More Than This

by Graveyard Whispers

Naomi Payton was Daryl Dixon's childhood best friend. In truth, they were each others only friend. But sometimes growing up means growing apart and when Naomi's ambitions and Daryl's loyalty to his brother drive a wedge between them, will the world falling apart be enough to bring them together again? Hell, will they even find each other again?

27. Bedrest and Breakfast

Naomi

I woke up to the sound of a heartbeat, the rise and fall of steady breathing. Wrapped up in a safe pair of arms, and the last remnants of sleep, I never wanted to move again. It was light out and had been when I'd fallen asleep, so it was hard to know if I'd been like this for an hour or a week. My head didn't even hurt in those first few minutes, and I didn't remember why I was lying where I was. It was just warm and quiet and safe. I didn't even question it, it just felt… normal.

And then it all came back to me.

"Daryl?" I whispered. At the sound of my voice, he jumped a little, his hand squeezed my arm. His body shifted under mine as he tried to look down at me.

"Hey, you awake?" he whispered back. I lifted my head from his chest to look up at him. A huge smile broke out across his face. "How you feelin'?"

I couldn't stop smiling back at him. My head started to hurt again, but it was an echo of the headache it had been the day before. "So much better, but still kinda tired. How long was I out?"

"A while. There ain't a clock in here, but you slept through the night," he said. "Go back to sleep, if you want. Denise said it was good for you, helps your brain heal."

"Yeah, I know what Denise said, I was there when she said it," I reminded him. The desire to stay where I was, warm and safe forever, made going back to sleep very appealing. But I knew I'd fallen asleep curled up against him, which meant he must have been trapped under me all night and would want to get up, which took away a lot of the appeal. "How long have you been awake?"

"Couple of hours," he said. "Hard to know, like I said, there ain't a clock in here."

"Couple of hours?" I repeated. "You just been lying here, awake, for a couple of hours?"

"Yeah," he said. I saw his cheeks getting a little red, and he glanced away from me.

"Why didn't you get up?"

"Didn't want to wake you," he said. "Denise said-"

"I need rest," I finished for him. "Yeah, I know, but weren't you bored?"

"Nah," he said. "It was kinda nice. Quiet… until you woke up and started yapping."

"Well, sorry to ruin it for you," I said, but he was still smiling in a way that made it clear I hadn't. I'd spent enough time hunting in the woods with him to know that Daryl appreciated silence more than most, and never really minded being alone with his thoughts. He still didn't move, one of his hands absentmindedly stroked my hair. Hesitantly, I rested my head back down on his chest again. "Thanks for looking after me."

"It's what we do, ain't it?" he said. "Look out for each other?"

"Yeah," I said, and I was glad he couldn't see my face. Deep in my chest, the memory of all he'd done for me sat heavy as a paperweight. It was what we'd always done, and why the smell of him made me feel so safe. It was why, when his face had swum into view at the Savior's base, part of me had thought I might have dreamt him up as some kind of comfort while the rest of me was fading. And I'd been okay with it. Either he was with me, and I was safe, or death had come to me wearing Daryl's face, and in that case, it wasn't so scary. "But you were especially great yesterday."

His fingers brushed the hair from the side of my face. I felt his chin settle back down to rest on top of my head. "I ain't done yet."

"You carried me out of a burning building," I said. "You're done."

"Nah," he said. "You gotta take it easy today. Anything you need, I'm gonna get it. You just tell me what it is, and I'll go."

I was as touched by his offer as I was annoyed by it. "That's ridic-"

"Don't argue with me," he said.

"I ain't about to drop down dead," I told him. "I've rested enough, I'm fine. All I want is to go home and wash all this damn blood out my hair."

I could feel it, caked in there and hardened around the bandage that Denise had put in. It had clearly bled some more in the night. I hoped getting it out would also take the worried look out from behind Daryl's smile. Having it there as a giant, bloody, matted reminder of my injury, probably made everything look worse.

"You sure you don't want breakfast or nothing first?" he asked. "You should eat."

"I can get something when I get home," I said, hoping I was talking loud enough to cover up my stomach rumbling. I'd been fine until Daryl had mentioned food, and now I was starving. "Don't wanna put Denise out any more than I already have by taking her food too, y' know?"

I propped myself up on one arm. Daryl sat up too, looking horrified, "What the hell are you doing?"

"Getting up," I said. "Going home."

"No, you ain't."

"Daryl," I strapped myself in for an uphill battle. "I can't lie here all day. What if Denise needs to use this room to help someone else? At least let me go home."

I knew, when he was in this kind of stubborn mindset, I had to pick and choose what to fight him on. One small step at a time until I eventually got what I wanted. I could see him mulling it over.

"Not before Denise says it's okay," he said, swinging his legs over the side of the infirmary bed. "Lie down."

"Daryl…"

"Lie down," he said again, barking it like an order. "I'll go get Denise."

"I feel fine," I said, but I did lie back down again. Pillow wasn't as comfortable as he had been, but the bed was still warm and smelt like him.

"Let's let a Doctor judge that, yeah?" he said. I watched him scramble to put his shoes on like it was some kind of race, and if he didn't move fast enough, I'd leap out of bed and start running laps around him. "You said you felt fine before, and then you damn near collapsed."

"Well, I mean it this time," I said. "I promise."

"That don't mean shit," he said. "Not now I know you were talking out your ass before. Wait here."

I narrowed my eyes at him but didn't say anything else before he left the room. He was annoying the crap outta me, but it was also unbelievably sweet. I'd forgotten what he was like when he was trying to take care of me. I'd gotten so used to doing it for myself that it was hard to let him take the reins. I listened to the sound of his voice in another room, too far away to make out what he was saying. I thought about all of the times I'd been sick as a kid, and he'd brought me food every day because he didn't trust my Momma enough to look after me right. Our survival instincts were hard-wired into us, but at some point, those wires had got crossed and fused together. Like ensuring the other's survival was as much a part of who we were as securing our own.

"Morning, Naomi," Denise said, as the door opened again. I could see Daryl close behind her, peering over the top of her head to check that I hadn't moved. She didn't look too flustered, but I wondered what he'd pulled Denise away from for this nonsense. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," I said. "I'm sorry this crazy man dragged you in here for no reason."

"Ain't no reason," he said. "She's gotta check you over, that's the damn reason."

"You ain't gotta do this," I told her. "I feel okay."

"I think it's best for both of us if we do," she said quietly, with a quick glance at where Daryl was pacing behind her. She checked my pulse and my reactions, took my temperature.

"Any idea how long I was asleep?" I asked.

"About fourteen hours," she said. I sat up a little straighter, thinking I'd misheard her.

"Fourteen?" I looked at Daryl. "Can't believe you let me sleep that long."

"Hey, you clearly needed it, sleepyhead."

"Any lingering headaches?" Denise asked.

"A little," I admitted. I saw Daryl stop pacing and look at me. "But it's extremely mild, a lot better than it was yesterday."

"She should sleep more, right?" Daryl said.

Denise looked at me, "Do you feel like you need more sleep?"

"No," I said. Mostly, I was just hungry. But I didn't want to say that in case it prompted Daryl to take all of Denise's food at gunpoint.

"Then I don't see why you can't go home," she said. "I'll just take a look at this cut on your head first. Did you get a look at what they hit you with?"

"Just this old pipe," I said. Daryl flinched like it was him who'd been hit.

"A pipe?" he repeated.

"Was it rusty?" Denise asked.

"A little," I said. "I don't really remember, I didn't get a good look."

"That bad?" Daryl asked.

"I'm sure it'll be fine," she said. "We just need to watch for infection. Have you had your tetanus shot?"

"Yes."

"You sure?" Daryl asked.

"Yes."

"Then just keep it clean," Denise said. "I'll give you a few new bandages to take home with you."

"Thanks."

I sat patiently and tried not to react while she peeled back the bandage on my head, but as she tugged on it, there was a fresh stab of pain through my scalp. Daryl's eyes bored into me, clearly trying to assess how much pain I was in. I clenched my jaw and tried to keep my reactions to a minimum. Everything Denise was doing was medically necessary, but I worried if I flinched too much, he'd explode at her. When she was done checking, she handed me a wad of fresh bandages.

"Try getting up slowly," she said. "See how you feel."

I swung my legs over the side of the bed and dangled there for a moment before I slid down. My head still hurt a little, but there was no change in how much it hurt. I didn't feel dizzy or sick or like I was about to blackout anymore. Maybe Daryl's nerves about this were contagious, but even I felt a little relieved about it. Denise smiled at me, "All good?"

"All good," I said. "Thank you so much."

"No problem. Just take it easy for a couple of days, and you'll be fine," Denise said. Then she looked at Daryl, "She'll be fine."

"Alright, climb back up," he said to me, patting the bed.

"What?" I stared at him. "Why? Denise said I can go home."

"Well, you ain't walking," Daryl said like walking was the equivalent of bouncing all the way home on my head. "It's easier for me to pick you up if you get back up here first. You want me to carry you like yesterday, or you want a piggyback?"

"Erm… neither," I said. I looked back at Denise, "I can walk, right?"

"You can walk," Denise agreed. Daryl looked dangerously close to disagreeing, and she kind of backed away from him a little bit. "It won't do her any harm."

I walked to the door before he could say anything else. "Thanks, Denies. C'mon, Daryl, let's go."

I knew if I kept walking, he'd follow, and that might save Denise from an earful of whatever Daryl was scowling about. That earful was wholly meant for me, and I didn't want him to direct it at anyone else. Sure enough, I heard his footsteps hurry to catch the door before it closed behind me. It was bright out. And there were already people up and moving around Alexandria.

"Naomi," Daryl snapped. He was following closer behind me than my own shadow, his arms tense and ready like he thought I was going to fall down at any second. "She said to go slow."

"Yeah, I heard her," I said. "I can't go any slower, else I'll start moving backward."

"Maybe you should," he muttered.

"Will you quit moaning?" I said. "Denise said it wouldn't do me any harm."

"Don't mean it'll do you good, though, does it?" he said. "What's your rush?"

"Been asleep for fourteen hours," I reminded him. "Or weren't you listening? Wasted so much of the day already."

When we got to my place, he opened the door for me. I felt his hand lightly press into the small of my back as he gently guided me inside, propelling me into the living room and toward the couch. The house was quiet, Eric and Aaron must've been out someplace.

"Sit," Daryl said. "You ain't moving from here."

"How long am I going to be under house arrest?" I asked. "Until Denise says it's okay or until you do?"

"Me. Don't know if Denise knows what she's talking about," Daryl said. "You hungry?"

"Starving."

"Why didn't you say that before?"

"I just wanted to go home," I said. "There's food here. Shame Eric ain't here."

"Why? Is Eric the only one who knows how to make some damn eggs?"

"How am I supposed to do it from the damn sofa?" I said, annoyed that he'd set so many rules that didn't allow me to move, and then berated me for being too lazy to make breakfast for myself.

"I wasn't talking about you," he said. It took me a second to get what he was saying. "I'll do it."

"You?" I said.

"Yeah," he said, defensively.

"Daryl, you can't do everything for me from now until you decide I'm better," I said.

"Watch me."

"Well, I need a shower, you gonna do that for me too?" I said, and then I froze up. It had just slipped out. I'd been so caught up in our little bickering match that I hadn't thought about how everything was different now. That we had been tentatively crossing that line, gently blurring the boundary between our friendship and something more.

"Pfft. No, 'course not," Daryl said, but he also didn't look like he opposed the idea of joining me in the shower, and I could feel my cheeks burning as I realized that I didn't either. We looked away from each other. I tried to think of something else to say. Daryl cleared his throat, "I'll… uh… go make some food."

"Sure," I said. "I'll just... get this blood out of my hair before we..."

"Sure," he said. "I'll be… down here."

"Okay," my voice was weirdly high and squeaky.

He was so flustered he forgot to yell at me for getting off the couch too fast. I heard him go into the kitchen as I climbed the stairs. I picked up my towel from my bedroom and headed for the shower.

I don't know if it was the pressure or the temperature or both, but I almost bit my tongue in half trying to stop myself from yelping as the water from the shower made the cut on my head sting. As it ran down towards my feet, it turned the color of rust. Chunks of dried blood circled the drain. A constant stream of whispered curse words flowed out of my mouth until the water ran clear, and I could stop. My head stung.

I got dressed and dried my hair off with the towel, gently patting the wound as dry as I could get it. I picked up one of the bandages Denise had given me. Swiping my arm across the fogged up glass of the mirror, I tried to get a good look at the cut, but it was too far back on my head. I tried to part my hair and feel my way with my fingers, but every time I got close, it hurt. I picked up one of Aaron's shaving mirrors and tried to hold it up so I could see the reflection of the back of my head, the way hairdressers used to. But then both of my hands were full, one with the bandage one with the mirror. Moving my hair became impossible.

Fucking fuck, how am I supposed to do this?

A knock on the door almost made me scream.

"Naomi?" Daryl called. "You still in there?"

"Er… yeah," I called back. "You okay?"

"Yeah," he said. "You've just been quiet for a while. Thought… thought maybe you'd fainted again."

I unlocked the door. Even though I'd been talking to him through it, I still saw the relief on his face when it opened. "I'm fine. I'm just tryna get this damn bandage on, but I can't see what I'm doing."

He took it from my hand. "Let me."

"You don't have to…"

"I know I don't have to," he snapped. "I want to. Sit down."

I backed away and sat on the edge of the bath, feeling the anger radiating off him like a heat. It was enough to shut me up for a moment. Sullen and annoyed, he came to stand beside me in the bathroom. I looked up at him. The bandage he'd taken from me was clenched tightly between his fingers, his eyes fixed on the top of my head, and I caught the fear in them. Under all of this running around and snapping at me, he was a little scared. He hadn't managed to shake the feelings he'd had back at the Savior's base, where I'd been unable to stand without help. That was still what he saw when he looked at me. And with Daryl, fear always came out as anger. I caught his wrist, and he looked down at me, the annoyance in his eyes flared into something more.

"Daryl," I said quietly. "I'm gonna be fine."

He blinked a couple of times, and I could see him suppressing the urge to argue with me, but the fight in his eyes was calming down. "You almost weren't, though."

"But I am," I said slowly, and I tightened my grip on his wrist just to prove it. "I'm right here."

He slipped an arm around my shoulder, pulled me closer to his side. "I should've…"

And there it was, the real reason he was running around like a damn fool. He felt like he should've stopped this from happening altogether.

"You didn't do anything wrong," I said. "I got myself caught. I got myself knocked in the head by mouthing off. You've done everything right. I don't mean to be ungrateful for all this."

"You ain't being ungrateful," he said. "You've always been the world's shittiest patient, that's all. Now, sit still."

I let go of his arm and turned my head so he could get a better look at it. I'd fixed him up enough times, worried about him enough times, to know what this was like when the roles were reversed. I looked at him in the mirror as he parted the hair around the wound on my head. I saw the way his face changed when he looked at it, and I knew the feeling, the same sick rage I'd had whenever someone had hurt him. Anger so intense it makes you feel queasy.

He tugged a little too hard on some of the hair close to the cut, and I winced.

"Sorry," he said. "I ain't as good at this as you. Rough hands, y' know."

"You're doing great," I told him, and it drew a small smile from the corners of his mouth. I wanted to say something more, something that would alleviate the heavy feeling in my chest. The mix of peace and confusion he stirred in me these days. The sense of home, the promise of something new. I'd started a thousand conversations with him in my head, trying to explain what he was to me. But even then, everything I'd thought had been inadequate. How do you put something like that into words when you can't name it yourself? Somehow, it was a little easier to think about it when I was looking at his reflection. The glass was enough of a barrier that I could survive looking at him long enough to get out how I felt. "Daryl?"

"Yeah?"

"Whatever this is… or isn't… between us," I said. His eyes met mine in the mirror, tense and nervous. It was almost enough to shut me up, but I still managed to get it out, "I ain't tryna talk myself out of it."

"No?"

"No," I said. "I just don't want things to get messed up.."

He nodded and was quiet for a moment. He gently fixed the bandage in place. "Me neither."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he said, and I was kind of relieved about it. "Already lost you once. I ain't tryna rush you. But we can talk about it if that'll stop you freaking out."

My heart dropped because I hadn't expected him to give into it so easy, "We can?"

"Yeah, but not today," he said. "Don't want your concussion talking for ya."

"Alright," I laughed. "That's fair."

I breathed a little easier. At least that gave me some time to work out what I wanted to say. To sift through all of the half-drafted letters to him in my head.

"Okay," he stepped back, let my hair fall back into place. "You ready to eat?"

"God, yes," I said. I stood up and watched him swallow back some kind of comment about moving too fast. I followed him back downstairs. Two plates had been set out on the table, eggs and toast on each one. There was an unfamiliar vase of flowers between them. I looked at it, trying to remember if they'd always been there. "Daryl did you…?"

"Shut up and eat," he said, pointing his fork at me. "Probably already got cold with all of your faffing around up there."

I had a few mouthfuls. Still warm and delicious. I looked up at him again. "Daryl, these are really good."

He didn't look up from his plate. "Ain't nothing special."

"Nah, I'm serious," I said. "Don't tell Eric, but I think I like these better."

"See, there's that concussion talking," he said, and what little I could see of his face that wasn't being hidden by his hair went a deep shade of red. He mumbled something too quiet for me to catch.

"What was that?" I asked.

"Maybe I could make them again for ya sometime," he said.

"You wanna make me breakfast again?" I asked. He wouldn't look at me, but I could see a little smile on his face.

"Yeah," he shrugged. "Sometime, maybe."

"I'd like that," I said, and I looked back down at my plate too. We ate in this warm and happy silence, neither of us knowing what to say or wanting to break it either.

"Found my bike in the garage while you were upstairs," Daryl said. "Aaron must've brought it back for me."

"Wait…" I said. "You got your bike back? Was that guy there? The one who took it from you?"

"Nah," he said. "Negan had it."

"Huh," I said. "Took out Negan. Got you your bike back. That's a pretty successful night. Worth a little bump on the head."

He stopped eating, looked up at me with such seriousness that his eyes looked a shade darker. "Don't say that. Don't even joke."

"Sorry," I said and finished off the last of my breakfast. When we were done, Daryl tried to convince me to take a nap. I reminded him how long I'd slept for, not that any of my other reminders had done anything to calm him down. I tried to get him to go home, he'd been by my side since we got back and I worried Rick and the others would be missing him, but he wasn't having any of it. Eventually, we reached a compromise; I'd stay on the couch and read, only getting up for bathroom breaks and emergencies, and he'd go fix up his bike in the garage, so he was close enough to hear me if I needed anything. My head was mostly fine, only the cut hurt anymore, but he seemed convinced I was moments from passing out again.

"I picked the most boring looking ones so they might make you go back to sleep," he said when he came back down from my room with a selection of books.

"These are great," I said as I took them from him. He looked annoyed. "I could always come and sit in the garage while you-"

"Stay on the damn couch," he said. "Ain't nowhere comfortable in there."

"You're impossible!" I yelled at him when he opened the door to the garage.

"Back at ya!" he yelled back before the door shut. I smiled, settling down to read. This had been kind of nice, although it had come from something terrible. I liked having him around so much. I didn't like seeing him worry so much, if I could only get him to dial that back a little, this could've been as nice a day for him as it had been for me. I felt a bit guilty for enjoying how much I'd liked him looking after me, and I hoped he knew that I'd do the same for him. Although, I prayed he'd never be in a position to need it.

I heard the front door open. I assumed it would either be Daryl coming in from the garage or Eric and Aaron back from wherever the hell they'd got to.

"Hello?" a woman's voice called into the house. It took me a second to place it.

"Carol?" I called back. "That you?"

I got up from the couch, heard her footsteps approaching, and damn near ran into her in the doorway.

"Hey!" I said, trying to mask my surprise. She smiled at me, but it wasn't a genuine one. I think Carol was so used to fixing on a smile that she could do it without thinking. There was so much fear and worry behind her eyes. Not like there had been when the Saviors had us, it was quieter and longer-lasting.

"Hope you don't mind me barging in," she said. "I saw Daryl on the way in, he said it would be fine. He also told me to give you hell if you were off the couch. So, if he asks, let's tell him that's what happened?"

"Or, we can just tell him I wasn't off the couch," I said. "I could do without another earful about resting."

"Deal," she said. "How are you, are you okay?"

"Oh, I'm fine," I said. "Mostly just bored as shit."

"Glad you're okay," she said. "And sorry about-"

"Oh, please," I waved her away. "None of it was your fault. Come, sit with me."

"Thanks," she said and sat down beside me. Her eyes were a little brighter than usual and she didn't seem like herself. I kind of knew what was coming. I'd seen her in there. The freakout she had might have been a misdirection, but the fear was real.

"You alright?" I asked.

"Not really," she admitted. "Everything I did back there…"

"You did what you had to," I assured her. "I'm sure Maggie and I owe you our lives for that."

"Maybe," she said, but she didn't sound at all sure.

"It was them or us," I told her. She looked away from me.

"I'm not so sure it was," she said. "They only got violent when we did."

"That wasn't on you," I said. "It was technically me that started it."

"You only did it because you thought you were protecting Maggie and me," she said. "Which is kind of what I wanted to talk to you about."

"Oh, yeah?"

"I love everyone here so much," she said. "But I'm scared of who I'd have to become to keep them all safe…"

"It ain't all on you, Carol," I said. "If there's ever another fight, you can sit out. Nobody would hold that against you. People here want to protect you as much as you want to protect them."

"I can't keep doing things like that again. I can't keep killing," she said, looking at me with such desperation it nearly broke my heart. "You get it, don't you?"

"Yeah," I said. "I've done some awful shit for the people I love. But, I can tell you for nothing that the alternative is worse."

"What do you mean?"

"I didn't fight back when Terminus first got taken over," saying it out loud was hard, "I thought compliance was the best way to keep everyone safe. I was so wrong. The only reason Mia ain't here with me now is because I didn't do shit when I should have."

"The only reason Sophia isn't here with me now is that I didn't keep her close, didn't protect her when the Walkers came by, or teach her how to defend herself," Carol said. "So, not fighting didn't work out for me, but fighting isn't working either."

"You weren't to know how it would play out," I said.

"Neither were you," Carol said, quietly. We sat next to each other in our shared guilt over two unrelated little girls. I'd heard Daryl talk about losing Sophia, and it all sounded like a run of accidents and misfortune, nothing had sounded like Carol's fault. Did she feel the same toward me when she heard about Mia? Why didn't that help the heavy guilt that had sat in my stomach since she'd been taken?

"You got a solution to all this?" I asked. I was surprised when she nodded.

"I'm thinking of leaving."

"Leaving?" I repeated. It was clear she didn't just mean on a run. "For how long?"

"A while," she said, in a way that made a while sound like forever. I sat up straight, searching her face for any sign that this was a weird joke.

"No," I said without thinking. "Where would you go?"

"It doesn't really matter," she said. "I think it would be easier for me to keep sane, and stop myself from becoming who I was back at the Savior's base if I didn't have anyone but myself to protect. Am I making sense?"

She was. Kind of. It would be a more comfortable life, cut off from caring about people, removing yourself from all of the violent bullshit that can spring up around negotiating with tough people in tough times. But being far away from people that you cared about didn't seem like much of a solution either. Not knowing what was happening to them, what they might be going through… that could be so much worse.

"Wouldn't you miss having people around?" I asked.

"Of course I would," she said. "But it's better, I think, for me to be alone. At least for a while. Until I know who I am again."

"You can work all that shit out right here," I said. "We can help. You can't just up and leave us. Do you know how much folks will worry about you?".

I liked Carol. I wanted her to stick around, but a very selfish part of me also wanted to stop it for Daryl's sake. She was one of the few people that Daryl seemed to trust enough to call a friend. This was the biggest group of people I'd ever seen him so connected to. He'd clearly come such a long way, but I didn't know how he'd cope with one of them just up and leaving. But then Carol's bottom lip started to tremble, and I realized it wasn't a case of her being close to breaking point, she'd already broken.

"I've killed so many people," she whispered. She wiped a tear away from her cheeks. "I really thought you'd understand."

"Me?"

"I saw the way you fought for Maggie and me in there," she said. "I really thought you'd get this."

I closed my eyes for a second, saw a flash of José's face right before he died. The blood I'd spilled at Terminus. All those dead kids I'd had to put down. The havoc the Wolves had wreaked on this place. The Saviors we'd slaughtered in their sleep. It was enough to make anyone retreat, and I had to ask myself if I hadn't found Daryl when I did, would I still want to be here?

"I get it," I said quietly. "But, please, give it a week to think it over. If you decide you still want to leave, I'll take you to the Kingdom."

"The Kingdom?" Carol said. "No. I don't want to be near anybody."

"And you don't have to be," I told her. "But I ain't letting you go without anyone knowing where you are. I've got a friend in the Kingdom, and I won't tell anyone else that's where you've gone. But I have to know that you're safe and that you're someplace you can come back to us when you've worked through… whatever it is you need to work through."

"I don't think-" she started to shake her head.

"You won't always feel this crappy."

"You really believe that?"

"I gotta believe it," I shrugged. I remembered when I'd been close to giving up too. It never really went away, but it did come and go in waves. Walking off on your own in this kind of world was a suicide mission, and I couldn't let it happen. Carol smiled then, it was small, but it was the first real once since she'd got here. I hugged her and hoped that when her week was up, she'd feel different. Things had to start looking up now. With Negan defeated, we'd have a regular supply of food from the Hilltop. If anyone like the Wolves ever came back to try and take Alexandria, they'd find us strong and able to defend ourselves.

Daryl

The garage felt like it was the farthest place I could stomach being from her. Any farther and I wouldn't be able to breathe right. From here, I'd hear if something went wrong or if she was in any kind of trouble again. I knew Naomi thought I was freaking out too much about this, but if I was honest, being around her was helping me hold it together. Everything felt out of whack. Like the world was tilting in the wrong direction, and everything would start slipping away from around me if I didn't hold on tight enough. Doing things to help her made me feel like less of a useless piece of shit. Even bickering with her took my mind away from that little voice in my head that told me I should've stopped it from happening.

I shouldn't have left her side.

I should've tracked them all faster.

I should've made everyone storm the place the second we found it.

But I didn't feel like I could tell Naomi any of this while she was supposed to be resting. Worrying about my dumb ass probably wasn't on the list of things that help fix concussions. Fixing up my bike made things a little easier and gave me something to focus on, something to do with my hands. I wanted to punch the shit out of Negan, and whichever one of his little cronies had tried to bash Naomi's brains in with a rusty pipe. But they were all dead. So now I had all this anger and nowhere to put it.

I wondered if having my bike back meant that Dwight was dead. Negan was clearly the guy they'd been running from and gone crawling back to kneel to, that's how he'd wound up with my damn bike. Maybe Dwight and his girl hadn't been forgiven for leaving. Which was weird because Negan hadn't seemed like that tough a guy, in the end, we'd taken him down pretty easy. But I guess sometimes, people rely on their reputation to scare people off, rather than living up to it. Second-hand stories can become tall tales pretty damn fast.

Merle had run with some guys like that. Guys who were whispered about like they were some kind of hardass but took a beating like a little bitch. I guess Negan's lot just got lucky that everyone at the Hilltop was so weak.

"Should've known you'd be over here," Carol's voice made me look up.

"Oh, hey," I said, kind of relieved to have something else to think about. "What are you doing here?"

"Thought I'd stop by and see how Naomi's doing," she said. "Is she home?"

"Yeah," I said, "but she should be resting. So, if you go in and she's not lying on that couch, give her hell from me."

"Will do," Carol laughed but didn't move. "How's she doing?"

"Better," I said. "She's got this big gash on her head from where they hit her. But she's been insisting on walking everywhere and she ain't collapsed again yet, so I guess that's a good sign."

"And, how are you doing?" she asked. "You didn't come home last night."

It took me a moment to figure out what she meant because last night had been the only time I'd felt like I had come home for the night. The house four doors down from this one, with its fancy kitchen and stuffy rooms, wasn't home. The girl reading on the couch; she was my home.

"How'd you know about that?" I asked. "Ain't you and Tobin joined at the hips these days?"

"Rick told me," she smiled.

"So, things with you and Tobin are good?"

"They are," she said, but it was non-committal. "He's great, and I really like him."

"But?" I said it felt like she'd trailed off just before she got to what she really wanted to say.

"Tobin doesn't know the real me. He knows who I used to be. Before all of this. Back when Ed was still charming, and our lives were... fun. Before he…y'know."

"Yeah," I nodded, so she'd didn't have to go into it.

"Guess I just missed being her," she said. "Tobin makes me feel like her again."

"I get that," I said. It was hard to imagine that version of Carol. The one who smiled and wore cardigans and baked shit all the time. "For the record, I like who you are now. The person you are now wouldn't go near a guy like Ed. Person you are now probably saved my girl in there, too."

"Oh, she's your girl now, is she?" Carol's smile widened.

Crap.

"Well, no… she ain't… I mean, she kinda..."

"Still haven't told her, huh?"

Only Aaron knew. Which I guessed meant he'd probably told if Eric. But as far as I knew, that was it. Did that make it okay to talk about it with Carol? I looked at her, "Actually…"

"What?" she said. Her eyebrows shot up. I could hear the excitement in her voice.

"Well, not exactly," I said. "Not yet, but…"

"But?"

"I dunno… things have been..." All this tiptoeing around it made it accidentally weirder than if I'd just said it outright, took a deep breath, and owned up to it, "We kissed."

"You did?"

"Uh-huh," I said and hoped that she wouldn't have any further questions.

"So, does that mean you're…?"

"We ain't talked about it yet," I said. "I don't want to spook her."

"Spook her?" Carol repeated, trying not to laugh. "You know she's not a horse, right?"

"Naomi ain't..." I started, not really knowing how to explain it to someone who didn't know her the way I did. "She can find it difficult to get close to people. Letting them in, y' know?"

"Jeeze, it's a wonder you two ever said a word to each other," Carol said. "You're not exactly an open book yourself."

"Nah, she's different than me," I said. "Friendlier."

"I'd noticed," Carol laughed.

"She can talk to anyone," I said, thinking of some of the absolute dipshits she'd made friends with at college without them actually knowing her at all. Until I'd rocked up and blown it for her. "But it doesn't mean she's letting them in. She's been let down so often that it's safer for her not to rely on anyone, so she ends up kinda keeping everyone at a distance."

All the times that her Momma had up and left her, she'd learned how to look after herself and act like everything was okay because she knew that if anyone got wind of it, she'd wind up being taken into care. Taken away from me.

"Not everyone, though," Carol said. "Not you?"

"Nah," I said, but it was kind of a lie. There were things she didn't even talk to me about.

"I kind of get it," Carol nodded. "After what I went through with Ed, I… I couldn't imagine anything long term. You think you know someone and then… they can change on a dime."

"That why you're different around Tobin?" I asked.

"It's maybe part of it," she said.

"You think that'll ever change?" I asked.

"I'd like to hope so," she said, but she didn't sound convinced. Then she was quiet for a moment. "I'm sorry Naomi got hurt. I did my best to… stop her from -"

"It's fine," I waved away the apology she was building to, knowing that Carol probably felt a little responsible for what had happened. "She's pretty unstoppable when she wants to be."

"She sure is," Carol gave me a small, sympathetic smile. "I'm gonna head in and see her, I hope you guys work things out."

"Thanks," I said, and although it wasn't a done deal yet, I couldn't help but smile. "Just walk in, so she doesn't have to get up, and if you'd mind, maybe not telling her…"

"I won't spook her," she said. "Don't worry."

She left me to get back to the bike. I listened carefully when she knocked, was glad to hear it was Aaron who answered and welcomed her in before the door closed. It was nice of Carol to drop by, but she had me worried about how Naomi would deal with whatever had happened to them all at the Savior's base. That wound on her head had looked pretty bad.

I remembered how she looked at me in the bathroom mirror while I was doing my best to fix it up without falling apart.

Whatever this is… or isn't… between us, I ain't tryna talk myself out of it.

I really wanted to believe her when she said it. It looked like she believed it herself. I knew she was scared, I was too. Almost losing her had just reminded me that I wasn't equipped to deal with it. What if we got together - properly together - and things didn't work out? Would our friendship survive a breakup? Was it better just to love her from a distance, and never have to find out?

Moving from what we had now to something that might not work… that was a big decision. Especially for someone like her. Once Naomi's decided she cares about someone, she has a real hard time letting go. Even if that person's a piece of shit. Even if they don't deserve her. Merle and I heard our dad was sick, and we celebrated. Naomi heard her Momma was sick, and she'd flown her and Mia home to take care of her. Naomi didn't give up on people once she'd committed to them. Even if they weren't worth it.

Like he was trying to prove my point, Lucas passed by. It looked like he was also heading for Naomi's door. That son of a bitch had eaten people, and she was still okay with him hanging around her like a bad smell.

"Where do you think you're going?" I snapped. He hadn't noticed me in the garage, and my voice made him jump like the dumb coward he was.

"Oh, hi, Daryl," he said, with a smile so bright it had to be fake. I'd never given this guy a reason to like me. "How you doing?"

"Where you going?" I asked again, suddenly not in the mood for any kind of pleasantries.

"Just… thought I'd stop by and visit Naomi," he said.

"Well, you can't," I told him. "She's resting."

"Really?" he said. "Because I thought I just saw Carol go in there."

"No," I said. He looked at me like he was expecting more detail, but I was done talking to that little weasel. I didn't like that he was here, sniffing around. I wanted him to step the hell away from me, and her, and the house. He was still giving me that dopey grin. Every second it was on his dumb face made me angrier.

"Look, I just heard about her accident," he said. "I wanted to see how she's doing."

"Weren't an accident," I said. "She was attacked."

"Yeah, I know," he said, that dumb smile faltered a little. "I just…"

"Attacked during a fight that you decided to sit out," I said.

He closed his stupid mouth. The smile finally faded. I watched as he took a second. "You've really found a way to blame me for this?"

"I'm just saying, if there'd been more people there, maybe them assholes wouldn't have been able to get the girls without us seeing."

I knew I was being at least a little bit unreasonable, but I really wanted him to back the hell off. I wanted him to turn around and walk away, keep walking until he was all the way out of Alexandria.

"Not all of us can fight," he said. "Some of us have to stay here and-"

"Stay here, and what?" I asked. "Plan the funerals of the ones brave enough to go out and get shit done for the rest of you dipshits?"

"Fighting is not the only thing it takes to keep a community running," Lucas said.

"You can keep telling yourself that," I said. "If it helps folks like you sleep at night."

"And what does that mean?" he said. "Folks like me?"

"I know your type."

"Yeah, and what's that?"

"A coward," I said. "Always finding excuses for not getting involved when the truth is you're scared of hard work. You think you're too good for it. Didn't see you out helping to dig them fields."

"I helped with the wall."

"Pfft," I said. "Sure."

I'd spent more time digging than I had at the wall, but hadn't seen him there when I had been. He seemed like the kind of guy who, before all of this, had things easy. He probably hadn't gone hungry until the world broke down, he'd probably always managed to hold down a job, probably paid enough to provide for himself. Probably could've provided for someone else too, back in the old world. He'd been stable. Lucky. And I hated him for it.

I bet he never felt this kind of anger. Bet he'd never punched a wall until both his knuckles were bleeding because he didn't know what else to do with all his rage. Bet he'd never had people cross the street to avoid him or look at him like he was a caged animal.

He was calm. Cool-headed. Safe. He was the kind of guy who could take people's taunts about him without getting violent. I'd been nothing but an asshole to him, and this was the closest he'd come to a confrontation. He was friendly. Nice to everyone, even if they weren't nice to him. Annoyingly likable, despite the shit he'd done.

No-one in the world was good enough for Naomi. But if I'd had to make a list of the kind of everything I'd want in someone who was with her; 'stable, lucky, calm, safe, nice' they'd all be on the list.

If Naomi was going to be with anyone, she deserved someone less fucked up than me.

The kind of guy good enough to step aside if someone better came along.

In short, not me.

"Stay the hell away from her," I said. "Quit sniffing around with all of your empty-ass condolences when you could've just been there to help in the first place."

I thought that might shut him up, that he wouldn't have the guts to talk any more shit to me. But he narrowed his eyes and took a step closer. "She doesn't need you telling her who she can and can't be friends with. If Naomi doesn't want me here, she can just say so."

I hated how he said her name. I hated that he knew it at all.

"Maybe she's too nice to tell you to get bent," I said.

We both knew that wasn't true and he quite rightly didn't buy it.

"I'm going inside," he told me.

"No," I dropped the spanner I was holding and took a step toward him. "Stay the hell away."

"You must not think very much of her," he stopped but didn't leave, "if you think she's too stupid to judge for herself who she wants to be friends with."

"Nah, that ain't it," I snapped. Naomi's judgment of people was dead on, it was her kindness that was the issue. Giving people the benefit of the doubt, looking for the best in them. Even me.

"No? Then what is it?"

"I don't want anyone I know hanging out with fucking Hannibal Lecter."

His face got real red. Embarrassed and angry all at once. His jaw clenched, and I felt a little spike of satisfaction. I was finally going to get an excuse to do what I'd wanted to since I'd met him and punch him in his goddamn face. He was usually so annoyingly calm. I liked this better.

"You don't know," he said, gritting his teeth, "what it was like for us there."

Us.

Him and Naomi.

Us.

"Yeah? You keep saying that," I said. "But you ain't ever tried to tell us what it was like, you just keep bitching and expect all of us to just forget what you did."

"You want to know what it was like? You really want to know?" he was all up in my face. My fists clenched automatically. I felt the fire that burns before a fight. Familiar. Welcome. "Alright, come on."

I wanted it to be him that threw the first punch. I knew I'd goaded him into it, but if he swung first, then at least people wouldn't see it as me getting reckless and violent. I knew what people's first assumptions of me had been, and I didn't want to do anything to prove them right. Not when I'd been working so hard for them to at least put up with me being here. But he didn't. He turned on his heels and started storming away from me. Then he glared over his shoulder like I was meant to be following him.

I broke into a run. Maybe he was just moving us out of the garage, an empty street was a better space for a fight, after all. But he kept walking.

"Hey!" I yelled after him. "Where you going? You running from me?"

"Keep up," he yelled back. "You want me to explain myself? Fine."

He marched up the path of one of the houses. It took me a second to realize it had once been Deanna's. I hadn't been in it since we'd first arrived. I knew folks like Maggie and Eric spent a lot of time hanging out here, making decisions about the town, but even looking at the outside of the place made me feel cooped up.

"What are we doing here?" I asked. I wondered if this was him being a coward again, running to the town committee to complain about me.

"You really want to know what happened at Terminus?" Lucas turned before the door. "Why I did what I did. Then get in here."

He pushed the door open and waited for me to make a decision. This wasn't what I wanted. But I followed him in. The house was as weird as I remembered it. I could hear voices talking something over in another room. Lucas burst into Deanna's old study, making a beeline for the line of videotapes behind her desk. He started pulling them out, littering the floor until he found the one he wanted. One labeled 'Terminus.'

"You really want to know what happened, you can fucking watch this and then I don't want to hear you say shit about it again."

He slammed the tape into the VCR so hard I thought it might break it.

"You fucking serious?" I asked him.

He didn't answer, just switched the screen on and pressed play.

"Shit," he said as Naomi stared at out at both of us. There was a little frown on her face. It was bruised too. Old bruises, but bruises nonetheless. She looked like she hadn't eaten in a while.

"Er..." her gaze flickered from us to someone behind the camera and back again. "Is that necessary?"

"Let me just skip this," Lucas said, as Deanna's voice answered Naomi behind the camera. "Should've realized it wouldn't just be me on this."

"Nah," I grabbed his arm, stopped it mid-air. "Let it play."

He looked at me like it was a terrible idea, and maybe it was, but it was also easy to talk myself into. I'd finally know what happened to her. I kind of knew, from things that Lucas had implied when I'd questioned him. But now I'd know for sure. And that could only be a good thing, right? Because this way, it meant she wouldn't have to tell me about it. This way, we wouldn't have to talk about it at all, but maybe I could still help her.

This didn't really count as snooping when I already knew most of it, right? Because how much else could she be hiding? How much worse could it be than what I already knew? Right?