Hello all! Long time no see. I am very sorry for the extreme lateness of this chapter, but school and work caught up with me, taking up most of my time. I promise to be on time with the next one. I know this chapter is considerably shorter than my other chapters, but I wanted to get this one out to you and without throwing too much drama so quickly. Things will start picking back up plot wise in Chapter 21 which I am eager to start writing on immediately. I have missed you all and look forward to hearing your opinion on this long awaited chapter.

I would like to thank those who reviewed Chapter 19... Katnthe Box, NRIASB, thewalkingdestroyer, missy7293, igottoomanyloves, DarylDixon'sLover, and hippielicious.

Please read and enjoy! And thank you to those who have reviewed, favorited and followed my stories and myself. I am very appreciative to have your time and interest.

Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead or the characters. They belong to their respectful owners. I only own my OCs. I am just taking literary liberties with them.

Chapter 20

Rick walked through the cell block, the colors of the once black night finding color from the ever rising sun. His body was tense for the fight ahead, the fight that was surely going to break out between groups and families. This meeting was going to go bad…or very badly. There would be no good to come from the discussion of Jeremy's fate. There were some who were dead set on his punishment while others were holding out on the kid, thinking there was still good left in him. Maybe Rick was being short sighted and hypocritical, but he knew what it was like to fall into the darkness and never return, but he had returned. It was those moments that had him rethinking his gung-ho desire to pop a bullet into the kid's head. No one tried to lock him away and kill him after Lori died. They let him try and fix himself. Then…he remembered the Governor, how he never seemed to change even after Woodbury fell. He was still out for blood, wanting to kill him and his family. There was a man who could never return to the light and Rick's gut told him that Jeremy wouldn't ever stop until he was successful and he couldn't risk the safety of his family or his group which included MaryJane. So, he already knew his vote and when it came to the final decision, not everyone would accept it easily.

The former cop stopped outside the door of the cell, resting his hand on the butt of his pistol, gazing at the man who was holding the hand of the unconscious form on the bunk. Pity curled in his heart. He'd been in his position before.

"You comin' to the meetin'?" He asked, his voiced gravelly.

Daryl lifted his head and glanced at Rick, those dark blue eyes tired and ancient. To Rick, he looked years older than he really was.

"I ain' leavin' 'er again." He rasped in reply.

The fully bearded man nodded slowly, understanding, and began to turn away when Daryl's voice stopped him.

"E'erybody already knows what I'd vote, Rick."

Without looking back, the leader swallowed, nodded and walked away, his boots clicking against the concrete floor.

"What other choice do we have?" Con asked sternly.

"We can do anythin' but kill 'im!" Katie yelled, pacing across the library, her husband standing away from her, the couple at odds.

It felt like a war zone in the library, Merle and Rick felt like soldiers in hostile territory, not knowing if they should retreat or hold their ground. Instinctively, Rick's hand twitched near his pistol. The adrenaline from the yelling was making the nerves of oncoming walkers start revving up. Even Merle was feeling on edge despite his usual cool in tense situations having been in the military and all. Though, he had to admit it felt odd not being the one with the family problems that quickly resorted to yelling. And the older Dixon couldn't help but feel a little stunned, Katie never seemed like the type of lady to yell.

"He brought those men in here to kill us, moma! He ain't that sweet boy we all knew in the beginnin'! He tried to rape MaryJane!" Emily cried from beside her father.

"Emily!" Katie cried at her daughter, exasperated.

Why was her daughter turning her back on him? He was like her brother!

Rick stayed back, his eyes moving between the torn family, loyalties and morals clashing like the mighty Titans in Greek mythology. While Rick wasn't really in the council, everyone still considered him their leader and the ultimate decider. Though, he felt this was beyond him. Jeremy wasn't a part of his group and it tied his hands. It wasn't his decision to make, but he made it his business when someone attacked a member of his, a woman he considered his sister. Yet, the cop side of him knew that it was best to let the other group of friends work out their own internal loyalty issues. However, he was silently agreeing with Con and questioning Katie's reasons for sticking up for the kid when the fact was that he tried to hurt MaryJane in the worst way possible.

"Don't 'Emily' me, Moma! How can you stand there and defend him? How would you feel if he did it to me?" She shouted back, her pretty face growing pink with frustration.

Katie crossed her arms stubbornly. "I would still forgive him."

"Even if he woulda been successful in infiltratin' tha Governor an' his posse inta the prison and killed ya withoutta second thought?" Merle snapped viciously, Katie's eyes shooting to him in surprise.

Rick glanced at Merle, then to Con who laid a gentle hand on his wife's shoulder, breaking her attention from a fuming Merle.

"I know how you feel 'bout tha boy, but he's done somethin' we woulda condemned bafore. Why's it 'cause we're in an apocalypse that ya totally ferget wha' ya stood against when tha world was normal?" Con asked softly.

Merle watched Katie melt under the older man's soothing voice and eyes. He could see the tenseness in her slip off her shoulders and a shamed frown tug her lips down.

"He's jus' a kid, Con. He jus' needs help." She pleaded desperately, grasping at the hand that wasn't on her shoulder.

He needs a good swift kick in the ass. Merle thought disdainfully.

The rancher sighed heavily. "There ain't a one o' us that's a shrink, darlin'. What he's got's been there since befer his Moma and girlfriend died. We've all gotta apocalypse aftermath from what we've seen and done. What's 'appended now, tha evils he's done is that new face now."

Emily nodded, stepping up beside her mother, placing a comforting hand on her small bicep. "He's right, Moma. This is tha way he is now...and that's never gonna change. He may've been decent before the world croaked, but that's not who he is. He's turned into a monster."

Tears sparkled in Katie's eyes as she fully began to accept and realize that what her family was saying was true. Merle and Rick both could see that she had been in a state of denial, but maybe this time she wouldn't turn around and deny the truth. Rick understood, right then, why. A mother loves all her children, no matter their faults or their actions, no matter how violent or sick they may be.

Silence ruled the room except for Katie's sniffles as she thought deeply. The cop and one-handed man glanced at each other nervously, both tensing with the anticipation. With what felt like hours, rather than minutes, Katie looked up at her husband then to Rick.

"We don't have ta kill 'im, do we?"

That, right there, was the million dollar question.

Consciousness played on the backs of MaryJane's eyelids, her mind and body slowly becoming aware of themselves. Her eyes fluttered briefly, her neck turning in the slightest. Nerves in her face twitched, the signal shock from her brain traveling down her spine and into her once numb limbs. Her right hand twitched, her mind instantly recognizing the feeling of something heavy and warm inside it. Instinctively, her weak fingers curled around whatever the gentle object was. She felt fingers, a hand, curled around her own and her legs moved against the mattress under them. The movement she made caused a familiar, deep voice to erupt from the ringing silence in her ears.

"MaryJane?"

Who is that? Why does his voice sound so familiar? She fought against the heavy pull of her eyelids, wanting to see who owned the voice. Turning her head towards it, she slowly opened her eyes, her vision blurry, and the image before her unrecognizable. With slow, deliberate blinks the haze began to fade, the blurry thing before her morphing into the face of a man, a devilishly handsome man. Her brown eyes locked with his blue ones and adoration leapt into her throat when her mind registered who owned those forget-me-not eyes.

"D-Daryl..."

Her mouth snapped shut upon hearing the deep, raspy struggle of her vocal cords. Pain erupted in her esophagus making her cringe and she swallow, hoping to soothe the ache. Instantly, the tracker leaned closer, placing his free hand on the crown of her head, smoothing her hair back.

"Shh, darlin', don't say a word, 'kay? Ya got smoke inhalation and that's why yer throat 'urts. Hershel said ya ain' supposed ta talk fer a few days."

Her brain still a little jumbled, she blinked, slowly processing what he said. Her body relaxed against Daryl's menstruations, grateful that he was letting her figure it out at her own pace. He waited with a great amount of patience, his heart racing in his chest. MaryJane glanced around the room, taking in the familiar details before a sudden itch in the back of her throat had her thrown into a coughing fit that sounded like death was warming over. Panicked, Daryl snatched up the cup of water Beth left and used his free arm to loop under MJ's back to pull her into an upright position. She weakly helped him, his warmth growing closer as he climbed in the bunk beside her, propping her against his chest, placing the cup at her lips. Yearning for relief to the itch, MaryJane's shaky hands grasped the cup and began sipping the drink quickly. If it hadn't been for Daryl's steady hand the liquid would've been all over her torso, her hands trembling over and around his one. When the cup was empty the painful coughing subsided, but the sound had alerted the resident's doctor who rounded the corner and came hobbling into the cell, his blue eyes alight with joy.

"You're awake, I see, MaryJane." He plopped down into the stool Daryl had occupied, taking the cup and sitting it on the bedside table.

She opened her mouth to reply, but Hershel held up his hand and shook his head.

"I wouldn't recommend speakin', not fer a few days. All you need to know is that you'll make a full recovery within a week at most...but fer now your job is ta stay right here and rest. No doin' anythin' ta over stress yourself. Doctor's orders."

MaryJane nodded weakly, feeling a wave of exhaustion rushing over her at his mention of rest, making her lean deeper against Daryl who silently relished in the long lost and missed physical contact.

"We'll get ya another water jus' in case ya start coughin' again. If ya need anythin' one of us will always be here." He glanced at Daryl knowingly. "So if you need me they'll come get me."

Nodding again, she smiled at him and mouthed 'thank you' to him. He placed a gentle hand on her arm and smiled back.

"You're welcome." Grabbing his crutch, he stood. "I'll leave ya ta rest now. If ya need me, Daryl, ya know where I'll be."

MaryJane could only imagine that the man she was leaning on nodded because Hershel left the cell, pulling the curtain as he went. They sat quietly for a few moments before Daryl frowned. Regrettably, he slid himself from behind MaryJane, slowly lowering her back into a lying position on the bed. In panic, her small hands snapped out to grasp at his body, wanting him to stay there. This was the first time in weeks since she was able to touch him and feel his warmth physically. She was desperate for it not to end and be left in the cold again. She was absolutely sure he would leave her again and the thought was too painful to bear. Her fingers clung to his hand as her head hit the pillow, her slowly glazing eyes trying to stay focused.

"Easy, darlin', I ain't goin' nowhere. I ain't gonna leave ya again, I promise."

She squeezed his hand in silent thanks and he returned it and her heart leapt in her chest at his declaration. Maybe he'd forgiven her. Maybe he'd seen that she wasn't to blame. Hope ignited in her chest, her lips turning upward into a smile. Closing her eyes, she relaxed into the bunk, allowing the darkness to take over her and succumb to sleep.

The youngest Dixon brother watched as her breaths grew deep and heavy, signaling that she'd fallen asleep. Relieved, he gently pulled his hand from hers, turning to lean his aching back against the wall next to her head. He blinked his own tiredness back, not wanting to take his eyes off of her lest something happened. His eyes fell to MaryJane's hand, sitting alone and open on the bunk, her fingers still open from where she had grasped his hand. Guilt twisted in his gut and yearning had him rethinking not staying directly with her like he'd been when Hershel came in. God in heaven knew Daryl wanted to hold her again, he just didn't know what was holding him back from doing it. Had he lost his balls?

Clenching his jaw, he averted his eyes to the floor, wanting something to do to occupy his mind. However, he wasn't about to leave MaryJane. The soft click of boots and the swish of the curtain opening suddenly became Daryl's saving grace.

The figure stepped into the cell, eyes landing on MaryJane instantly.

"She alright?"

Daryl nodded. Pleased, Rick stepped further into the cell and leaned against the wooden desk across from MJ's slumbering form. They both watched her for little while, both knowing there wasn't a way around the elephant in the room. While Daryl knew that Rick was concerned about MaryJane's wellbeing, he knew that it wasn't the reason he was there.

"What'd they say?" Daryl whispered in his gravelly voice.

Glancing at the floor, Rick swallowed, his eyes flickering to MaryJane before landing on Daryl permanently.

"We can't kill 'im—" Daryl bristled instantly, but Rick held up a hand to stop him. "—but we ain't gonna let 'im stay either."

Pissed, Daryl snapped back. "Wha'? So he gets a free outta jail card? A slap on tha wrist jus' 'cause Katie can't see how sick he is?!"

Shaking his head, Rick replied. "Nah, he ain't gettin' out scotch free. Ya know I wouldn't stand fer that."

Lifting his arms in a 'So?' manner, Rick was forced to elaborate.

"We've kinda hit a crossroads. Half's thinkin' exile, others are thinkin' o' what he's done and they're wantin' death...but we all agreed on one thing."

Daryl's brows furrowed in frustrated confusion. "Wha'?"

Rick pointed at MaryJane. "It's gonna depend on whether MaryJane will fergive 'im...and what she perceives is just punishment fer 'im."

Not all pissed, but not all pleased, Daryl asked: "Who decided that? Ya say 'we', but..."

Sighing, Rick set his palms against his thighs. "Katie did."

The tracker's eyebrows furrowed further under his bangs. He half chuckled in bewilderment and his friend nodded.

"Yep, that was my reaction too."

"Why would she do that? She's all gung-ho 'bout keepin' the little bastard alive and well."

Rick nodded. "Some things were said that finally made 'er see the light. She feels that MJ'll take pity on Jeremy an' spare 'is life."

Daryl grimaced and the former cop made an empathetic facial expression. "Whadaya think she'll decide once she's better?"

Turning his dark blue eyes to said woman, he sighed, shrugging heavily. "Shit, I dunno. She's always been tha forgivin' type...always tryin' ta see the best in people and help try and give 'em a second chance."

The ex-cop studied Daryl's face as he spoke, a softness in the way he spoke about her, the way he described her made Rick's gut get a feeling. It was almost like Daryl knew those things to be facts.

"You speakin' from experience?"

Dixon's head turned and their eyes locked. The expression on Daryl's usually unreadable face said everything that Rick needed to know. Nodding, he looked at MaryJane, gratefulness and admiration spreading through his chest. It was because of her that Daryl was who he was. Without her who knows who he might've been. From that moment forward, the conversation had ended and Rick left, but not before briefly patting MaryJane's calf. When Rick's form left the cell, Daryl's blue eyes found the sun that was peeking through the windows. If only Rick really knew just how much MJ's second chance meant to him emotionally and mentally. No one could understand what it truly felt like to get a second chance at life until they had one. He'd only recently come to realize just how many he'd been getting in his life.

And it was one thought that began to haunt him. Eventually, his second chances would be up.

Daryl woke with a start, a jolt of pain in his lower back breaking him from the peace of sleep. Groaning, he arched his back, his head pressing against the wall as he stretched the sore area, the motion relieving the strain. With a deep huff he settled back against the wall, glancing around him with mild confusion. His eyes landed on MaryJane who was lying beside him in her bunk. It was dark out, the day before having dragged by. No pun intended. A faint, adoring smile spread softly across his lips, his heart elating with fondness. Turning his head back he yawned, the ache returning to his lower back making him cringe and stretch an arm around to rub the tender spot.

He forgot how painful it was to sleep sitting up.

All off a sudden, a soft tapping on his forearm had him jerking, the touch making his skin crawl, his mind immediately pulling up a walker. Grunting in surprise, he jutted his head towards the touch and froze. MaryJane laid in the darkness, her eyes hazed with exhaustion, but they were focused on him.

"Did I wake ya?" He asked in a gravelly whisper.

She shook her head and dropped her hand on the open spot next to her, patting it invitingly, hope glimmering in her eyes. Daryl eyed the spot momentarily, yearning to go to her like she was asking him to. In years past he wouldn't have needed to be asked twice when she beckoned him to her bed. But now it was different, the situations had changed and the strong nostalgic feelings of unworthiness resurfaced. After everything he did to her, how he treated her she was still asking for his presence and touch. He was far from deserving her forgiveness despite his silent desire to have it. Daryl didn't feel that he deserved to hold her, to share the bunk she occupied. He was below her, like he always was, but here she was, inviting him to rest beside her like it was the old days. God, he wanted it! He ached for it!

Ignoring the overwhelming emotions, he shook his head. "Nah, I'm fine."

Her eyebrows curled, her lips falling into a frown, her whiskey colored eyes glaring hurt at him making his gut churn. Though, he heart leapt when she patted the spot faster and more insistently, her face hardening in an almost ordering fashion. Deep inside, he chuckled. That was his MaryJane. Never taking 'no' for an answer.

"Really, babe, I'm fine." He insisted, shifting in the stool, wincing slightly at the numb ache in his butt.

Her eyebrows lifted, her lips pursing as if saying 'Really? I can see that you're uncomfortable, Daryl.' Then, seconds later her expression softened and grew extremely sad, Daryl's insides melting at the familiar look she got when she was really getting her feelings hurt. He'd seen it multiple times in their youth and once again he was the reason for it to be there. Damn, she knew how to work him and knew which buttons to push. His gaze flickered to the space where her hand rested, the ache in his muscles growing more pronounced, his limbs screaming out for relief and each second he stared at the mattress the louder it got. MaryJane's expression didn't help the situation either. Seconds later he caved, sighing and cursing under his breath. As he stood from his stool, he caught a glimpse of the bright smile that spread across her face at his agreement. Kicking his boots off, he stripped off his vest and knife belt, setting them on the desk before turning towards the bunk to see her turning on her side, scooting back towards the wall to give him more room.

Touched, he watched as she pulled the sheets back that would allow him to slip under. His chest elated as he approached the bunk, an excited anticipation building up in his body. Sitting down gently on the bunk, he slipped his feet under the sheets and laid back, his head hitting half of MaryJane's pillow. Daryl nearly tensed when she scooted closer to him, turned on her side towards him, her hands resting gently on his arm, resting her head close to his shoulder. She closed her eyes, a smile on her face. The tracker's hands itched to reach out for her, to return the gentle touch she bestowed so eagerly on his arm, her warm breath grazing against his shoulder. Would she mind? Would she kick him out? Taking the gamble and giving in to his wants, he turned on his side, facing her and wrapping his arm around her waist. As he began to pull her close he felt her slide towards him instinctively. His heart thumped powerfully against his ribcage as her hands came to rest on his flannel shirt clad chest, resting her face in his neck and the top of her head touching the bottom of his chin. He felt every inch of her petite form line up against his, their bodies fitting together in the way that made Daryl think of puzzle pieces. It was a sickly cliché thing to think or say, but for him it was the only way to describe the reality.

He let his calloused hands rest on her lower back, resting his chin on her head as he closed his eyes, tempted to sleep the day away to make up for the lost hours of fitful slumber. His aching limbs rejoiced the comfortable change of position and on a real bed which allowed him to fully relax, contentment enveloping his being. He felt he could sleep without issue at the moment and as MaryJane's breathing grew heavy again, his own body began to succumb to the seductive spell of sleep. Before he blacked out, he tightened his hold instinctively on his lover, a natural reaction to ensure that she was there and wouldn't escape him as he rested.

Breakfast and lunch went by and without hide nor hair of Daryl. For Carol, it was an unusual thing not to catch at least a glimpse of the youngest Dixon brother during the day. The only Dixon she'd seen all day was Merle and he was always accompanied by Beth who followed him around like a lost puppy, gazing up at him with all the admiration and love Carol had ever seen in one girl. Beth had her entire being into that man and while Carol understood it, she wasn't fully for it either. Beth was a sweet girl and Merle the opposite of sweet, but this wasn't the first time the older woman saw a relationship as unconventional as theirs and she was certain it wasn't going to be the last either. She was still getting used to the idea of Beth and Merle, but it still made her do a double-take when she caught them holding hands or kissing. And while it was interesting to see Merle, she was starting to miss the presence of his baby brother. She knew where he was, but she figured he'd at least come out to take a breather and grab some lunch before sitting by MaryJane again. Curious, she headed towards the cell MaryJane had occupied and quietly pulled the curtain back, expecting to see Daryl sitting next to MaryJane on the stool, his eyes staring at the woman, but not in reality.

She was taken aback to see that Daryl was in the bunk with MaryJane, curled up against him. A wave of joy had her face lighting up and a streak of motherly adoration making her smile as she saw Daryl holding the light of his life as she slept. The look on his sleeping face was content, almost a grin at the corners of his lips, his forehead devoid of any stress lines. Carol would go so far as to say that he looked ten years younger and for a moment, as she gazed at them, the swore she caught a glimpse of the past, the teenaged pair curled up together in bed, Daryl's arms wrapped around her in a protective embrace. The older woman could only imagine the true image of it in their youth and a part of her wished she could've been able to see it, to see just really how much MaryJane had affected his life. That was one story she desperately wanted to know.

Suddenly, she grew stiff as MaryJane shifted in her sleep, her brows furrowing tightly. The poor girl began to mumble, well, grumble in her case, her head twitching. Carol watched as her face began to contort, her fingers curling tighter around Daryl's shirt. Suddenly, she whimpered, the silver haired woman's heart jumping in her throat at the pitiful sound. A nightmare. And from what she'd been through the older woman didn't blame her for having them, she'd been through a lot in the return weeks. Carol'd actually be worried if she didn't have at least one. They all had nightmares nowadays, but this was a diverse situation from others. She could only imagined what was chasing her…or walking away from her in current dream.

"No! No, no, no, no, no, no! H-Help!" She rasped, her vocal cords straining, her usually musical, soft voice sounding like a chain smoker's.

A protective instinct reared in Carol, nearly making her step into the room to wake her before she did something to prevent her healing, but MaryJane's cries had abruptly awoken Daryl, his attention focused solely on the quickly panicking, sleeping woman. The older woman wasn't even noticed and at that moment she was grateful. She got to witness something she knew anyone would rarely see. Daryl jerked awake, his hands instantly cupping MaryJane's face, quietly, but insistently chanting.

"MaryJane, darlin'! Wake up! Open your eyes! It ain' real. MaryJane!"

Carol felt tears fill her eyes as she saw the softness of his touch and the complete baring of emotions in his eyes. His face was an open book, a deep etched worry practically claiming his entire form. She placed a hand over her mouth as it completely washed over her what she was seeing. MaryJane suddenly gasped and opened her eyes, her glassy eyes resting on him and they stared at each other for a few long seconds before the tears slid down her cheeks, a raspy sob erupting from her throat. Without a moment's hesitation, Daryl immediately pulled her to him, placing a hand on the back of her head, lacing his fingers in her hair. His other arm wrapped tightly around her, an unbreakable vice grip that not even death could loosen. The hardened tracker buried his face in her hair, kissing her head multiple times, clenching his eyes shut in a way that made Carol's gut clench. It almost appeared that Daryl was close to tears too.

"I'm here, MaryJane. I ain' gonna leave ya again. Never. Never. Shh. Quiet now, darlin', I got ya, I got ya and I ain' gonna let ya go again. Shh, shh."

MaryJane's sobs had quieted and Daryl had started to rock them a little. Carol wiped away the stray tear that fell, sucking her lips in as she inhaled a quiet sniff. She realized fully that she had just seen the Daryl she knew hid within his hard, cold shell. She saw the Daryl everyone knew he could be and for a long time she thought he just locked that part away, but in reality, it had always been out in the open, it's just no one knew that they were looking at it. Running the back of her hand under her nose, she gave them one last tearful look before leaving, letting the curtain fall back into place. Daryl glanced at the moving curtain, a thoughtful look in his eyes. Just as his eyes had glanced at the thin material in front of the door, he returned his lips to rest on MaryJane's head, closing his eyes as he inhaled her sweet scent.

Maybe things were on the mend. Maybe.

I hope this chapter was worth the wait. I worked hard on trying to keep the emotions straight. Is everyone thrilled that Katie finally sees the light? Will MaryJane forgive Jeremy? Will Daryl and MaryJane finally come together again? I am currently working on my future, new Walking Dead installment which will be considerably different from this story and I am excited to start working ahead on it. There's still a good five or six more chapters left in this story so the end is not near.

Please review! I love feedback!

Happy Writing!