"Born on the wrong side of the ocean

With all the tides against you

You never thought you'd be much good for anyone

But that's so far from the truth

I know there's pain in your heart

And you're covered in scars

Wish you could see what I do"

Skylar Grey — Everything I Need

I had to do it and I knew stalling it would only make things worse. A tiny part of me also craved an occupation of any sort, even if it meant leaving the safe borders of the farm. I tried to offer my help to Patricia and Carol; I even asked Lori whether I could do some laundry or teach Carl, but literally no one seemed to need me. "Go on and rest, honey" was like some fucked up chorus I wanted to erase from my memory. Even though I wasn't sure I wanted to take the meds, I found myself standing on the farm's porch with the piece of paper securely tucked in my bra, determined to put my pathetic existence to some use. At least for one afternoon.

I looked at Rick, who seemed to be lost in thought. A deep frown was visible between his brows, and I felt a bit sorry for him; for what in particular I honestly didn't know. Taking a deep breath, I approached him at the camp, where he sat near his tent. I was trying to be as loud as possible to make myself heard, but he was so occupied with whatever was bugging him that I didn't succeed. I took a small breath to compose myself and greeted Rick quietly, "Hi."

He looked up at me in surprise, blinking, "Hello. Something wrong?"

Why would he ask that? I must have looked pretty troubled.

"Yes," I answered slowly, but quickly corrected myself when Rick's frown deepened, "I mean, no, not really. It's just- Hershel asked me to find some medicines he lacks."

I stopped for a moment, mainly to take a breath, but Rick was quick to interject in a surprised tone, "He asked you? Why not Maggie or Glenn? They do most of our supply runs."

I shrugged, feeling warmness in my cheeks. Even though I discussed this with Hershel, and he suggested what I could say, I was such a bad liar, I had to swallow two times before I weakly managed, "I don't know. Perhaps because of my degree?"

It was time for Rick's brows to go up, so I hastily added, "I mean, he wants me to get veterinary meds, not that Glenn and Maggie are incapable. I think I have better chances of finding something usable when I know the names of the active substances than the two of them. Hershel can't possibly give them every medicine name which might be stored at a veterinary clinic, but the Latin names of the ingredients remain. Besides-" I hesitated, biting my lower lip, before adding sheepishly, "Besides, I've done it before. I mean, before I met you, I checked one or two veterinary clinics."

And I barely found anything there, but perhaps people weren't as eager to take the anxiety meds as they were for antibiotics and painkillers.

The man nodded slowly and rested his chin on his hand, "Okay. Do you think you can manage?"

I could feel his gaze slipping to my leg for a second and I nodded eagerly, "Yeah, it doesn't hurt that much anymore. But-" I hesitated briefly, biting my lower lip, "Can someone go with me? You know-" I cleared my throat sheepishly, "Just in case?"

"Sure, I didn't plan on sending you alone," a ghost of a smile appeared on Rick's tired face for a second, but was gone quickly, and I wasn't quite sure whether I should return the gesture or remain impassive. Scratching his chin, he continued thoughtfully, "We could ask Glenn-"

"I'm not sure if he'll be happy," I muttered bemusedly, cutting in without much thought, "Our last trip to the city wasn't exactly enjoyable."

Rick hummed in agreement and looked at the ground for a moment before saying, "I don't feel okay with sending you and Maggie alone; she's not very experienced in combat, and you're injured." He went silent for another couple of seconds before saying, "Ask Daryl or Shane to take you to town."

Not exactly what I had in mind coming here. Not at all what I wanted to achieve. I felt a small pang of panic hitting my mind and I had to actually count to five to calm myself down a bit.

"Can't- you go with me?" I asked before I could think about it. I really wanted to tell him, I did, but giving out my secret to him was different from telling Hershel. I had to prepare myself and just- spend some time with the man to muster a logical sentence about my condition. Besides, we were near everyone in the camp and the risk of someone overhearing us was pretty big, and I wanted to avoid it, at least for now. However, I was about to find out it wasn't going to happen, as Rick looked at me carefully and then shook his head slowly.

"Sorry, but I gotta stay here, make sure everyone is safe." He said quietly, his eyes not leaving me. Suddenly, I felt a bit restless, almost as if he could see my soul through my eyes, and I had half a mind to turn my gaze elsewhere, "You'll have to talk to Shane or Daryl, they can take you to town."

With a slow gesture, I moved a strand of my hair behind my ear, and even though everything in me was yelling to disagree, I found myself nodding slowly, "Yeah, okay."

I turned to go, two contradicting opinions forming in my head. On the one hand, I didn't exactly want to be left alone with Shane after what Daryl told me. On the other, I sure as fuck didn't crave the latter's company. However, before I was able to take two steps or make a logical list of pros and cons of both solutions, or actually decide to go and drown in the nearest river, I could hear Rick's quiet voice, "Victoria?"

"Yeah?" I turned around eagerly, only to see him rubbing his chin in a nervous, or maybe more like an uncertain, gesture. I waited for his next words patiently, though something stirred restlessly in my stomach.

"On second thought, ask Daryl." Rick said quickly and for some highly idiotic reason, my mouth went dry. I opened it, not entirely sure if I wanted to ask why, thank him for making the choice easier or simply voice my frustration about my deeply annoying feelings. Before I could say anything and share any of my thoughts, he added, as if he needed an excuse, "I might need Shane's help."

"Oh," I muttered, feeling obliged to say something. Then I nodded and moved my weight from one leg to the other, adding, "Okay, I'll ask Daryl if I see him. If he's not around, I'll just- go some other day."

Smooth, Watts.

"Looks like we're lucky," Rick commented, "Ay! Daryl!"

My breath hitched in my throat for a moment and I felt uneasiness wash over me. I turned around, slowly, facing the hunter himself as he entered the camp. He glanced at me briefly and nodded in greeting as if I was only a mere colleague from work or a shop assistant, a total nobody, and I tried to do the same, though my neck became very stiff, and I think I managed only a tiny gesture. I couldn't get my angry stare to turn from Daryl, as he stood in front of Rick. I could see it in his posture, that he was nervous. The usual straight line of his back was even straighter and visibly stiffer.

"What's up man?" The hunter asked, moving the bow on his back in a slightly nervous movement, "I'm headed to the east wing of the farm with T-Dog and Andrea. Check for them walkers."

"Actually, I wanted to ask you to take Victoria to town," Rick said, moving his hand through his hair. "Hershel asked her to gather some medicine. I told her to ask Shane or you, but since you're here-"

Rick let the sentence hang in there and I could see a nervous movement in Daryl's hand. I couldn't quite tell whether the ex-cop left out the part where he told me to ask Daryl specifically on purpose or not, but it seemed to do the trick nonetheless. At least, it gathered Daryl's attention.

"Her? Why not Maggie or Glenn?" Daryl's voice was somewhat suspicious or perhaps surprised, or both. My eyes narrowed at that.

Really? You too?

Even though it might have been a normal question, in my head, it raised to an insult after how Daryl had been treating me yesterday and today. I twitched nervously, and before any of them could say anything, I found myself clenching my fists and taking a bold step forward. Both men looked at me in surprise, as if they had finally noticed I was still with them.

"Because I'm a perfectly capable human being," I hissed angrily, narrowing my eyes at him. From the corner of my eye I could see Rick's gaze moving slowly from me to Daryl, but I couldn't care less at that moment, when I added, "Because he doesn't ignore me. And when he fucking says something, he keeps his word."

I was aware the last part wasn't even connected with the first sentence, but I honestly couldn't help myself. I was also aware the curse wasn't necessary, but as I found out, Daryl had an annoying ability to bring out the best and the worst in me at the same time.

With that, I turned on my heel, stalking towards the house and I added angrily, not turning to face them, "Just forget I asked. I'll figure something out."

"Victoria?" Yet again that day, Rick's voice stopped me. Without turning around, I stood in place, waiting for him to continue. "Whatever Daryl tells you to do, you do it."

I beg your pardon?

At that point I could swear there was actual steam leaving my nostrils as I turned around, gritting my teeth together so hard it hurt. Rick opened his mouth again, completely oblivious to my anger, and added, "I mean it, if he tells you to run-"

That made me see red, and before I could think about it, I interjected, "I ask how fast and if he tells me to duck I will fucking find the nearest pond and jump into it, quacking," I hissed, clenching my hands into fists. To say they were surprised would be an understatement of the week, and I felt a small pang of pride at how Daryl's face turned a shade redder. However, I was way too wrapped in my own anger, humiliation, and bad mood to care about consequences, and I added hastily, "I get it, I am completely useless. Just fucking forget it, I'll go alone. Or I'll find equally pathetic company. We might even try to-"

I stopped, breathing heavily. A sudden realization hit me and I groaned quietly, turning around and almost jogging towards the farm. I was making a fool of myself and I had to stop it before there was no turning back.

However, before I reached the stairs, I heard heavy footsteps behind me. I didn't stop or turn around, quickening my pace if anything. The person caught up with me easily, making me grit my teeth yet again that day and said, "Can ya' put on somethin' else?"

I stopped abruptly and Daryl followed suit swiftly, so when I turned to face him, placing my fists on my hips, we were standing inches apart. With narrowed eyes I almost hissed, "Why? Should I wear something less human? A collar, perhaps?"

"A collar?" He repeated slowly, and a frown formed on his face, "I jus'-"

"Yeah, a collar," I interjected, not letting him explain, "You know, you talk about me as if I'm not there, you only pay attention to me when you're in a good mood or when you need me, sorry if I got you wrong, but I thought I'm a cow after all!"

"I'm not sure if cows wear collars, princess," a small smirk appeared on Daryl's face and I felt a deep need to slap him. The urge deepened, when he added, "Sounds more like a dog thing to me. The whole description, too."

"You're such an ass." I muttered instead of acting as I imagined, turning around to walk away. He moved quickly and stopped in front of me in a few strides. I narrowed my eyes at him and wanted to bypass him, but he moved in sync with me. My gaze must have been murderous, because Daryl raised both his hands as a sign of surrender and looked at me, no mockery in his demeanor.

"C'mon, I'm sorry. I really want to help ya'." Daryl's voice held a begging note, and he had the decency to look apologetic, "Go and put on something warmer, and we'll go," he stopped for a moment and bit his lower lip, suddenly sheepish, "You'll tell me why you're angry with me."

"Is it so hard to figure it out on your own?" I almost hissed, leaning towards him angrily. He looked down at me carefully, and I found out I can have trouble breathing from a single look.

"Guess it wasn'," he murmured, and sighed, "Look, lets jus' go. You'll get yer answers."

"Like hell I'm going with you!" I yelped and realized pretty much everyone in the camp stared at us; the last thing I needed was Patricia eavesdropping on us on the other side of the door. I lowered my voice to an angry hiss, "I told you already, I don't need your pity."

"Who said it was pity?" Daryl's brows furrowed and honestly, his stoic attitude was angering me even more. Digging my nails into my hands, I stared at him, but much to my dismay, he didn't falter.

"Me. I'm saying that," I muttered, "Let me rephrase it for you. I am not going anywhere with you. Not to the bathroom, not to your tent, not to the fucking town."

As if resigned, Daryl sighed quietly and grabbed my elbow, pulling me to the far end of the porch, where we were out of sight. Surprised, I followed him, almost jogging to keep up, a slight pang of pain perceptible in my thigh at the sudden movement.

Once we reached the place, I pulled my hand out of his grip harshly. If I thought that'd startle him or at least cause some discouragement, I was wrong yet again, because he moved closer to me and I took a cowardly step back, ending up in the most cliché position ever: pinned to the wall behind me. If I was a part of some romance novel, we'd probably end up making out, but instead, Daryl said in a low voice, which sent shivers down my whole body, ones I honestly hated at that moment, "No, lemme rephrase somethin' for ya'. You'll go to the town with me-"

He stopped for a second and as if to prove his point, he placed both his hands next to my head, leaning closer, "Not with Shane, unless ya' want me to shoot him in the ass."

I took a deep breath and as I looked straight into Daryl's eyes, heart hammering in my chest, he continued in a low murmur, punctuating each word, "Now, you'll go and. Put. On. Somethin'. Warmer."

I looked at him carefully, knowing all too well I had already lost that battle. My anger was evaporating way too fast, and I tried to stare him down, but I could tell I was failing. I huffed angrily and looked away, "Fine. Wait here."

"I'll go get the bike." He said and turned around, not waiting for my reply. I stood there, working on both my breathing and steadiness.

"Wait!" I called, and he stopped, turning around with a questioning look, "What do you mean by 'warmer'?"

Daryl tilted his head to the side and scratched his occiput in a kind of sheepish gesture, one that was so much different from his attitude just seconds before, "Jus'-" his eyes wandered to my legs and suddenly I felt hot, "Try to find somethin' to cover yer legs, if you can put it on through the stitches."

I nodded and entered the house, a small group in the living room instantly gathering my attention. I looked at Rose, Hershel, and Patricia and smiled despite the anger still running through my veins: both the adults were playing with the child, making her laugh constantly. When I caught Hershel's eye, I nodded, and he got up, approaching me. I muttered, "I'm going to town with Daryl, to look for the meds."

"Try the veterinary clinic, it's on the main street, but a bit hidden," the old man explained, grabbing a piece of paper and started drawing a small map, "When you pass by, next to a boo shop, you have to turn left and the clinic will be behind a gate, you'll probably see a piece of a dog's head on the wall, it's their logo. At least it was there before-" he stopped short and looked at me, "I know I was the one to give you the list, but don't you think you should ask someone else to go or at least wait a couple of days?"

I bit my lower lip, fixing my gaze on Rosie, who was grabbing a small spoon, offered to her by Patricia, and giggling massively, "I have to go," I moved my eyes to look into the worried ones belonging to Hershel. I smiled softly, trying to put him at ease, "I'm the only one who will be able to tell the difference when it comes to the doses. Besides," I stopped, feeling a bit sheepish and I lowered my voice, so it was barely audible, "I'm going with Daryl, I can't imagine anyone better when it comes to safekeeping."

Hershel sighed and nodded, "You're right. Just- be careful. And don't do anything stupid."

I smiled again and with a sudden rush of emotions, I moved a step closer, embracing the man and I muttered, "I won't volunteer to go in the line of fire again."

What was meant to be a joke seemed to make Hershel even more scared as he grabbed my arms and moved me away, looking at me seriously, "I meant what I said, Victoria."

"Me too," I sent him a small grin and moved away completely, "I'll be fine, I promise. Besides, I don't really have a choice." I stopped for a moment, biting my lower lip and casting my eyes down, "It happened yesterday again. It's either the meds at hand or-" another short break, as I forced myself to finish the sentence, something clenching painfully over my insides, "Or I gotta go. I really don't see another option here. Now I'll go get ready."

Hershel nodded, but didn't say anything, and as I went up the stairs and turned around, he was still standing where I left him, gaze fixed somewhere on the wall. I turned around and went into my room, looking at a fresh pile of clothes set there, probably by Patricia. I bit my lower lip, eyeing a pair of jeans, "Sorry about that, Beth."

I grabbed the denim and rushed towards the bathroom. The door opened with a quiet noise as I entered the small room. Grabbing my shorts, I pulled them down, making sure I didn't graze the stitches in the process. When I was done, I took the long jeans and inhaled deeply, bracing for the pain.

Moving it past my calves was easy, but then I started pushing it up my thighs, which was problematic. I took a steadying breath and took the scissors from the drawer, slowly piercing the material with it. I started moving them up, making a small cut where I thought the seams would go, and after I was done, I slowly pulled the jeans over my thighs. Giving them a quick glance, I decided it looked pretty much okay, and I left the bathroom, but not before straightening some wrinkles over my Henley.

When I went down the stairs, Patricia was waiting for me with two rolls, the very gesture making me warm inside. I sent her a lopsided smile, "You know, it's not that far."

She smiled gently, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Be careful."

"I will," I swallowed and tried to smile, genuinely taken with their care, "Don't worry. Keep an eye on Rose for me."

She nodded, "I will."

Not knowing what else to do, I hugged her briefly and left the house. As I stood on the porch, trying to steady my uneven heartbeat with a few slow breaths, I noticed Daryl standing nearby, leaning on his motorbike. I went down the stairs, and he looked down my legs at the cut denim and nodded slowly, "Smart."

Even though there wasn't much to inspect now that I wore longer pants, his eyes remained on my legs and I felt warm and a bit insecure. My hands closed tighter on the sandwiches as I approached him slowly. Finally, he moved his gaze to my face and asked, "So?"

"So?" I repeated dumbly, blinking a couple of times. Later on I realized I must have looked really stupid, two sandwiches in my hands, mouth slightly agape and eyes, which just wouldn't stop blinking.

"Why are ya' so angry?" he asked slowly, his eyes boring into mine, and I huffed at that.

"Seriously?" I snorted in disbelief, "Have you at least tried to figure it out on your own?"

He looked at me in bemusement and muttered, "Yeah."

"And what did you come up with?" I crossed my arms over my chest with those fucking sandwiches still clutched in my hands, suddenly feeling angry at poor Patricia for making them.

Daryl stared at me yet again, his face expressionless, and he said quietly, "Yer mad cuz I said I'll talk to ya' and I didn'."

"You just didn't talk to me?" I shook my head in exasperation, "You were fucking avoiding me, Dixon."

His Adam's apple moved rapidly three times before he managed a short, "Sorry."

"Sorry." I repeated blankly, blinking yet again. I couldn't quite decide if he was toying with me, wanted me to leave him alone, or was sincere. Instead of voicing my concerns, I muttered again, "You're sorry."

As if unable to voice his thoughts, Daryl bit his lower lip and nodded. I stared at him, my anger slowly evaporating. Whatever was in this guy, I couldn't quite stay angry with him for long. I sighed, shaking my head slowly. Deciding it could wait until we were back at the farm safely, I bit my lower lip, trying to think of something to say. After what felt way too long (but was evidently too short for my brain to catch up with my tongue), I blurted, "We're going on this?"

Way to go, seriously. I couldn't do small talk even if my life depended on it.

"Yeah, I prefer it over the horse," Daryl grimaced, and I half-smiled at that. He moved his gaze to my face, "Why? 'S that a problem?"

"No," I shook my head, "But I should probably tell you right now; the only thing I've ridden without a safety belt on, was a bike," I bit my lower lip, wrinkling my nose, "Do we even have helmets?"

My voice sounded weak, even in my own ears. When Daryl straightened next to me, he had a small smile, as if I said something funny, "No, we don't. But if ya' want, I can drive as if I was with my granny."

"Do you have a granny?" I asked slowly and Daryl's hand moved up, inching closer to my face. For a second I thought he was about to caress my cheek, but his fingers gently touched my hair, and he pulled a small leaf out, dropping it to the ground and leaving me a bit breathless in the process. Then, he turned his solemn gaze to my face. While his expression was almost blank, I could see a mischievous sparkle in his eyes.

"We all do," he said quietly, "Opposite to what ya' seem to think 'bout me, I wasn't raised by a bunch of wolves."

"Could've fooled me," I muttered, "Seeing how you prefer to growl at me instead of talking."

For the first time I could see him fully smile, with his teeth out, and I couldn't help but stare. While it was, wolfish, a predatory hint in how his lips fell on his teeth, it was also one of the most charming views I've ever seen. Before I knew it, I was grinning back so hard my cheeks hurt. I couldn't help but wonder how I ended up having this almost flirtatious conversation mere minutes after I was ready to kill him with my bare hands. After a moment, I extended the sandwiches towards him, "Wanna have them now or later?"

"Now," he took one of the sandwiches, but I shook my other hands, motioning for him to take both. He looked at me, raising an eyebrow, "What 'bout ya?"

"Already had some," I said, which technically wasn't a lie, since I had eaten that day. I was avoiding too much food most of the time lately, as I noticed being a bit hungry all the time made it easier to hold at least some attacks at bay.

Daryl looked at me for a moment and after that he took both of the sandwiches, biting the first one eagerly. I watched him eat for a minute, noticing the little things I found really adorable and sad at the same time: his eagerness and constant hunger making something inside me melt. I shook my head, trying to focus, and he demanded, "So, tell me."

I remained silent for a moment, before licking my lips, "What?"

"Why'd it anger ya' so much?" his mouth was half-full, but I couldn't bring myself to smile, the gravity of this question almost making me gasp for breath.

How on godly Earth did I end up in this conversation?

"It just did." I managed. Even though I thought it was a weak excuse for an explanation, Daryl seemed to accept it nonetheless. He looked at me carefully and nodded.

We remained silent for a moment, and then I said, "You should know I really never drove a motorbike. I have no idea how to act."

The man shrugged and swallowed a huge bite of the bread before starting, "Ya' don' need any particular knowledge to be a passenger. Jus' hold tight and when I move to the side, you do too."

"And how-" I bit my lower lip, suddenly sheepish, as my eyes scanned the solid form of the motorcycle for anything that could work as a handle, "What do I hold onto?"

Daryl's eyes widened a fraction, as if he had realized something, and he murmured, "Me."

I blinked a couple of times, trying to get my composure back, before saying, "Okay."

Daryl chewed the last bite of the second sandwich way slower than necessary and brushed his hands on his pants carefully. Then, he grabbed the handle of the motorcycle and got on the vehicle, setting it straight. He took off the crossbow, eyeing it dubiously, and he turned to me, "Guess you'll have to carry it."

I nodded, taking off my backpack and tucking it at my side as if it was a regular purse . I looked at Daryl, who was biting his lower lip, and I turned around slowly. For some unknown reason I found my breath hitched in my throat and after a couple of seconds, almost when I thought he wouldn't budge, Daryl moved slowly, unmounting the motorbike and slipping the wide strap over my chest in a gentle movement. At first, I thought it wasn't that bad, but when his hands moved away, I huffed, my knees bending slowly. I exclaimed, "That thing's damn heavy!"

I turned around with effort to face Daryl. He didn't quite meet my eyes, his gaze hovering lower over my form. I added sheepishly, "It's so uncomfortable, it feels as if it's gonna cave in my chest!"

Daryl's Adam apple moved, and he forced with a husky voice through gritted teeth, "Well, I don't have that problem."

"Because you're stronger than I!" I whined, trying to adjust the strap, but it was really hard with the crossbow's weight and if anything, I only managed to make it worse.

I was so focused on the weight nearly crushing me that I didn't notice the long silence at first. After a while, Daryl muttered, "Not the only reason."

I looked up at him in bewilderment, and just then the intensity of his gaze, which wouldn't meet my eyes, finally caught my attention. I slowly looked down and realized the reason for his behavior: the strap was not only uncomfortable; it also peeled into my Henley just between my breasts, squeezing them so hard I was surprised they didn't literally pop. Yet again, I found it hard to breathe, and that damn strap had surprisingly little to do with it, or perhaps it was all the reason behind it.

I couldn't quite meet Daryl's gaze, so I fixed mine somewhere to his left, not seeing a single thing and feeling extremely hot all over my face. Finally, he cleared his throat, "I can- try to help ya' adjust it."

I shook my head and barely managed a short "All good."

His gaze fell on me, and he assessed me for a second, but I couldn't quite guess his thoughts, as he said, "Hop in behind me then. Slowly."

He mounted the machine again with one, swift motion, and looked at me over his shoulder expectantly. I nodded and approached the motorcycle as if it could bite me — though in all honesty, at that moment I was more terrified of its owner — and grabbed the seat, slowly moving my injured leg to the other side. A slight sting followed the movement, but it was bearable. The feeling of the leather seat beneath me was all but soothing and the crossbow was pulling me back hard, so I stirred a bit, trying to adjust myself. Before I could make any decision about my next step, Daryl muttered weakly, "Ya' need to sit closer."

I swallowed and moved my hips an inch closer with effort — not just the physical one — before croaking, "Like that?"

"No princess, closer." Was all I heard, and I felt utterly humiliated by the restraint in his voice. I was suddenly reminded of his words towards me during our first trip to the forest and I fought the urge to tell him I've got no fleas either.

Another hard swallow and a bite to my lower lip before I moved my hips closer to him, so now there was no space between us, "Okay?"

"Okay." That was all I got before he started the engine. Startled, I tried to place my hands behind me, but I felt way too leaned, off-centered, especially with the weight of the crossbow, which nearly made me fall off and land on my butt gracelessly. Then, I moved my palms to my thighs, but I had nothing to hold on to, which left me breathless and even more insecure. Before I could consider my situation and find any reasonable solution, I felt Daryl's hands grabbing mine and putting them on his chest, pressing me into his back in the process. Weirdly enough, not only did he place my hands over his warm body, but he also tucked them under the vest he was wearing. Suddenly, my mouth was completely dry, and I wondered if anyone was looking at us and if I looked as flustered as I felt.

"Like that," he instructed shortly with a blank voice, and then he started the motorcycle and all I could do was clutch to him. Even though we couldn't have been driving quickly, I found myself gripping Daryl's shirt forcefully. My breasts were lying flat against his back with that damn strap exposing them even more, and I couldn't quite decide anymore whether I was nervous because of the idea of riding on a motorcycle or Daryl's proximity.

As we left the farm, I learned what he meant by turning with him on the first turn we took. It was way easier than I could imagine, probably because my body was following his instinctively. The wind in my hair was making it a mess, but the warmness surrounding us was better than anything I felt lately, and I found myself hugging my cheek to Daryl's back with a small smile, trying — and succeeding most of the time — to forget how naked I felt even with my clothes on. I stirred a couple of times, trying to adjust my position, but each time I did that, Daryl seemed to stiffen, so I tried to remain as still as possible, occasionally moving my hips, when a bump on the road got me off my spot.

The road didn't take us too long, or so I thought, when the motorcycle started slowing down. But when it stopped completely, and I let go of Daryl, leaning back a bit, I learned we were in the middle of a forest. I opened my mouth to ask what was going on, but Daryl was faster as he barked, "Get off."

Before I could question my own judgement, I dismounted the bike, probably too slow for his liking. As when both of my feet barely touched the ground, Daryl was already moving his right leg over the bike. He stopped, making sure it stood still steadily in place, and turned to me with a furious expression. I opened my mouth to say something, but he overtook me again, "Fuck, princess, ya' can't fidget like that and expect me to stay calm!"

Before I could fully understand the situation or Daryl's words, his mouth covered mine and his tongue was stroking mine with erratic movements, taking advantage of my parted lips. I closed my eyes, gripping his forearms in an attempt to steady myself, while my legs felt like jelly and my back was still pulled down with the weight of Daryl's crossbow. As if noticing that, he pulled away for a short second, removing the heavy weapon from my back with easiness that made me question my strength — or the lack of it — and setting it next to us with rapid movements. His hands came back to my body as if they were pulled there by a huge magnet, and he kissed me again. I tried to match his movements, gasping into his mouth over and over, as his hands roamed over my body hungrily. He was touching my butt, waist, belly, breasts and arms, literally every part of my body he could reach without detaching himself from my lips, caressing me roughly, and I felt my legs going even weaker with every passing second. When he decided he had explored enough, he grabbed my ass, squeezing it, and it was the exact moment my leg muscles decided to give up. Feeling my weakness, Daryl pulled me up, and I wrapped my legs around him, moving my arms to his neck while seeking any sort of support. All this time his lips didn't leave mine and I started feeling breathless, so I pulled back a bit, breaking the kiss and panting heavily. He looked at me for a split second, set me down on the motorcycle's seat, and moved his lips to my neck, biting, licking and kissing every piece he could reach. I couldn't help but moan, but knowing all too well this might bring unwanted attention to us; I bit my lower lip forcefully, trying to stifle the noises. It didn't exactly do the trick, so after Daryl laid another soft bite to the base of my neck, my loud moan followed his ministrations. I leaned back a bit, covering my mouth with my own hand, my legs still wrapped securely around the man's hips.

Daryl must have noticed my actions, as he chuckled lowly, moving his attention lower. His hands were now covering my breasts, massaging them slowly, while his lips worked their way down, leaving a trail of hot, wet kisses on my burning skin. I found myself leaning into the touch instinctively, one hand holding onto Daryl's arm for dear life and the other covering my mouth. His actions were making my brain melt and I couldn't help but wonder if he was that good at caressing me on instinct or if it was a lot of experience. Before I could ponder on that matter any longer, he moved my henley down harshly, and his lips found my nipple in one swift motion. I cried out into my own hand as he sucked on my sensitive flesh, my hips moving in circles, seeking the much-needed friction. Daryl growled at that, pushing his hardening manhood into my core through the material of our pants, and suddenly, I was aware of two things. Firstly, I was so wet I started wondering if it was visible on the denim; and secondly, he wasn't hardening; he was throbbing with need and tough as a rock.

Swallowing, I opened my eyes slowly. Daryl's lips were still working on my nipple, eyes hooded, his hand caressing my other breast with surprising gentleness in comparison to his swirling, merciless tongue, while his other hand rested on my back and I suddenly realized I was limp in his touch, and he was holding me upright with the weak help of my own hand gripping his arm. Fighting the urge to moan again, I slowly moved my hand from my lips and in a sudden rush of boldness I slipped it between our bodies, gently touching his penis through the material of his pants. He groaned, rocking his hips lightly, so I grabbed his length a bit harder, moving my hand up and down experimentally. Daryl let go of my breasts, hiding his face in the crook of my neck, panting, and I felt a delicious jolt of power running down my body, making me want him even more. He was mostly quiet, but his quick breathing as well as his hips working in sync with my hand told me he was as aroused as me and when I pumped his length slowly, his hands gripped the leather seat right next to my body. Daryl's face was hidden from my view, hugged tightly to my neck and his hot breath was sending shivers down my spine.

After a moment of my steady work he seemed to compose himself enough to continue his caresses; one of his hands cupping my breast again, and his lips working their way up to my earlobe, where he bit me gently and a delicious shiver ran down my spine. I stifled my moan yet again, letting a quiet sigh leave my mouth. Right after that he whispered straight into my ear, his voice strained and almost begging, "Tell me to stop."

While his lips asked for one thing, his body seemed to think the complete opposite, rocking his hips against me, lips biting the sensitive flesh of my throat, and hands moving almost frantically over my body, caressing everywhere and anywhere at the same time. I forced my lips open, but it took me a moment to say something.

"Don't you dare to stop." I whined quietly when I finally managed to speak, gripping my hand over his length even tighter, as if to make a point. Daryl grunted and cursed under his breath, finding my lips again. This time I was ready and my mouth welcomed his hungrily, my tongue fighting for dominance with his in erratic movements. He let go of my breast and I whined into his mouth, but the sound quickly turned into a low moan as he moved his fingers into my pants with one swift motion, beneath my underwear, straight to my throbbing, wet core.

At the feeling of the wetness in my underwear, Daryl stopped our kiss, pulling back a little. He was panting as if he had just run half a mile, and his eyes seemed darker than usual. I always thought it was just a matter of speech on how someone's eyes can get darker with desire, but his once stormy blue irises seemed almost black at that moment, and it sent another delicious shiver through my body. He tried to push his finger inside me, but the tight denim was in his way, which seemed to annoy him. He unbuttoned my pants quickly, and I braced myself on the seat, letting go off his throbbing length in the process. Still holding my legs around his hips, I pushed myself up to make it easier for him to take the jeans off. To my great surprise, even in his current state, Daryl paid extra attention while moving the denim down my thighs, trying — and succeeding — to avoid the contact of the material with my stitches for the most part of the way.

When the pants were out of our way — something I started wondering would ever happen — his hand was back in my underwear in an instant, massaging my entrance way too slow for my liking. I tried to move my hips a bit to get some friction, but it was pretty hard in our current position, so I managed a low, "Please."

Daryl chuckled, finding my lips yet again, not changing his pace. When his tongue massaged mine with lazy movements, I couldn't help but wonder how he managed to go from a passionate, hungry kiss to a slow, sensual one in a matter of a few moments. My musing was quickly stopped when one of his fingers finally slipped into me and I moaned loudly into his mouth, trying to pull back from the kiss; but he didn't let me, swallowing all my noises with his tantalizingly slow lips. I was beginning to realize my wet dream I had in the first days on the farm was nothing more than a poor caricature of what Daryl might have done with my body, making me a complete mess. The man moved his lips to my neck, pumping his finger in and out, and for a moment I thought I would just come undone on his hand within mere minutes, but he stopped his ministrations, forcing through gritted teeth, "Princess, it ain't right, tell me to stop."

"I don't want you to stop." I murmured, finding it incredibly hard to form such a long sentence with his unmoving finger inside me. I licked my lips, forcing my fogged brain to form a coherent threat, "I'll kill you if you stop."

Another mumbled curse left his mouth and he removed his finger from my wet inside, sudden emptiness making me mewl in protest. The sound of his zipper stopped my whining as I moved my butt closer to the edge of the motorcycle seat eagerly. I looked at the vehicle, "Will it hold?"

Daryl chuckled quietly, yet again, pulling his pants down a bit. With a quick movement, he positioned himself at my entrance and moved his lips closer to my mouth, whispering straight into it, "Only one way to find out."

With that, he pushed himself inside me and placed his mouth on my lips at the same time, stopping my loud cry from spreading through the forest. The sudden feeling of being so full gave me both pleasure and a bit of pain, and I froze motionless, trying to adjust. Daryl stilled as well, interrupting our kiss, as he looked at me, his eyes alarmed, "I- Were ya-"

"No," I shook my head, and a flash of relief could be seen in his eyes. I moved my hips experimentally, which made his eyes fall shut, as he visibly forced himself not to move, "But it's been a while."

Daryl nodded, not opening his eyes, and suddenly I found it fascinating to watch him. There was a small trickle of sweat running down his face and his Adam's apple was moving constantly, while his lips were slightly agape. His hands were gripping my knees as if his life depended on it, and I could feel his length throbbing in me. My legs were still wrapped around Daryl's hips and I pushed my heels into his butt cheeks, trying to let him know he could move. His eyes snapped open at that, and I couldn't help but smile at him, "I'm good."

He nodded again, as if he was unable to formulate a sentence, and he moved his hips, making me moan and throw my head back. His hands moved from my knees to my hips in one swift motion, as he pushed me closer to him and I had to bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from crying out loud. Daryl's hands moved to my back, forcing me to move closer to his chest, as he mumbled, "Keep it low princess, we don't want company."

I chuckled breathlessly, but the noise quickly turned into another moan, when Daryl moved inside me again. I couldn't tell whether it was his size or our position, but I could feel his every throb and even the smallest movement, and each thrust was hitting the most delicious spot I didn't even know I had in my body. Not seeing any other way to keep myself quiet, I grabbed his neck and pulled him down towards me, attaching myself to his lips desperately. Each movement was bringing me closer to the edge and by the way Daryl's thrusts were becoming more and more frantic; I could tell he was close as well. His hands were still on my back, holding me close, and I found myself simply hating the amount of clothes between us, at the same time loving the way Daryl's shirt was rubbing against my sensitive nipples. I broke our kiss, moving my lips lower, peppering Daryl's jaw with small pecks, and then I moved to his neck, licking and biting him the way he had caressed me before. I could see his Adam's apple moving up and down, and I darted my tongue over it, earning myself the smallest gasp. I didn't think that was possible, but Daryl's movements became even faster, and I found myself kissing his neck passionately just to stop myself from screaming his name at the top of my lungs. "Princess-"

Even though it was just a soft murmur and I didn't so much hear it as feel it under my lips, I knew what he meant nonetheless, so I whispered against his warm skin, "That's fine. I'm close."

As my lips and tongue still moved over his neck slowly, he started thrusting even deeper into me and my head lulled back, the caresses I was giving him quickly forgotten, as I desperately tried to remain quiet. My climax was building up quickly, and when Daryl hugged me tightly as if I was something really precious, his rough cheek right next to mine. It made me feel wanted, needed even and safe, and the gesture sent me over the edge, my core clenching around him hard. He followed seconds after me with a few soft grunts, which sent shivers down my spine, and I groaned quietly, hiding my face in the crook of his neck, while his cock pulsed inside me, lengthening my orgasm. His uneven breaths were gently caressing my earlobe and I found myself hugging him tightly, as if my life depended on it, and fuck, maybe at that moment it did.

Coming down from my climax, I realized Daryl was trying to stop this, even if his attempts were halfhearted, and it made me fucking frightened to budge. I wasn't sure how he'd act after this, so I remained as still as possible, hoping he would just forget I was there, as I savored in the feeling of his warm embrace. It made me feel safe and at that moment I couldn't quite imagine a better place to spend the rest of my life. As I expected though, it couldn't have lasted forever, so when his breathing evened a bit, he made sure I was sitting securely on the bike and moved away, zipping his pants with a nervous movement. I was left cold and every ounce of my body begged me to voice my disagreement, but I just swallowed, trying to stay calm. When I looked at him, I noticed he was staring everywhere but at me and I realized I was sitting half naked in front of him. Something I didn't mind mere moments ago was now bugging me beyond reason. Slowly, I moved off the seat and pulled my jeans up with one hand, adjusting the Henley with the other. I ignored a small pang of pain as the denim grazed on my stitches; as a matter of fact, I was a bit grateful for this distracting feeling. Contrary to Daryl's escaping gaze, I found it impossible to move my eyes off him, as he stood in front of me, arms down. I waited a couple of minutes, giving him some time to compose himself, but no words left his mouth, as he hovered nearby, pushing his hands into the pockets of his pants in what seemed to be a sheepish gesture. After a while, I swallowed and muttered, "Shouldn't we talk?"

My voice was nothing more than a whisper, but Daryl heard me nonetheless, as he answered in a grave tone, eyes still fixed somewhere, anywhere but at me, "Guess we should."

I waited a moment, looking at his clouded expression and lips that turned into a thin line. Since he didn't seem too eager to start, I cleared my throat and said, "What should I make of it?"

"Of what?" Daryl asked slowly, and I couldn't quite tell whether he really didn't understand or wanted to buy some time. As stupid as it might sound, he looked so miserable, I felt sorry for him.

"Of-" my voice hitched in my throat, and I had to take a couple of slow breaths to compose myself, "Of what just happened." The sentence was weak and somehow, I found the strength to add, "Of the sex we just had."

The mind-blowing sex, should I add.

Daryl bit his lower lip and I had to wait a long while for his response. My nervous gaze was moving all over his form and my hands clenched into fists. I found it impossible to stand still, so I took a couple of unsteady steps to the left, turning back almost instantly to resume my pace. After a long while, Daryl said, "Nothing."

"Nothing?" I repeated numbly, not exactly sure what to say. His eyes snapped to me for a second, and he seemed angry — furious even, lost, and- before I could decide what else was swirling in his eyes, he turned his gaze to the trees.

"Yeah. Jus' a-" he stopped, looking for words, and I noticed in surprise his lips pursed into an even tighter line than moments before, "A moment of weakness. I'm sorry. I shouldn' have."

I couldn't help but chuckle, though I was far from amused. A small pang of something I could only describe as sadness grabbed my chest and my goddamn heart, and yet again, I had to breathe for a moment to compose myself, "You're sorry for having sex with me? Way to go, Dixon."

"What do ya' want to hear?" He snapped, moving his eyes up and staring at me angrily. I noticed with bemusement that every trace of that third emotion I couldn't quite name was long gone, and only pure anger remained in his gaze, "Do ya' think I'm stupid? That I don't know how it works?"

"How what works?" I asked slowly, frowning. He huffed angrily, and I could tell by his frustration that this chat about feelings was way too much for him. Contrary to my yesterday's state however, I was more collected and less doubting myself, and I knew I had to push this conversation or we'd play hide-and-seek for the rest of our lives, however much we have left in this fucked up world.

"The world." Was all Daryl offered and my frown deepened. I sat down on the bike, feeling my thigh hurt in protest as I pulled myself up. Even though I decided to sit, I couldn't quite keep myself still, and I moved my legs nervously.

"I'm afraid you'll have to elaborate a bit," I said, when he didn't say anything for the next couple of seconds. The birds were chirping around us and I couldn't help but wonder whether they were singing before and how exactly could they be so annoyingly cheerful. He wasn't responding, so I added, "Daryl, I just fail to understand you. One minute you're kissing me, next you ask me to go. Then you fight Shane over who should get me back to the house of all things available and then even though you said you'd talk to me, you fucking ignore me, making it your life mission to avoid as much as eye contact."

After I was done, I found myself kind of breathless. Daryl's gaze flickered to me for the shortest moment, and then he looked away again.

"Fuck, princess, what do you expect me to tell ya'? The ones like me don't belong with ones like you." Daryl murmured angrily, staring intently at the road, as if it was its fault that the world wasn't fair. I looked at him for a moment, finding something utterly sad in the way his whole figure seemed to shrink under the weight of his own words.

"Is this why you started avoiding me?" I asked quietly, and after a short hesitation, he nodded slowly, his gaze fixed on the ground. He looked lost and sheepish, and I couldn't help but feel slightly less angry with him.

I sighed, getting off the bike and swaying on my legs slightly. I hugged myself and licked my swollen lips before asking, "Why is that so? Why do you think we don't belong together?"

"Princess-" he grumbled, and I wasn't sure if it was a warning or a sign of helplessness as I forced yet another uncomfortable confession out of him. When I only raised my eyebrows, holding my hands crossed defensively over my chest, he sighed, "Ya' shouldn't as much as look my way, not to mention-" he hesitated, as if wondering what words to use, "sleepin' with me."

"But why Daryl?" I hissed angrily, my teeth gritting so hard it hurt, "You keep repeating the same thing over and over again, and I really don't see any reason behind it. So forgive me when I start to wonder if there's any!"

I watched as the man bit his lower lip, a gesture I categorized as distress on a couple of occasions, before he decided to speak.

"Look. You were your parents' lil' girl. They cared for ya'. They looked out for ya'. Fuck, princess, they did everything they should've and-" his Adam's apple bobbed up and down nervously, and I found myself watching the movement with a wicked interest, "I'm from a completely different world."

"And why does it matter when it comes to you and me?" I asked before I could think about it. My voice was thick with emotion, and I was pretty sure the sudden blurriness in my vision wasn't an effect of not enough moisture, quite the opposite as a fact, and I blinked away tears. Daryl grunted angrily, as if I was a child, who misbehaved, but explained further, looking extremely uncomfortable.

"I don' know how to act, I don' know how to treat ya!" His teeth were gritted, as if it pained him to open up so much. As much as I hated making him feel uncomfortable, I honestly didn't see any other way to work things out. I clenched my hands into fists as he continued, "When I look at ya', I feel like you deserve the best, but- I don' know what that is."

I felt a huge lump forming in my throat and I opened my mouth to say something, but my voice failed me. After a moment I composed myself and asked weakly, "Is that the only thing which bugs you?"

"In the ol' world, would ya' even look at me?" He dodged me with a question, one so full of poorly hidden fear and lack of self-confidence I felt an urge to hug him or comfort him any other way, but I stopped myself, knowing all too well he wouldn't take it with gratitude. Instead, I allowed my hands to fall to my sides. After a moment I tightened them into fists, finding some wicked comfort in the way the fingernails dug into my skin.

I looked at him thoughtfully, and I had half a mind to lie, but I knew he just wouldn't buy it. The truth was, I would probably not notice him — wherever he was living and whatever he was doing — something he made me realize just now. Something, which made me feel a bugging pain somewhere inside, as I understood that because of how the old world was built I would just miss the opportunity to know him.

"No, I probably wouldn't," I admitted quietly after a moment, biting my lower lip. Before I could help myself, the next words left my mouth, "Would you look at me?"

"No." The answer was short, and I nodded, something between pain and remorse hitting me yet again. I wanted to say something, but I closed my mouth as I noticed a thought stirring in the man's head. He added slowly, "Well, maybe just to memorize ya' to jerk off later."

What Daryl admitted shamelessly was kind of obscenic, but — as stupid as it sounds — I felt warmer at his comment and the fact he would find me attractive. The very sentence was also a small reminder of how different our worlds were, "But I wouldn't try anythin', because you're out of my league, princess."

His gaze was moving on the line of trees, as if he was looking for possible threats, but I could feel all too well he was just avoiding the closest danger: his own insecurities, and his view of the world, which — I had to admit — wasn't far from the facts regarding the old America we lived in just a couple of months ago.

I knew my next words were really important and suddenly, I felt sheepish and insecure. I wanted to express my thoughts, but to my huge dismay, it was one of the rare occasions in my life when I felt at a loss for words.

"Perhaps-" I started slowly, studying his profile intently, as he still refused to look at me, "Perhaps that'd be true-", I stopped, finding the words harsh, and I rephrased, "No, not true. Maybe that'd be the reality back then, but Daryl, that'd be our joint loss."

I paused, waiting for him to comment, and when he didn't, I continued, my cheeks reddening, "Besides, I look at you now and that's all that should matter to you."

Nothing came from him again and the silence was starting to irritate me. Making an extremely short list of pros and cons in my head, hopping on the bike yet again, I added nervously, "You know, actually I might be the problem here."

As expected, it gained his attention and he looked at me in bewilderment, "How so?"

I regretted my words for a second, but I decided if I wanted to make it work somehow, anyhow, in any way he would have it, I had to be honest. It was his choice to make, if he wanted to deal with my shit and holding it from him would be unfair to say the least. I swallowed slowly, hugging myself in search of courage or comfort — I couldn't quite decide.

"Yesterday-" I took a deep breath, suddenly finding it extremely hard to voice my thoughts, "When I came into your tent-" I bit my lower lip, yet again, noticing unconsciously I was doing it so frequently during that conversation that the gesture started to actually hurt, "I wasn't just nervous." Another short break, during which I tried to compose myself, but nothing could help my thumping heart, "I had a panic attack, one of many in my life."

I stopped, waiting for his reaction. He didn't say a single word, and his eyes boring into mine, were the only indication that he was listening. I breathed slowly, exhaling through my mouth, as I continued, even though my voice sounded weak and strained, "And now? We're not going for some random medications for Hershel. He found it for me, so I wouldn't compromise our security."

A short silence fell on us, but this time I decided I wouldn't break it first no matter what. Instead, I jumped off the bike and started pacing nervously in front of it. I knew Daryl's eyes were now on me, and he was watching my every movement as if I'd just fall and start sobbing uncontrollably any minute now. Something inside me, an unwanted, irritating voice whispered, that I should have known it would happen.

"I thought you were jus' scared is all," Daryl muttered, his fingers clenching into fists and releasing constantly. His eyes didn't leave my figure even for a second now, even though before my confession he'd stare anywhere but at me and I honestly couldn't decide which one annoyed me more: before, when he avoided looking at me, or now, when he seemed unable to look away. I stopped abruptly, putting my hands on my hips.

"See?" I hissed angrily, "You're rethinking the situation right now."

"Am not," Daryl muttered, not looking away, and at that moment, I found it extremely comforting, "I'm jus' surprised is all." I saw he wanted to add something, but hesitated. I waited patiently, knowing we had to go through this conversation, and it simply had to go one way or another; the knowledge giving me a wicked type of comfort. After what felt like an eternity, he blurted, "Why didn't ya' tell me? How does it-"

"Work?" I finished, when he stopped, seemingly not sure how to end the sentence. He nodded, so I answered, a grasp of control running through me, when I could immerse myself in the medical, technical explanation, "Sometimes, usually after some extremely stressful situation, I just- panic. I have trouble breathing and thinking straight, sometimes my vision blurs and I usually hear loud ringing in my ears. It started after a car accident I had with my brother and my grandmother when I was eight. I've had the attacks for more than seven years, with varying frequency and intensity. Medications and therapy helped, so I didn't have any attacks for almost a decade."

I bit my lower lip, chewing on it forcefully, and I hugged myself before continuing. With the corner of my eye, I noticed Daryl twitching nervously, "They started back up last week. After the barn, I had my first full breakdown and I took off running. Shane found me in the woods and that's when you saw us together. Just minutes before it-" I paused to take a deep, shuddering breath, "You helped me stop one."

"I did?" he asked, surprised. I nodded, swaying on my legs slightly, and I could feel Daryl's gaze moving over me nervously. I forced myself to stand steadily: we had to go through this conversation, and I couldn't have him being too scared to ask all the questions.

"Yeah," I murmured, closing my eyes briefly, which was an attempt to compose myself, but at the same time, appeared to be a huge mistake. Before I knew it, Daryl was standing in front of me, hands hovering awkwardly, as if he had half a mind to grab me. I forced a small smile, and even though a huge lump had formed in my throat, I said bitterly, crossing my arms over my chest defensively, "See? You're treating me differently. I'm not out of your league anymore, huh?"

"Fuck, princess, it's not 'bout that," Daryl said defensingly, but he didn't move away, which only proved my point, "I'm jus'- surprised."

I fought the urge to tell him he had said that already. I fought myself so hard not to cry or yell or pace nervously, so I did the only thing I could think of: got angry at Daryl.

"And looking for a breakdown." I snapped, looking at him challengingly, as I half expected him to start yelling. It was his turn to bite his lip and he nodded slowly, seemingly fighting to control himself. This view was equally annoying and comforting; on one side I wanted him to snap at me, but on the other it was weirdly soothing he could hold his nerves for my sake.

"Fine, I might've been. But not because I'd treat you differently, jus'-"

Yet again, I found myself finishing the sentence for him, as he stopped halfway, "You just wouldn't snap at me like you did? So there you have an answer to your first question. That's why I didn't tell you. Because I don't want you to look at me as if I might break any minute. I'm not a fucking Chinese porcelain vase."

There was a short silence, as I stared at the ground with my face flushed, anger boiling inside me.

"And not a cow," Daryl added after a moment, making my head snap up to look at him in bewilderment only to find him smirking, "Good to know the list's gettin' shorter. What 'bout the duck? Would ya' really quack if I asked?"

I rolled my eyes, but smiled nonetheless, finding this silly joke one of the best things he could have said. It still amazed me: for someone who could be hurtful and struggled to voice his thoughts at times, he seemed to find it extremely simple to calm me down. To my surprise, he continued, solemn this time, "That's fair. I don't want to start treatin' ya' differently, but I need to know more."

I took another deep, shuddering breath before saying, "I'll answer your every question, but on one condition."

"And what's that?" Even though the question was suspicious, he seemed quite at ease. He was standing close to me and I had to fight the urge to touch him somewhere, anywhere, really.

"From now on, we're equals. And I don't want to hear another word about you not being good enough," I said pointedly. Daryl nodded, and I opened my mouth to continue, but he was faster.

"But we can still cross out items on your "who I am" list?" He asked. While his expression was serious, I could see playful glee in his eyes. I rolled my eyes in mock impatience, his little jokes making me happier and calmer than I would ever admit.

"Jesus Christ, grow up," I muttered, but the huge grin on my face sold me, so I added, "You might be funny when you actually talk."

"Nah," Daryl smiled, and I decided that him smiling, not smirking, was one of my favorite views, "I'm just rubbing off on ya', it's your sense of humor that's changin'. Mine's still rubbish."

I sighed in mock defeat, but I could tell he knew I was only kidding. The relief I felt was so strong I had to crouch; my legs were shaking so bad I wasn't sure if I'd be able to keep myself straight. My gesture earned a nervous twitch from Daryl and I moved my hand up to let him know I was fine. He ignored my assurance, kneeling in front of me, and when I finally gathered the courage to ask, I bit my lower lip yet again that afternoon and murmured weakly, "Does it mean-"

I swallowed hard, looking up into his stormy eyes. I found the view and Daryl's patience with me so comforting. I finally had the courage to mutter, "Does it mean you won't run?"

"What, because you're fucked up?" He asked, and I winced at the simpleness and boldness of his statement. Deciding bemusedly we'd have to work on his social skills one day, I nodded. Daryl shook his head vigorously, "Nah."

Somehow, I knew he wasn't done, so I waited. It was just a hunch, though, and right when I decided I might've been wrong after all, and he wasn't planning on saying anything, he almost whispered, "It's good to know that. Not only for your sake, but also mine."

My brows shot up, "It's good to know I'm fucked up?"

If I hoped he would understand his choice of words was poor, the expectancy died before it could bloom.

"It might sound stupid, but from the moment I met'cha, ya' seemed to be too perfect to be true for me. It's good to know you're a human being after all." Daryl's voice was quiet, but perfectly audible.

I nodded slowly and before I could help myself, I added, "So technically, before this conversation you accepted you might have had interspecies sex?"

Daryl blinked and got up, offering me his hand to help me up and I took it gratefully. When I was standing straight, he moved his hands to my hips and said, "See? I told ya' my sense of humor's rubbing off on ya'. Now let's go before it gets dark."

Even though his hands left my body, and he simply moved towards the bike, gathering the crossbow in the process, I didn't feel insecure, abandoned or anything close to that. Instead, when he placed the crossbow on my back, I found myself jumping on the motorbike behind Daryl so eagerly, that he had to steady the vehicle. I muttered a sheepish apology, but the huge grin didn't leave my lips even for a second, as I brought my hips closer to his and embraced him. Just like before, his hands adjusted mine, hiding them beneath the material of the vest and an impossible warmth spread over me, one that didn't have anything to do with the hot Georgia sun shining above us.