it was the same lacy black one she'd worn out in the bed of the pickup. As it fell aside, he pulled back and looked at her, his eyes half-lidded in desire.

Liz took the opportunity to unbuckle Daryl's belt and throw it to the floor. Her hand brushed across his bulge and she bit her lip as another wave of desire hit her. She nodded her appreciation as Daryl slid his jeans off. A blush rose in Liz's cheeks as she studied his body. She'd been with men before, but none, not even the movie stars who worked with personal trainers on a regular basis, had looked like him. Daryl's abs were dangerously sculpted and his muscles seemed to point down to his erect manhood. "God bless Georgia," she mumbled as she reached to pull off her shorts.

Daryl shook his head. "Let me." He slid the shorts down slowly, letting his fingers caress her legs. When the cutoffs had joined his jeans on the floor, he took a deep breath. As candlelight danced across the room, Liz's porcelain skin seemed to glow. Everything about her was perfect. He pang of some mushy emotion in his chest, but it was quickly replaced by the strong lust he'd barely been able to control. "Jesus. You're-" he trailed off and took in her body.

"Not what you expected?" Liz breathed, hoping he wasn't disappointed. Suddenly self-conscious, she crossed her arms loosely to cover breasts. "I mean, they airbrush all of the photos at the shoots I -"

"You're perfect," Daryl cut her off. He pulled her onto his lap and laid back, his hands lingering gently at her hips. He wanted to roll her over and make her scream his name, but it had been a long time since he'd been with a woman and he worried that he'd hurt her. Liz wasn't a stick, by any means, but she certainly wasn't as strong as him.

As if reading his mind, Liz smirked. "Think you're gonna break me?"

"Don't want to-"

"Take me." Liz reached down and tried to pin his arms above his head. He resisted and instead, snatched her wrists and held her. "I can handle you," Liz said flirtatiously. "After all, you've told me a dozen times that you trust that I can handle myself because you trained me." She bent and sucked at his bottom lip. "So give me the full experience."

In a flash, Daryl firmly flipped Liz onto her back and entered her. "Yeah?" he breathed as he pushed into her. "That how you want it?" He studied her facial expression and determined she was enjoying herself as much as he was.

Liz's legs trembled and she gasped for a breath. "Yes!" she hissed. She wrapped her arms around to his back and sank her nails into his skin. Daryl moaned and began to thrust harder. Liz tipped her hips upward and moaned again as he slid into her deeper. "Fuck, fuck," she cried. "Daryl. Ah, Daryl!"

Daryl closed his eyes and felt the thoughts clear from his mind. Liz felt incredible around him and under him. She was slowly, inadvertently dragging her nails down his back and the sting was a perfect contrast to her wetness. He kissed her neck again as she moaned his name and bucked her hips against his.

When Liz came, she trembled and began to laugh – the giggles bounced around the room and crashed off the walls, breaking the silence.

"What's so funny?" Daryl growled in her ear. A moment later, her tightness ended him as well. He remained inside of her for a moment before sighing in delight and collapsing next to her.

Liz immediately pulled his arm over her waist and she stared at him dreamily. "One of my girlfriends said something before I left California and it came true." She brushed her hair back from her sweaty forehead and smiled at Daryl, who was equally as sweaty and disheveled.

"And?"

"I told her I was coming home to find me a good Georgia man, and she laughed and said it would happen when the dead rose."

Daryl laughed and pulled her against him and kissed the top of her head. For the first time in a long time, the undead outside were the last thing on his mind.