Olive and Daryl crouched as they moved just outside of the woods. They had been tracking food for some time now, probably a few hours, but it was to no avail. Now they were on the verge of catching up to the Walker that had more than likely stolen their prey from them, and that was more than enough encouragement for them to get the job done.

Daryl lagged behind Olive, watching her back. She had expressed earlier that morning that she'd missed the Walker-killing as it had been a release for her, so her figured he would let her put this one to rest to make her feel better and more at ease.

Olive was ready, her pitchfork gripped in her hand, as she approached the Walker from behind. The thing was bent over on the grass, clearly munching away at some unfortunate creature that the pair would be unable to use as food now. She stepped forward, her boots barely pressing into the grass. She was ready to lunge, ready to kill the thing, when the unthinkable happened.

A fox trap sprung with the pressure of her foot, the claws of it clamping down on the heel of her boot and forcing her to her knees. The pain instantly shot up and down her leg, but she hadn't had time to react before the Walker noticed her presence and came at her.

Daryl lept to her rescue, shooting a bolt quickly into the skull of the Walker before dropping his crossbow to the ground and making his way over to Olive to pry her boot free.

She groaned and seethed at the pain, his knowing hands loosening the jaws clamped around her foot. Getting the thing free, Daryl tenderly grabbed her ankle.

"Can you move it?" he asked.

Olive rotated her heel and nodded. "Yeah, I can," she answered. "It's my heel."

The pair realized that they needed to find some place where they could dress her foot and help it along the healing process. With his arm around her waist, Daryl assisted her in walking along as running was now out of the question. Just outside of the clearing, they could see a cemetery. Olive was pulling him towards the tombstones before he could convince her otherwise.

Something inside of Olive drove her to limp her way towards a particular headstone, so she did just that. She followed the pull and the words etched into the marble were a direct link to her own heart.

The headstone read "Beloved Sister" underneath her age. The girl lying six feet underneath her was only eighteen when she passed away. Olive began tearing up at the words. The name was unimportant. She wished that she could've given her own beloved sister a proper burial with a beautiful marble headstone etched with a send-off message worthy of her short life.

Daryl was beside his love, feeling her pain with every step they took. Kneeling down, he took a bunch of flowers into his fist and ripped them up from their roots, stepping forward to lay them atop the marble. Back away, he stopped when he once more reached Olive's side.

"You alright?" he asked softly.

She nodded slowly. "Yeah, I just need to sit down."

Daryl readjusted his crossbow and crouched for her to jump onto his back. He planned to carry her for a while, especially having seen a house on the outskirts of the cemetery. Olive hesitated, not wanting at all to burden him or harm him in any way. Kindly and silently, she refused his offer. Reaching out her hand to him was her way to asking him to walk with her and allow her to keep her own dignity. Daryl couldn't resist her even if he'd wanted to. He pushed his fingers through hers and locked them there, his gaze meeting hers as she moved her body enough to be facing him.

Olive smiled at him with her eyes before craning her neck up a bit to press her lips to his neck in a still, thankful kiss. Daryl's skin shivered from the electricity of the contact, his eyes fluttering closed as the happiness wrote itself onto his face.

Together they made their way towards the house on the cemetery grounds. The house was white and had two stories. The front door was already boarded up, which was a definite sign of impending struggle, but upon knocking on the door and opening it, Daryl's soft whistle stirred nothing within this house.

The main floor was clean - spotless in fact. "It's so clean," Olive mused, her eyes scanning the wonderfully decorated place that they had discovered.

"Yeah," Daryl added, "someone's been tending to it...might still be around."

They searched the entirety of the place, bodies lying in the morgue and one in a coffin on the main floor. After discovering that there was nothing in this place aside from normality and no humans, Daryl took to looking for wrap.

"Let's get that ankle wrapped," he suggested, jogging back down to the morgue to grab first aid items to properly take care of her ankle.

Olive sat down on the couch in the parlor, right where Daryl found her when he came back upstairs from the basement. He sat down beside her and removed her boot, hiking her leg up onto his lap. His knowing hands unrolled the wrap and he took gentle care in wrapping her ankle entirely, his hands careful not to harm her.

Olive seethed once when he pulled the wrap back a bit from her heel to keep it from bruising while her ankle readjusted itself. Daryl frowned, believing he had harmed her, so he lifted her ankle to his mouth, pressing her wounded heel to his lips. The tender move surged passion into Olive's heart, her eyes meeting his with a smile.

Once her ankle was wrapped, Olive allowed her boots to remain off. She moved into one of the viewing rooms, a piano against the far wall. The ebony and ivory looked clean and clear as though someone took great care in making sure that this piano looked presentable at all times. Limping her way over to the bench, she sat down and situated herself comfortably.

Her skin tingled at the feel of eyes on her. Daryl was in the doorway to the room, his eyes fully engrossed on the back of her head.

"You play?" he asked gently.

Olive turned her head to look at him. "Hardly," was her reply. "I took a few lessons from my mother when I was small. She taught piano lessons to kids in our neighborhood."

"She any good?"

"The best." Olive chuckled at the memory. "She was a very gifted pianist."

"I'm sure yer great, too."

"Not at all." She laughed.

"You can sing. I know ya can."

Olive nodded, turning back around to look down at the keys. She allowed the tips of her fingers to gently graze over the keys, not daring to put pressure onto them. "I've sung to ya before."

Daryl stepped a bit further into the room, his hands shoved sheepishly into his pockets as he made his way over to her. "Could ya sing now?" He paused, coming up behind her and placing his hands on her shoulders. "I ain't heard it in a while...I want to."

Olive chewed on her bottom lip, one of her hands moving up to grip his as she settled her shoulders back against his body. "There's no music, if that's okay..."

"O' course."

Olive closed her eyes, allowing the words to come to her before she took a deep breath and began to sing.

Babe, will you save me a dance by the river / Moonlight is serving us well /She makes the whole world silhouette / Makes it flicker / Like rain on a shelf / Don't let the sadness in yet / Don't react as if somehow / It's all come and gone / Tonight let's pretend we're all healed up / And happy / And moved on

She paused briefly as Daryl swung around her, sitting beside her on the bench. Her gaze met his and she could tell he had been watching her the entire time she'd been singing so far. A glisten came into her eyes, and that's when she continued.

Tonight let the moon come shine / Let us remain / You and I / Tell the sun not to rise / For the darkest time / Moonlight, keep us steady / Give me one more night / And I'm ready / To let go / To know...

Her voice trailed off for a moment and, in that time, Daryl laid his head onto her shoulder and put his arms around her entire body.

We are only...only...

"...shadows," she finished, tears escaping her eyes decidedly.

Daryl moved outside for a bit to set booby traps on the front porch. Olive remained in the viewing room, her shoulders slumped as she stared at the empty casket sitting ominously on the other side of the room. Her memories flooded back, all of the best and happiest ones of her mother were now at the forefront of her mind and it was all she could do to keep her eyes open and keep herself positive.

Without being able to tell how much time had exactly passed since Daryl had gone outside, within a few moments - it seemed - he was once again beside her, the front row of seats consisting of two lovers with hearts too complicated to remain silent forever.

"You rememberin' yer mom?" he inquired, his tone knowing and sad.

Olive nodded, turning her head to face him, her eyes gazing through his. "I'm thinking about before, how different I'd be if I hadn't met you."

"Don't think about it. I ain't goin' anywhere."

Olive moved her head a bit, almost in an attempt to reassure herself that he was right and that he wasn't, in fact, going anywhere. "I'm here, you're here...I can't be without you." She closed her eyes momentarily, her hands slipping up to grip the lapels of his shirt and pull him closer to herself.

"Y'ain't," he comforted, placing his hands on the sides of her legs. "Never again. I love you, Olive."

"I love you," she retorted automatically, "so love me." He made a face as if he didn't understand what she was trying to say. "Right now."

That was when the lightbulb clicked on. Daryl moved in, kissing her lips with a kind of hungry fervency. One of his hands slipped up to take ahold of her hair tie and pull it out. Tousling her hair into a down position, Olive chuckled softly at the move, shaking her head a bit to loosen her locks. Her honey-colored hair was much longer now than it had been when they first met, and Daryl enjoyed making love to her with her hair curtaining down her back.

Olive's fingers made quick work in pushing the leather jacket up and over his shoulders, one quick tug sending the material to the floorboards. Her fingers found the buttons of his shirt, quick in undoing them so that she could let that material fall from his body as well. Slipping her arms around his now bare back, she stroked the scarred skin with a sweet familiarity, her lips descending from his mouth down his neck and across his chest. Daryl was blushing heavily now, the heat of their skin rising with the friction of caresses long-missed. He pushed her shirt up and over her head, tossing it aside before he made quick work in removing her bra.

Such was a ritual whenever they were preparing to have sex. They took great care in the removal of their clothes, knowing fully-well that these were the only clothes they possessed at-present and, truthfully, they missed being nude together.

Once they were completely in the buff, Olive shifted her bare feet to move them closer to the couch. Lying down on her back, she reached for her love and pulled him until he was propped up over her. Their bodies meshed together, the pieces of the puzzle completing in their moment of passion.

The sun set as the pair made love. The sounds of heated breathing and the soft scent of prolific sex were all to be found within the abandoned home. One time...a second...a third. Three times they finished simultaneously, now realizing that night had fallen. After laying intertwined on the couch, nothing but a mess of sweaty skin and tangled limbs, Daryl and Olive took themselves upstairs into the main bathroom and showered together, the feeling of running water being their one luxury. They made love one more time up against the wall of the shower itself and then, after cleaning themselves up and moving back down into the viewing room to redress, they figured it was time to find something to eat.

Cradling her in his arms, Daryl carried her into the kitchen, setting her down at the small table there. He scurried over to the cabinets in search of food. Opening one up, both were amazed to see shelves packed with food they hadn't seen in a very, very long time.

"Whoa," Olive managed, eyes wide as she scanned the shelves from her place nearby.

Daryl sifted through the items, a small grin crossing his lips. "Peanut butter, jelly, diet soda, and pigs' feet. That's a redneck brunch right there." Olive chuckled and he smiled at the sound of it. "Hang on...there's not a speck of dust on these things..." He turned around to see if perhaps she could make the decision for him. "Someone just put 'em here, like this is their stash."

Olive pondered just leaving the items alone, but when her stomach growled quite loudly and she could feel her body lurch from the anticipation, she nodded her head. "Maybe we could take some and leave the rest, okay?"

Daryl was thankful that she had made the decision. He was terribly indecisive about these things. "Those pig feet are mine."

Olive put her hands up as if surrendering. "I won't fightcha on that."

Daryl took a jar of grape jelly from the cabinet, unscrewing its lid and tearing the protective seal from it. Digging two fingers into it as if they were a spoon, he scooped some out of the jar and dipped both fingers into his mouth. Olive could see him instantly react from the pleasurable taste of it, and that's when he scooped some more out with his fingers and moved over to Olive, offering the substance to her. Instead of removing some of it with her own fingers, she moved in and enveloped both of his fingers into her mouth, dragging her lips back towards the tip to remove the gelatin. Her eyes fluttered closed briefly, her tongue sensing pleasure from the taste.

"Mmm," she murmured, and Daryl gulped back his lust for her, the sheen of her saliva still plastered across his digits.

"Pfft," he mumbled, shaking his head. "Tease." She grinned wickedly, and then their feast could begin.

Olive made quick work in the diet soda, downing half of a two-liter before consuming some of the other foods. "I may leave this person a thank-you note," she commented while he was still working on the peanut butter.

Daryl shrugged. "Maybe you won't have to," he suggested, receiving a confused look from her that made him continue. "Maybe we stay here for a while, hole up. If they come back, we'll make it work. Settle in here. They may be bat-shit, but this ain't a bad place to be a family."

Olive's brow slanted, her gaze meeting his as her heart sank at his offer. "You want a family with me, Daryl?"

"You are my family. I mean...maybe we could get married or somethin'."

"But...but I thought we already were married," she stated and his eyes narrowed in confusion. "I think we got married some time ago...back at the prison, if I remember it correctly." She smiled softly. "I've been Mrs. Dixon for some time now."

Daryl smiled, the tenderness of his expression making her inner butterflies flutter. "I love you."

Olive blushed, glancing down at her food for a moment. "You wanna stay here...why?"

Daryl paused briefly, the jar of pigs' feet sitting nearby. He reached for it as he thought, and then he continued. "You remind me that there are still beautiful things in the world...maybe some good people, too."

Olive melted at his words. "I love you." She cupped his face into her hands, drawing him in for a tender kiss. Their connection was about to deepen, but then a noise sounded at the door and the moment was over.

Daryl grunted and Olive snickered. "I'm giving that dumb mutt one more chance."

"You saw a dog earlier?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I tried to get it to come inside, but it wouldn't...seemed afraid or somethin'. I'll be right back." He pressed his lips to her forehead before departing the room.

Later on, if he had been asked about this moment in particular, Daryl would've said that he wished he'd peered outside before opening the door. He wished that he hadn't cared so much about the safety of that mutt. He wished for so many things, but he ignored all of his doubts. Perhaps it was because he was so into the blissful life that he and Olive had been roleplaying, or perhaps it was just because he had temporarily forgotten about the existence of the apocalypse creeping just outside. Such a malady pervaded their happy time when he opened the front door and a large group of Walkers growled and began barraging themselves against the door.

"Olive!" Daryl shouted, pushing the door back against the invaders as best as he could. "Olive!"

Olive hobbled into the front way, her eyes wide. "Oh, my God!" She took ahold of his crossbow from where it was leaning against the wall and tossed it to him. He caught it and then she rushed into the viewing room, stuffing their few belongings into her knapsack and his satchel, her pitchfork in-hand and her knife holstered at her hip. She moved back into the front hallway

"Get our shit!" Backing away from the door quickly, the mess of Walkers fumbled their way into the main hall, and Daryl fired and killed one. "Run! Run!"

Olive backed him up, stabbing another through its skull with the prongs on the end of her weapon. "I'm not leavin' you!" she bellowed, the noise of the undead creating a deafening hum that they were all-too used to at this point.

Half of the large group were downed quickly by the dynamic duo, but they just kept on coming, so they knew they had to vacate and quickly.

"Get out through that window we cracked and get to the road! I'll meetcha there!"

Olive frowned, but she did as she was instructed, hearing him crunch into a few more skulls as she squeezed herself out of the window. It was dark outside and Olive fumbled her way into a clearing by the road, sticking her pitchfork into the loops of her pants and removing her firearm from its place at the small of her back. Something was off to her and, as she entered the clearing and stepped onto the road, she instantly knew why and raised her gun, aiming it straight ahead with locked eyes as she waited for Daryl to catch up to her.

Daryl pushed the kitchen table against the door to barricade it properly as he made his escape out the same window that Olive had gotten out from. He sprinted to the clearing by the road, his body relaxing the moment he saw his love, but he slowed, readying his crossbow and aiming it at whatever - or whoever - Olive was pointing to. Once he approached her from behind, he could see it. It was a person and, unfortunately, not someone they knew.

The man who stood before them was a complete stranger. He was slightly taller than Daryl, was dressed like a former bike gang member, and had a scrawny, scraggly beard. He looked worn out but still full of energy, and Olive knew she couldn't trust him.

"Lookit here," the man said, his voice kind of gruff.

Daryl butted him in the face with the end of his crossbow and that's when the stranger's men aimed their rifles and weapons at the couple, their group forming a complete circle around them.

"Dammit, hold on!" the man said to his group.

"I'm claimin' the vest," one of the men stated. "I like them wings."

"I'm claimin' that pitchfork," another chimed in. "Helluva weapon."

The man laughed at his bloody nose, wiping it with the back of his hand. "A bowman," he said and the other men became quiet. "I respect that. See, a man with a rifle, he could've been some photographer or soccer coach back in the day, but a bowman's a bowman through and through." He came a bit closer and Olive continued her locked arm stance, her finger ready to fire if necessary. "Whatchoo got, a 150-pound draw weight? I'll be donkey-licked if that thing don't fire at least 300 feet per second. I've been lookin' for a weapon like that. Of course, I'd be wanting one with a bit more ammo and minus the oblongata stains."

"Getcherself into a bit of trouble, partners?" another man sneered.

The stranger came closer still, his eyes a dangerous mix of plea and direction. "You pull your triggers, these boys are gonna drop you several times over. That what you want?" Neither Daryl nor Olive responded to that, their eyes fully fixated. "Come on, suicide is stupid. Why hurt yourself when you can hurt other people? Name's Joe."

Olive and Daryl stared for a moment longer, their minds racing with questions. They did not know these men or what they were capable of, but given that their best chance at normalcy was just overrun by Walkers, they weren't currently left with many options. With their group missing and unaccounted for, neither Olive nor Daryl were certain of how much longer it would be until they came across their group again, if they came across them again. Either way, this was their chance to try again, even if they didn't trust the others.

"Daryl," he managed, lowering his crossbow slowly.

"Olive," she muttered, letting her locked arm loose as she brought it down and stayed as close to Daryl as possible.