Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The town was pretty barren. Looked like it’d been hit early and hard. Everything of any great obvious worth had been lifted months ago but that never meant that it wasn’t worth a look. A group of scavengers would arrive in a vehicle, spread out, hit the high-value targets and go before it got too dark or they drew too much attention from the dead. A lone scavenger could afford not to be arsed with big obvious targets. A lone scavenger could take their time, do a block of apartments in a day, a row of suburban houses the next. They could take the time to check a phone directory and find the post depot or rinky dink, small practice vets, doctors and dentists. It took longer but who gives a shit when you’re not in a hurry.

Kit knew it was better by far to take the time and avoid the obvious targets. Largely because it also meant avoiding other people. The dead were easy. It had always been the living she’d had trouble with, even before day one of this messy new world.

As far as she knew the nob-heads she’d been stuck with at the start were still alive and kicking but she was pretty sure she’d made the right decision by ditching them when she did. She hadn’t liked the way some of them looked at her before the world turned to shit and was pretty sure the other women in the group would have regretted turning their noses up at the thought of joining her and striking out on their own, within weeks.

The next group had been a better mix. Less dickheads with egos the size of a bus and more level heads to balance out the ones that were there. Unfortunately, nice people turned out to be a bit useless in a world that really required back-to-basics survival-mode thought processes and skill sets. It had been jarring to see some members of the group totally check out of any degree of even self-defence, never mind protection of the whole group.

She wouldn’t have trusted half of them to guard her when she slept and didn’t. She’d slept one night in three, the entire time she’d been with them and then only because she had the added reassurance of the dog at her side. She still hadn’t been full grown at that point but she was an early warning system at least.

When they’d made the group decision to settle down at a promising and defensible train terminal building, she’d been happy enough. When they made the decision to invite other survivors to join them by advertising their existence throughout the surrounding area, she’d made her mind up before the meeting was even half way through. She hoped, for the kids’ sakes that it worked out for them but she was pretty bloody sure it wouldn’t. She didn’t say any goodbyes, just packed up her kit and pissed off. One or two had tried to talk her out of it. She hadn’t wasted her breath trying to convince anyone to come with her. She’d put across her opinion at the meeting as forcefully as she could but none of them had experienced a group dynamic like her previous bunch. They expected everyone to be like them; plucky little survivors trying to make the best of a bad situation and helping each other get through it all. “Good luck!” she’d said and meant it “You’ll need it.”

Since then she’d decided not to bother with groups again, if she could avoid it and get herself organised. She’d headed north first, just to get away from the ridiculous searing heat. And it was stupid, she knew but she’d wanted to be closer to home, so she’d headed further east. She knew three thousand miles of ocean might as well be the moon and that the moon would probably be a damn sight safer prospect than home at this juncture but sometimes your brain is just stupid like that and really, it didn’t make any difference which way she went, so she went east.

She’d equipped herself well and left caches of vehicles, weapons and supplies secreted discretely in strategic spots all over the American south-east. She’d picked all the little towns she came across clean. She was well practiced at this and was always careful to recce the area first for groups and possible hazards. She was rarely surprised on these raids.

Garvey was the name of this particular blot on the landscape. "5,500 people" according to the sign on the way in (although the sign looked like it had been there a serious while), “Drive carefully.” It’d said. “Yep!” she thought, “I certainly will, thanks for the hint.”

After two full days of prep and planning, she’d parked up the landy in the most inconspicuous suburban garage she could find on the edge of town, done the rest of that street the same day and secured the least promising looking house for that night’s rest. Standard operating procedure – and it worked.

As long as you were quick and quiet the burbs were always easy. The dead here were invariably few and far between, as most of them tended to congregate around the main routes through towns. The places that the living, in their bigger, noisier groups were more likely to pass through.

She’d found a phone book and a street map in the house where the landy was garaged and had sat down to make a plan of action that night. She chose the walk in wardrobe of the master bedroom. Big enough to drag a single mattress in and make it comfortable but no windows, so she could just shut the door and pour over the possibilities after dark, without attracting company.

She’d been here four days and was pretty sure there was at least another day or so before she was ready to call it quits and make a move. She might even take a day off and rest a bit. It’s not like she had to be anywhere. She’d found some useful bits and pieces here that had eluded her in other towns. Garvey had been good to her so far and she thought it had a little more to give. The resources she’d gathered would give her some breathing space. She’d found enough drugs for some trading with Hilltop maybe. The landy could do with some repairs and their smith was a pretty useful mechanic too by all accounts. She was sure she’d have enough to barter for what she needed. She’d never for a second consider staying with them, as 'Jesus' had asked her to more than once, but they weren’t bad people and they respected trade.

Sitting on the big oaken desk of some local big-wig, eating tomato soup straight out of the can for lunch, Kit looked out across the streets below and noticed something odd.

She wasn’t sure which direction he’d come in from but he was heading through the centre of town by the looks of it, quick and quiet, with no interest in anything around him. He looked suspiciously like he was tracking something. He was limping ever so slightly and looked like he’d been in the wars but if what she’d heard about him was half true he may have looked like that for the whole of the past three years and today was just another day.

…………………………………………….

She’d been following at a distance for ten minutes now and it was pretty clear that he was having a bad day. The leg wasn’t slowing him down much but it seemed to be a fairly fresh injury and he was in some pain with it. He was very focussed, far too focussed to notice her stealthy shadowing of his movements, but he was clearly tracking something or somebody. She’d heard a passing car as she’d reached into her bag for the tomato soup. She’d missed seeing it go by but it could only have been a couple of minutes ahead of him. Maybe that was the quarry here. If so, he was unlikely to catch up on foot unless they’d stopped nearby and why would they? Garvey was dead in every sense.

She watched him with interest as he passed the gated yard on the edge of town. He’d slowed and stopped his quest for a moment to take it in. Kit had found it on her first full day out and had avoided that side of town ever since. Twenty to thirty  children, shuffling back and forth, frothing at the mouth and reaching out, as they clocked her movement. "Sadder than a sad thing on a miserable Sunday afternoon," as one of her foster parents liked to say, she forgot the name.

He hardly missed a beat. Took out his knife and put each one of them out of their misery. There was a funereal respect to his efficiency of movement, she thought. She liked him for those kids. She’d wanted to do the same herself – would have done so herself, tomorrow or the next day maybe, before she left. It didn’t do to advertise ones presence to the living by offing ALL of the dead on day one, unless there was an urgent need to. He hadn’t had that concern though, as far as he knew he was alone in town and wouldn’t be back this way but he’d taken the time to provide this small mercy. She was a hundred feet or more away but she could almost see the thought cross his mind. “Should I just check if there’s any gas or propane or something in that shop?” If he’d had the time to spare she was sure he’d have done it, as she herself had planned to. She’d left four cans of propane by the door for just that purpose. Whatever his mission was she saw it override his natural inclination. He’d done all he had time for.

She’d started out just wanting to be sure she knew where he was. She’d follow to keep eyes on, until he was out of her town and then return to the day’s work. That had been the plan.

The more she watched, the more she felt like she saw a kindred spirit in him though, like she knew him, knew how he ticked. He was good this guy. Quick, efficient, knew his shit and knew how to focus on the task at hand. She found herself wondering what had him so transfixed, so single-minded. Why was he stalking whatever or whoever he was stalking?

It got to the point when they were right on the edge of town and cover was going to be harder to come by, when she had to admit that this was really all just a bizarre level of curiosity on her part. There really was no further need to follow him, if there ever had been to begin with. The longer she did follow him the more likely it was that he’d spot her doing so. The dog knew when to shut up and was merrily padding along, guarding her own back but once they were out on country roads, she’d have to drop back so far that she’d have to let him out of her sight to keep herself hidden. Was there any point in risking her own neck, risking him not being who she took him for, not being safe? He didn’t even LOOK safe. He looked downright dangerous, if she was honest. Maybe she’d got the wrong guy? Maybe she’d read too much into a few observations as she followed him. Could she risk him not being a decent guy?

Chapter Text

Every minute was precious now. Those girls had been taken over half an hour ago. He didn’t want to think about what those assholes were doing to them, he preferred to hope against all reason that there was still time to catch up before they got to this barn. If the barn even existed.

The kid from Hilltop had been the only witness of the girls being taken. He’d been too far away to be seen and had kept his head down and his ears open. That had been something but Daryl couldn’t really understand how anyone could hide while two girls they knew and lived with, ate with, had known from the start, were dragged kicking and screaming into some asshole’s van and driven off. He thought about Carol, Maggie, Beth – damn it ANY of the others. He hadn’t had much time for Lori but he’d have fought even for her. He just couldn’t support the idea of making a decision like that in their case. Even if it’d been hopeless, he just couldn’t have sat on his hands like the kid did. It had probably been a good decision, a smart decision but for Daryl there wouldn’t have been a decision at all.

He dismissed the anger rising in him and forced himself back to the task in hand. Focus on the trail. The tracks had been clear at the start and seemed to indicate a direct route through the town and out the opposite side. The boy and his father had gone back to their car and would head to Hilltop. They’d be back with more bodies as soon as they could, he knew, but it would take at least an hour to get there and at least another to get back. He could safely assume he’d have no backup, if he did find the barn, for well over an hour.

He touched the flare at his belt tentatively. In daylight, when backup arrived they’d better be nearby when he set it off. Whatever happened, even if he found the barn in the next few minutes he’d have to do as the boy had done and sit on his ass waiting for well over an hour to be sure that backup was in the area and had headed, as he’d instructed they should, to this side of town.

Daryl wasn’t sure he could sit tight. Even for strangers he’d never met. Those girls didn’t deserve whatever these guys had in mind and he just hoped they’d be in decent shape to fight back if he had to go in early. He knew it would come to that. If the girls fought back at the first sign of a distraction and he was lucky enough to catch those bastards unawares, maybe they’d have a chance. Three against five. Could be worse. Could be better.

That was the best case scenario though, that was if the boy was right about what he’d heard from his hiding place. If he’d misheard or garbled it up then they could be half way to DC by now, in a barn three towns away. He didn’t even want to think about that scenario.

The tracks were so messed up by now that he was largely just guessing. It seemed like there was a lot of stopping and starting, mostly near junctions. He hoped against hope that it meant they were unsure of their route. Prayed that it meant they weren’t as far ahead of him as they should be by now. He was reasonably sure this was the road they’d been on but there was nothing to see now. He wasn’t even looking down anymore. His leg wasn’t up to a run at full pelt but he was just covering the distance now as fast as he could.

Up ahead, he saw a building through the trees and knew it must be sitting just off the roadside. It didn’t LOOK like a barn but it was a decent size, he couldn’t afford to mess up his approach if this was the place, so he took off to the side of the road, planning to go at it through the woods.

He’d taken out a handful of walkers with the knife on the way here but the building itself looked to be shut tight. A good place to hold up if you were a bunch of assholes looking for some privacy, he guessed. There was no time to check the whole perimeter. If this was the place he guessed the van was on the other side in the far corner and if that were the case then there was also another entrance on that side.

This side had a beat-up looking back door and two boarded up windows. He went in as clean and quiet as he could. The door lock looked like the knife would do it from a distance but on closer inspection Daryl found that it wasn’t even locked.

Inside it was pitch dark once the door shut behind him but prior to that he’d taken stock and seen an empty corridor with two internal doors. The corridor was clear. No walkers and no trip hazards. He could hear a rhythmic knocking sound coming from the doorway at the far end and didn’t want to consider what that might signify but there was definite movement from the middle door too.

Considering the layout of the building, Daryl had a decision to make. If one of the girls was behind that end door, likelihood was that there was only one asshole in there with her right now. It killed him to think about this strategically but he was no use to her if he stormed in there and took out one guy, only to find himself and her, blocked into a room with no other easy exits. And then they'd have to deal with the four or five other assholes, in the main part of the building, with the other girl and some warning that something was up. There was a chance he could take out one guy quietly enough not to raise any attention from the main group but more likely, asshole number one would make a big old noise and get them both killed with his last breath.

On the other hand, behind the other door, there were likely four or five other assholes and a very scared girl. One against four was a risk, obviously but maybe the girl would be useful, once he’d provided another target for her captors to concentrate on. The other girl might be able to do the same, or at least fight hard enough to keep her waste of skin busy and herself alive until he could get back in there to back her up.

Daryl hated guessing. Hated not having time to really scope this situation out and make a proper plan but that rhythmic bump was like nails on the chalkboard of his patience. No time. Go!

Chapter Text

It wasn’t the place, apparently. That had been VERY clear from the second he’d busted through the door.

The racket he’d made had ensured that all the walkers in the room (twenty or so, at a guess) had immediately headed his way. He’d have turned straight back around and out the way he’d come in but he’d bolted so far into the space already that he was being cut off by the walkers who’d been fixated with the bumping sound on the other side of the connecting wall. The ones on the opposite side of the room had been congregated at the plate glass showroom window. Lawn mowers - dozens of them, everywhere but they wouldn’t provide much cover. He caught the closest walker with a bolt, slung the crossbow behind him and pulled out both knives. He could manage twenty.

As he got stuck into the first few, she appeared from nowhere, she’d cut a swathe from the back of the pack and met him in the middle. There were still walkers to either side but they were hampered by the bodies of their fallen comrades and the lawn mowers. The walkers tried to clamber over the machines and as they moved under them they sprawled pathetically to the floor. It might be hilarious, in any other context he thought but here it was just damn useful.

She hadn’t said a word but they’d made eye-contact as their latest targets had been dispatched and she stashed one of her blades and grabbed his wrist, pulling him forward at a run. She was right, the walkers had all staggered to the back of the room where the disturbance had started quickly enough but they weren’t fast enough to keep up with the action. The living would always have a speed advantage over these shambling husks, as they degraded more and more over time. They were out the glass front door and had it barricaded before many of the dead even realised they’d moved at all.

“Are you bitten?” were the first words she spoke and they sounded strange to him. She wasn’t local, that’s for damn sure but he couldn’t place the accent and realised it didn’t really matter right now.

“Nah, you?” he responded taking her in for the first time. She was a little younger than him but not by much, he guessed. Late thirties, maybe forty at a push. She looked good on it. She was short-ish but not ‘small’, she exuded strength, she was robust, obviously fit, needed to be out here and an experienced fighter. Smart too, by her choice of clothing. Everything was utilitarian and the fabrics were tough. The jacket she wore was far too much for today's heat but it looked to be some kind of riot gear, stab resistant material probably.

Daryl had never liked being confined. Knew the sleeveless look might be considered foolish in this world but usually preferred the freedom of it. Not today, today he wore a fully sleeved shirt under his waistcoat and was glad of it when he noticed the tears in the sleeves, where the walkers had grabbed and clawed at him in close quarters.

She shook her head as she peeled off the riot gear jacket and tied it around her waist. It was then that he noticed her curves. Strong and robust she may be but she was also most definitely a woman. And he noticed her hair. Shoulder length and a similar, light chestnut, shade to his own but the mid-lengths to the ends were a slightly unnatural reddish hue. He found himself absentmindedly wondering what it had looked like when it was newly done and covered the full length. It must have been a hell of a red to leave a trace three years on. He had a vision of her with fire engine red hair, before the turn made such luxuries of personal expression a very very distant last priority.

Shaking himself out of a daze he remembered where he was and what he was doing. “You just passing or what?” he asked suspiciously.

“Nope. Followed you from town. I like to make sure I know where everyone is before I settle down to some serious looting. I was just going to escort you to the edges and head back but you piqued my interest. What the hell are you looking for out here?”

“You followed me?” Daryl was incredulous “that wasn’t smart lady, I coulda been anyone. Still could be as far as you know. You look smarter than that.”

“Oh I am, don’t worry. I trade with Hilltop occasionally, I know who’s around these parts and I knew who you must be straight away. – It’s …. Daryl? Right? From Alexandria?” she asked.

He’d never considered how much other people might know about him from what might be said at Hilltop, or anywhere else the group had contacts. He guessed it made sense that other smaller groups would gather as much intelligence as they could from the contacts they had. He just hadn’t considered himself as a piece of intelligence before. He suddenly realised she’d been using the singular “I”.

“You out here on your own lady?” He asked, genuinely impressed but kind of pissed at her, for her own sake, if she was.

“Just me and the dog.” She indicated a giant beast padding towards them from the trees across the road. It looked to be some kind of husky with a hell of a dose of wolf in it but it looked good natured enough and didn’t even raise a heckle as it planted itself next to the woman and regarded him without concern.  She still shouldn’t be treating him with such a lack of wariness but he understood, looking at that dog, why she may feel safe enough to do so. “And my name’s Kit. ‘Lady’ makes me feel old.” She said, offering her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

A little startled, he took the offered hand in his own. She had a firm grip but there was no aggression in it and although she was obviously used to working with them, he found the skin of her hands soft to the touch. “So, are you going to answer MY question, or shall I just leave you to get on with whatever you were doing on your own and mind my own business?”

 ..........................

She’d heard of him from Hilltop. One of the Alexandria crew. The leader was some local cop or sheriff or whatever they had in little towns here (Dick? Rick? Nick?) but Daryl had been picked out as one of the leaders too. Maybe not a leader. Maybe just one of the more useful members of the community. He’d rated a mention anyway and the idea of a crossbow wielding redneck (whatever that meant in reality – she didn’t really understand the label, must be a cultural thing) had caught her imagination. The name stuck. She’d recognised him from the description immediately. Someone could have had a similar winged jacket (or stolen his) but that and the crossbow and the hair and the tracking skills. Had to be the same guy. And the word was that the people from Alexandria were relatively civilised and reasonable. Certainly not the types to attack a lone female.

She shouldn’t have approached him though; it had still been an unacceptable risk. Perhaps she wouldn’t have done if he hadn’t needed her help. Although, to be fair to him, from what she’d witnessed she rather suspected that he could have managed on his own if necessary.

She’d told the truth, he had piqued her interest with his obvious ‘mission’. Piqued it enough to put aside her own safety and help him. Make herself known to him. Shake his bloody hand, for goodness’ sake. Did anyone even do that anymore? She had no idea. She barely spoke ten words out loud a day, all to the dog. Her last human contact had been ‘Jesus’, three weeks ago. They’d traded goods, she’d got some useful intel, shared some useful intel and they’d gone their separate ways. All without any kind of physical contact and there she was, offering her hand to a perfect stranger. And from what she knew of him, a pretty handy, pretty dangerous, perfect stranger.

She hadn’t yet regretted any of this though. He’d told her what he was looking for and why and she hadn’t doubted him for a second, she’d been straight on the same page. Told him she thought she knew the place. Took him to the car she’d stashed a couple of hundred metres from the lawn mower showroom (there were three others, just like it, on each side of town – ‘just in case’ cars she’d set up before approaching the task of dredging the town) and offered her services to help rescue the girls.

She hadn’t even asked if he intended to wait for backup or was planning on trying a solo rescue. She realised she hadn’t asked because she knew the answer. He was the decent guy she’d taken him for. She knew it in her bones. She felt like she knew just how this guy ticked and it wasn’t a million miles from her own makeup. No way on Earth he was waiting for the cavalry.

“These guys are probably expecting the barn to be a relatively dead-free-zone if they came past here any time prior to five days ago.” She said, pulling off the last of the camouflage foliage and opening the driver’s door, chucking her bag and rifle in the back. “But it’ll be crawling with the fuckers by now.”

Daryl wasn’t overly happy about riding shotgun but the car was a stick shift, so he sucked it up. No time to argue about who drives anyway. “How you know that?” he asked as he took his place next to her.

“It might’ve been me that attracted them on my way into town.” She admitted sheepishly. It seemed to Daryl that this may be an interesting but long story, so he didn’t press the issue. “Anyway, it shouldn’t be bad enough to put them off the place. If there’s a few of them they could clear it easily enough but it will have slowed them down.” She looked over at Daryl as she turned the engine over, shot it into first and took off. “We might still be in time.”

It was unspoken. What would happen to the girls, in the hands of those men. They could be cannibals for all either of them knew. But cannibals might not be that bothered about their meat being alive for long. So, much as it sickened both Daryl and Kit, they were secretly both hoping for rapists. Preferably shy ones, who craved privacy and some comfortable hay bales, rather than an overcrowded van.

“Hey,” Daryl started, suddenly realising what he was asking of this woman. “If we find this place and they are there…”

“Hmmm?”

“If shit goes south. If anything looks wrong and you think we’re on a losing streak; you cut and run alright!” He could see her spoiling to argue. “I mean it. If it looks bad you just get out. We’re going in to save those girls but we might not be able to and if we can’t I don’t want to be responsible for them gettin’ their hands on you too.”

Whatever she’d planned to say, that took the wind out of her sails.

“Promise me you’ll do it. You’ll get out. Leave me, leave the girls, get to this car and get the hell out. Can’t have you on my conscience.”  He looked at her expectantly. Pleadingly?? “Promise?” Not so much a question as an order.

“Look, we’re almost there and we need to talk tactics,” she said, wondering if he could be deflected by more pressing matters. She had no intention of running. Would rather off herself at the last possible second than leave him and two helpless girls, when there was even a chance they could win the day but for some reason she balked at giving him an appeasing lie.

“The barn has a big main area and two store rooms at one end, separated by a central corridor, with a door at each end, one into the barn and one on the outer wall.” She could see he wasn’t happy with the change of subject but she had him. “The store rooms were full of mouldy old bags of grain or horse feed or something last time I was there. I’m sure that’s where they’ll take the girls for some private time.” She winced at her choice of words but couldn’t think how else she could have put it that would’ve sounded more acceptable.

“OK. That’s good I guess.” He looked thoughtful, as he started to think it through but Kit had known this detail from the second he’d mentioned the barn. She already had a plan. But he wasn’t going to like it. 

Chapter Text

“You know it makes sense.” She stated again. He did. He did know. It made perfect sense. She was absolutely right and it could work. It was certainly their best chance at a winning plan. He just really, really hated it.

He hated the idea of her taking his bow, yes. She’d spoken knowledgeably about it though. Assured him she had a similar, if lesser, model in her arsenal and would be capable of using it. She’d admitted she wouldn’t be able to reload it but she was hoping only to need one clean quiet shot. Daryl would provide enough noise and distraction to cover her assault on the asshole behind door number two.

It made absolute sense that she should be the one to attack the two store rooms. Those two girls would be beside themselves with fear already and would surely react better to being rescued by another woman than by some scary ass new guy they may not recognize as a friend. They hadn’t seen him in town, they had no idea he was tracking them. They wouldn’t be expecting anyone to rescue them, let alone that guy from Alexandria that they may or may not have seen at Hilltop the last time he visited over a month ago.

It all made sense and he didn’t like any of it but the thing that he hated most was that she’d just handed over her assault rifle. Just like that. Not a flicker of concern at handing over a much more powerful weapon to a perfect stranger. Swapping it for a crossbow she’d just admitted she’d only be able to fire once. That and her own nine mil handgun, along with the two hunting knives he’d seen earlier, were all the weapons she’d have. From what he knew of her and her plan, she’d leave that handgun untouched if she could get away with it. She’d only resort to that if the shit really hit the fan or it looked like she’d lost and it was that or ‘worse than death’. He hated to take the more powerful rifle but these were the weapons they had and if he was the one going in the main door and expecting to find at least three targets (maybe four??) spread randomly around a large barn, then he was the one in need of an assault rifle. She was right but he hated it.

They parked well back from the building and approached stealthily on foot. The dog had been left at the car to guard it. Daryl wasn’t sure how great of a guard dog it actually was, as it still hadn’t raised a heckle in his direction but he was glad of some kind of defense system in the car, in case any of the assholes escaped the barn during all the carnage and tried to make off in their vehicle.

She indicated the back door and told him to give her one minute before he went for the main entrance. They wordlessly nodded luck to each other and went their separate ways.

The door was fastened but not locked. It opened outwards easily and without a creak or squeak to be heard. Kit was thankful for small mercies and slipped inside the cloying staleness of the barn. Inside it was almost black dark but she knew the positions of the doors from her previous visit and the brief recce she’d had while the outer door allowed light into the corridor. She could hear muffled jollity coming from the main barn behind the door at the end of the corridor. From the right hand store room she heard the unmistakeable struggle of a full on fight. The girl on the right was fighting back. Kicking and screaming and clawing her attacker it sounded like. She heard him too. She was getting some hits in and he was semi-shouting as he tried to get her under control. Kit guessed he was embarrassed in case his fellow rapists overheard the trouble she was giving him.

Kit was worried by the lack of noise from the other room. It was possible that the other room was empty and the girl was in the main barn, in which case she worried for Daryl but she could find out quickly enough and go to help him if necessary. She’d already made her choice. Bless the hell cat in the right hand room. She’d provide ample distraction for her own attacker not to notice that the (possible) guy next door was being murdered.

Kit tentatively opened the door on the left to see a girl, semi-naked and out cold on a sack of horse feed. The guy was facing her with his back to the door, messing with his fly. Kit didn’t know if this was ‘pre’ or ‘post’. She hoped for the former and shot Daryl’s crossbow, sending a bolt clean through asshole number one’s head. She wished she’d had time to kill him an even slightly more painful way but she didn’t even have time to check the girl. There were no other threats in this room, so she dropped the crossbow, turned on her heels and made directly for door number two.

…………………………………..

Daryl took note of the mini-van parked up out front and the fifteen or so walkers, piled up next to the barn door, where they’d been dragged after the barn had been cleared. They looked like they’d been finished off with knives to minimize noise and he prayed that that had taken long enough to save the girls – that he and Kit had made it in time.

He busted through the door and sent a burst of rifle fire into the space before he even registered what was in there. He was going for shock & awe and he got it. He got one guy right in the neck in that first burst and another in the arm. The winged guy dove for cover behind some huge piece of hay bailing equipment but asshole number three was a more imminent problem. He’d grabbed for his shotgun and was swinging it around when Daryl shot him point blank, between the eyes, with the handgun in his left. ‘Winged guy’ had started whimpering and was frantically scrabbling beyond the cover of the farming equipment now. Daryl saw what he was going for. There was a cache of weapons over on a bench against the wall to his right. With one last scan to make sure that there weren’t any other threats in here, Daryl raised the handgun again and shot the guy, nice and clean through the back of the head. He then finished off the first guy he’d shot in the throat and made his way to the storage room corridor at the back of the barn.

The right hand door was open but the room was quiet. The left hand room was an explosion of noise. There was a hell of a struggle going on in there. The noise came to an abrupt halt as he burst through the door and he suddenly found himself faced with two very sharp blood soaked knives wielded by a pumped up Kit, who’d whorled around expecting asshole number three, only to find the sky blue concern of Daryl Dixon staring startledly back at her.

“Clear?” She breathed, shuddering as the adrenaline coursing through her moments before began to dissipate and she lowered her shaking arms. He grunted and nodded in response, coming down from his own adrenaline hit, even as he looked into her own stormy grey-blue eyes.

The girl was in the corner of the room, pulling on clothes and fighting back tears, cradling an injured arm and limping painfully. She was shouting something about Wendy. Kit assumed that was the other girl’s name. Stashing her knives, Kit broke eye contact and eased past Daryl, heading for the other room. She checked the girl and found her breathing. She had a nasty cut on the side of the head and bruises on her arms. She’d been punched a couple of times by the looks of her and had clumps of hair and skin under her finger nails. She’d been a fighter as well – bless her.

It looked like her fight had paid off too. Kit wasn’t a doctor, or a police officer and wouldn’t have known how to examine the girl properly but as far as she could see there was no obvious damage down below and no tell-tale evidence around her thighs or buttocks. She covered the girl up as best she could before Daryl or the other girl came in and saw any of this and tried to gently but firmly rouse the girl.

Daryl had, so far, never been so glad that Kit was here. He really had no idea where to put himself right now. He'd checked the dead guy for weapons but he was no further use to any of these women. He’d have loved to be some kind of help to them but knew that a random male stranger was going to be no comfort to either of the girls right now and Kit seemed ‘on it’.  He excused himself from the entire hallway and headed back to the main barn for the weapons cache. At least he could do that without getting in their way or causing them any further discomfort. Hopefully by the time he returned both girls would be in a fit state to be moved.

…………………………..

Wendy was coming around slowly, with the encouragement of her friend Clara. Kit allowed her to take the lead, bringing the younger girl back to the land of the living, while she concentrated on clothing her and checking her wounds. Nothing life threatening and no broken bones.

“Clara? Is it?” she asked as she worked “you OK? Is the arm bad?”

“I’ll live.” She answered distractedly, catching herself she looked back at the older woman, giving her the attention she deserved “Thank you!” she breathed. “Where’d you guys come from anyway?” She asked, suddenly aware how unlikely their rescue by two random strangers had been. “The rest of them dead too?” She asked.

“Daryl cleared the barn.” Kit answered, returning Wendy’s shoes to their owner’s feet.

“Daryl?” Clara mumbled. “Dixon? From Alexandria? – I thought he looked familiar.”

“You can thank me all you like love and God knows you’re welcome for my part in it but it’s him you owe for saving you really.” At that, a huge clamour erupted in the hallway.

Chapter Text

Daryl took his time checking the bodies for additional weapons and grabbing the guys’ bag. He figured he’d head back, let Kit know he was going to fetch the car, give them all a little longer to recover without him hovering. He figured the girl that was already up and about was limping and the other one had been out cold last he’d briefly seen. Neither was going to be up to any kind of walk and they wouldn’t want to get back in that mini-van. He vaguely wondered, as he opened the door into the corridor, what kind of reception he’d get from Kit’s dog without her there. He didn’t have time to reach a conclusion.

The outer door swung open at the same moment and a lone man strode into the hallway without looking up. Daryl saw him open his mouth to say something, maybe shout something to the friends he expected to be in the store rooms. As he opened his mouth he raised his head and caught sight of Daryl and the holdall, as the door swung shut behind him.

There was just enough light from the barn end of the corridor for the two men to make each other out but nothing more. They were comparable in size, asshole number six was carrying a bit of a beer gut but he had the advantage of being a good ten years or so Daryl’s junior. Daryl didn’t register any of that and neither did asshole number six. The holdall hit the floor as the door slammed shut and the two men clashed, in a frenzy of blows, as they each wrestled to get to their knives while preventing the other from doing so.

Kit flung open the door, shedding a shaft of light from the camping lanterns that lit the store room into the hall. She saw the frantic fight in front of her and as Daryl momentarily pushed asshole number six against the opposite wall to get in a swift body blow, she lunged forward behind him and drove her knife through the guy’s eye socket. He looked so surprised as he went limp in Daryl’s arms and slumped to the floor. No less so than Daryl. “Thanks.” He nodded.

“You’re welcome.” Kit replied, turning to Clara. “How many were there Clara?”

“Ugh… six, there were six.”

“How many did you get in the barn?” she whispered to Daryl, not wanting to worry the girls with the idea that there were more on the loose.

“Three. He’s number four,” Daryl indicated the heap on the floor by kicking its leg “you got 2 back here right?”

“Yeah, so that’s six. OK, Good.” She smiled at him, relief flooding her face.

They broke eye contact as Clara piped up from the store room. “I think Wendy’s back with us. She’s groggy but she’s talking.”

“I’ll get the car. Let’s get the hell out of here.” Daryl mumbled, as he retrieved the holdall and eased past Kit to get to the exit.

“We’ll be outside in a minute.” She promised, returning to help Clara to support Wendy as she tried to get up.

………………………………

Daryl didn’t need to worry about the dog. By the time he reached the car, the three women were coming out of the barn and as he tentatively opened the passenger door the dog shot past him and headed straight for Kit and the girls. The sight of a friendly dog, eager to meet Kit’s new friends, was just what the two traumatised youngsters needed. As their hands were gently nuzzled they broke into smiles that belied the terrifying ordeal they had just endured and Kit began to let herself believe that they were young and strong and they’d recover from their nightmare with time and their friends around them.

Daryl brought the car to them. Crunching gears indicated that he wasn’t exactly comfortable with a manual gearbox. Kit worried about the girls’ reaction to sharing the car with a brusque, burly, monosyllabic male. She needn’t have. Her words to Clara had hit home and she took the lead as he opened the back door for them.

“Mr. Dixon, Wendy and I, we owe you our lives.” She began. “We can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done for us,” she looked briefly at Kit “both of you. I don’t know how you knew we needed help or how you came to rescue us but we’re truly thankful. Our folks will be too I’m sure.” It was too much that she would be ready to hug him in thanks but Kit saw from his discomfort at her words, that he wouldn’t have appreciated a show of physical thanks anyway. She understood that – she was happy to give the girls what comfort and support she could, under the circumstances but she wasn’t naturally a ‘huggy’ person either. She certainly wouldn’t have been comfortable receiving one out-of-the-blue from a member of the opposite sex either. Daryl briefly made eye contact with the girls and with a dismissive utterance and nod he accepted their thanks. That was the best he could do. Kit imagined they were lucky to get that.

“Yeah, you’re welcome girls.” Kit added to Daryl’s grunt. She ushered them into the back feeling like their head mistress or something. “You can relax, those bastards are all thoroughly dead and we’ll get you back to your people.” She smiled reassuringly, as she secured the door and pointedly made her way to the driver’s side of the car. Daryl slipped into the passenger side, as unobtrusively as he could manage and the dog followed suit but decided against staying with him, preferring the company of the girls in the back, who were happy for the company and the comfort.

“Daryl tells me that the two you were in Garvey with went back to Hilltop for reinforcements.” She informed the girls as she started up the car. “They won’t be back yet, not for another half an hour or so at least, so we’ll head back to town and take the road back out to Hilltop, that way we’ll meet them on their way here and you’ll be back with your own people faster.” She was already swung around and back on the road heading to town. “Sound like a plan?”

“Sure does, thank you ma’am.” Said Wendy. The first words she’d uttered to anyone but Clara. Her voice was reedy and croaked but she was coherent and positive, which was the best anyone could hope for under the circumstances. Daryl reached into his pack and retrieved a half full bottle of water, which he instantly passed back to the girls with a gruff “Here – drink.”

It didn’t escape Kit or Daryl’s notice that the first sip both girls took got swirled and spit straight out the back window. Neither wanted to analyse that, or even acknowledge it.

“No worries Wendy and my name’s Kit.” She gave Daryl a sideways glance that screamed ‘let’s keep this light’ and added to him “Ma’am makes me feel even older than ‘lady’.” she nodded to her own pack at his feet adding “I got half a bottle in mine too. Take some yourself.” Daryl did as he was instructed, passed her the bottle when he’d had a couple of mouthfuls. She did the same and passed the remainder back to the girls. They were on the point of pouring some out for the dog when Kit piped up.

“Don’t waste it on her. She’s been drinking all day and she’ll get more when we’ve dropped you off with your people. I have plenty of water in town.” The girls nodded and complied, although they felt cruel doing so. Kit saw their discomfort. “Your people might’ve been in such a tearing hurry to get back here that they failed to think ahead about little survival essentials like water, so you keep that for yourselves OK.” Her assurances about the dog made them feel easier and the thought of their people coming for them lightened the girls’ moods immensely. Kit felt a little warmth in the timid smiles they gave in response to her words. She might never really know (or want to know) what had gone on in that van or the barn, or what these girls had been through but they were safe now, they knew it and they would recover. She was sure of that and it lifted a weight in her heart.

Daryl just knew that this whole thing would have gone down a hell of a lot different without Kit. Whatever else happened today he needed to ask her the questions and offer her a place at Alexandria – whatever answers she gave. He may have got it wrong a time or two in the past but he didn’t need to second guess himself on this one. Kit was a keeper. She was smart, resourceful, tough as old boots, a strategic thinker and good with defusing tricky people-situations (which was anything relating to interpersonal communication and beyond the realms of his comfort zone, as far as he was concerned). They needed her. He just wished there were more like her out here and that the good ones were always this easy to spot.

Chapter Text

The people from Hilltop had been shocked out of their minds to meet up with Daryl and the two missing girls on the road. They’d expected the absolute worst. He could see in their faces that they’d prepared themselves for arriving far too late. For bodies, or bloodshed or worst of all; one lone man with nothing to show for hours of tracking and still missing two beloved girls they’d never see again.

Jesus hadn’t been there when the father and son had got home. They’d come back out with Wendy’s father, Clara’s boyfriend and two of the more useful members of the Hilltop crew. They’d brought all the firepower they could muster and two large vehicles.

They’d wanted Daryl and Kit to go with them back to Hilltop. Daryl hadn’t considered that they might want that but he saw that Kit had. Despite the girls’ pleading for her to come home with them, she shook her head firmly. “No, no – you get yourselves home to your people, I’ve got things to do.” She smiled hugging them both as she helped them into one of the trucks. “I’ll see you next time I’m at Hilltop and you’ll be looking a damn sight better than you do now.” She laughed softly with them and they agreed they couldn’t be much worse. Holding on to each other tight in the back of the truck, the girls waved their thanks to Kit and Daryl.

“You going with them? Or you want a lift back to Garvey?” she asked returning to stand by Daryl. It was a straight question but in her heart of hearts she hoped he wanted the offered lift. In his heart of hearts he knew that he should capitalise on strengthening bonds at Hilltop but he didn’t want to leave her yet. He wanted that lift. Wanted to ask her those questions and take her home.

“We got a trade visit with you guys next week, right?” he asked one of the men he recognized. “I’ll tag along with Maggie and check on the girls then OK?” The guy – Eddie, possibly?? – shook Daryl’s hand vigorously, as they all had done, nodded and got in the truck. Daryl nodded, with a half-smile to the girls in the back as the truck swung around and he and Kit were left staring after them as they made their way back to Hilltop.

………………………….

The journey back to Garvey was uneventful and quiet. The dog in the back was probably sorely regretting not staying with the girls herself. These two were no fun at all.

Kit often felt sorry for the dog. She wasn’t a natural ‘dog person’, hated being slobbered and pawed. She’d found the dog as a pup at the Air force base, way back in the early days on her own. She had no idea how the pup had survived on its own when its mother had died but somehow she had. Maybe it had been very recent and the pup had just been incredibly lucky that help had happened along when it did. Either way, she wasn’t a dog ‘lover’ but she certainly wasn’t going to kill her and wasn’t going to leave her to suffer and die.

The pup had been friendly enough but still very young and malleable. Her first research job on the base had been dog training. There was a dog unit right there and all the equipment and manuals she could ever wish for. That base had been home for six months. It had been ‘basic training’ for both her and the dog. It was a big place and she was careful and clever. Groups would occasionally come by, looking for help, for order, for food, weapons, medicines, resources but they never looked hard, or long and they never looked everywhere. Kit was quick and quiet, if she was nothing else and those were the first and most important behaviours she passed on to the dog.

That place had been her access course, she’d figured out how to survive in this world and learned all the skills she’d need to do so, right there in the base library, the training rooms, the quartermaster’s store, where she’d read every set of instructions for every piece of equipment and taken only that which was simple, practical and portable. She’d found the landy in the garage of one of the base houses, another in a neighbouring house. She’d cherry picked parts and used the owners’ own obsessive collections of manuals to equip herself with one vehicle (and several spare parts) that could be easily maintained and repaired on the go.

She’d never been to university, never achieved much academically but when it counted she was a fast learner and that base had been her ‘life-skills’ college. She already knew how to hunt, shoot, fish, think strategically, plan logically. She was already an accomplished archer, used to camping out in the woods and roughing it with the best of them on whichever continent she happened to find herself at the time but now she was armed with practical skills that would help her help herself. She wouldn’t have to rely on anyone else, she had everything she’d need and she knew how to use it all. If it all got taken and she had to start again from scratch, she could make what she needed with the knowledge she’d gained. Knowledge was power. Being quick and quiet, remaining under everyone’s radar and out of their sight was power. Knowing more about the guy in front of you than he knew about you was power. That base had taught her how to harness her own nerdy, obsessive, loner weaknesses and turn them into strengths.

It had been ten minutes since they’d dropped the girls, ten minutes since Kit and Daryl had uttered a syllable between them. Daryl knew they’d be back in the town in a matter of minutes, he should take his opportunity and put the questions to her, make the offer, try and make it sound good. The longer he sat there in this weird uncomfortable, comfortable silence though, the longer he had to take her in.

Alexandria wouldn’t be an attractive prospect to her. He didn’t quite know how he knew that but he did. Daryl had always been observant. Had to be to survive, even before the dead started walking around like they owned the damn place. He’d thought he was pretty good at reading situations, reading people. His confidence in that ability had taken a knock or two but he was right about her, felt it in his bones. There was something about her composure, the way she carried herself. Those guys from Hilltop had seen her before, made sly reference in their “thank you’s” to the fact she was helping them out like she was a member of the community “in any case”. She hadn’t just traded with Hilltop, she’d been offered a place and refused. She’d said “on occasion”, Jesus was no fool, he’d have spotted her for a good bet on first inspection, just as Daryl had himself. She’d been back to Hilltop “on occasion” and Daryl was willing to bet she’d had the offer more than once.

To refuse security, the strength that numbers brought, again and again, that took a level of comfort with her abilities to survive in this world, on her own, that Daryl couldn’t quite fathom. He’d always prided himself that, if he needed to, he could survive out there alone. It’d break his heart now, if it came to that, because it’d have meant that everyone he’d come to care about was gone. It had damn near driven him to the edge last time it’d happened with the Governor attacking the prison. But he knew he could do it. That he didn’t NEED others to survive. It wasn’t a theoretical certainty for her though, she was doing it. Had been for some time, he’d guess. No company but the dog, no safety, security or strength but what she made for herself but she was doing it. And from what he could see, she was smashing it in style. How the hell was he ever going to tempt her with a white picket fenced prison like Alexandria. He could barely stand it himself, only did so for the family he’d come to love. Speech of any kind, suddenly seemed impossible.

“You can take this car if you want.” She said out of nowhere, “Or there’s another on the east side of town, if you’d prefer an automatic.” She flashed him a knowing smile and he found himself half-laughing back. He would prefer an automatic, if there was a choice but if there was a choice he’d rather she was with him in it when he left. “You probably should take that one anyway, it’s got more gas, it’ll get you home, just about, I think.” She was thinking out loud now, he wondered if she did this when she was on her own too. “We can syphon the dregs from this one anyway, so you’ll have plenty actually.”

“Real little problem solver ent ya.” He found himself smiling at her and when she caught his eye he was surprised to find that he didn’t turn away or stop smiling.

Returning her gaze to the road, with difficulty, she answered “Always was.”

“You ain’t even gonna consider comin’ back to Alexandria with me are ya?” He surprised himself with the directness of the question but figured honesty was the best policy with this one. He suspected she had as low a tolerance for bullshit as he did.

“I’ve been.” That took him back a little. “Scoped it out for a few days a month or so ago. Seems ….. nice.” That’s the word he’d have used too and in exactly the same tone. This was going to be impossible.

“It ain’t the set up that’s important these days though, is it?” he tried “It’s the people. The intentions.” He was on shaky ground here and he knew it. How much did she know about them from Hilltop? No-one could claim clean hands in this world though, she’d have done her share of nasty shit to survive and besides, Hilltop wouldn’t have anything derogatory to say about Alexandria. Nothing, he hoped, that might’ve put Kit off, if she were in the market for a home.

“True. But if I were looking for a cozy, cuddly atmosphere I couldn’t do much better than Hilltop now could I?” she countered “and I turn them down flat, every time they ask me to stay.” Hmmmm – this was why Daryl never got picked first at school for debating teams.

Kit smiled and threw him a bone “Don’t beat yourself up about it anyway. It’s flattering that you’d want me but there’s nothing you could tempt me with at Alexandria. It looks strong and organised and the picture of a model village in there but I’d go insane surrounded by a bunch of ‘normals’ in a week. ” He had to laugh at that. “Present company excepted, of course.” She added, with a disarming smile. “Honestly, I’m not kidding. I can cope with a conversation when I have to trade. I managed to put my nature aside to deal with those girls and before the turn I could have convinced whole rooms full of people that I was remotely like them but I’m really not. I’ve been on my own a long time now Daryl and I’m fine with it. I like it. It suits me just fine. Even the dog’s kind of a crowd sometimes, you know?... I’m a loner at heart, always was really and now it’s just safer that way too.”

He nodded, “I get it.”

“I knew you would. You’re like that too aren’t you.” Another glance, another affirmation. Kit made a left, heading towards the east of the town but the corner was tight, as it was crowded with two crashed up cars. She’d shifted down but took the corner a little too fast and all of them rocked a little roughly to the right. Daryl winced as his leg hit the door. He’d been vaguely aware of a scratch there since the barn but it hadn’t affected him any more than his already existent injuries and he hadn’t thought to check it.

“What’s up?” asked Kit.

“Got stuck back there. Maybe the guy in the hallway got me ‘fore you got him. I dunno.” He looked up sharply and added “It ain’t a bite, don’t worry.”

“Not worried,” she said, trying to get a good look at the leg as Daryl examined it himself. “Not about that anyway. We need to check it out though, get you cleaned up.” She thought about the options for a fraction of a second. “I’ll take you back to mine. It’s not far and I’ve got everything we need to sort you out there.”

“It ain’t deep. Ain’t bled much.” He thought for a moment. As good as it would be to get back to Alexandria before dark. If he let her take him home and got cleaned up it would give him longer to work on her. He’d struggled to exist in Alexandria himself, who better to convince her of the pro’s than someone who shared her con’s? “Could do with lookin’ at though, I guess.”

Chapter Text

They parked up four houses away from Kit’s base and she deliberately left the driver’s door half open. Nothing said “nothing to see here” like an open door in this world. She let the dog out first, to do a circuit of the neighbourhood. She’d be quiet but she’d draw out any wandering dead, lead them away and then lose them. She was fantastic at it and it had saved Kit’s bacon a time or two.

Daryl opened his own door and tried to stand but the combination of the already busted up leg on top of the fresh cut to the same limb forced him to think twice before moving too fast. He’d pushed his luck with his leg already today and now he’d sat for a while with the new injury compounding it, he was in rough shape. He refused to let Kit take the heavy bag of guns, or his equally heavy crossbow but he had to allow her to provide her own body as a crutch on his bad side. She guided and supported him to the house and through the back door, knife at the ready at all times. She helped him up the stairs and on to the bed in the room adjoining her own walk-in-wardrobe base.

He’d tried not to lean on her too heavily but found that her apparent strength was in fact quite genuine. She had no trouble lending him some stability. He’d noticed, as they entered the back door, some cleverly rigged home security. Although he could happily have done without the stairs, it made good sense to set up base above ground and all of this made him feel more secure about spending a little time here, trying to convince her to go back with him.

As they reached the top of the stairs he’d been met with the vision of several lines, strung across the hallway, festooned with lace topped panties of various colours and a couple of generous looking bras. He didn’t know where to look. His instinctive reaction was a knee jerk urge to check the chest by his side to try and gauge if these belonged to Kit but his memory of that first sight of her curves confirmed that they must and he fought the urge. He wasn’t a pervert, by nature and he didn’t want her thinking he was. He saw, through an open doorway, another entire room full of hanging clothes and a sleeping bag. “Sorry about that, I wash everything I own the first day I arrive in a town.” She said by way of explanation “Having a stable base for a few days gives me time to do it and get it all dry before I move on.” That made sense he supposed “It’s all dry now though, should’ve packed it away yesterday, just laziness but I didn’t realise I’d have company.”

The bed was a generous king. Daryl dropped the bag and the crossbow by the end and with Kit’s help swung himself around to rest against the piled up pillows on the headboard end, with his legs stretched out on the firm mattress. Kit slid open the closet door and retrieved a bag that looked like a pretty hard-core medical kit. Resting the bag on the night stand she pinched the material of his pants’ leg between her thumb and fingers and said “You’re not going commando under there are you?”

She wasn’t flirting or being funny, she sounded genuinely concerned that this might be an issue. Daryl thanked god that he was able to answer “Not today.”

After he’d taken the pain meds and anti-biotics she’d offered, he refused her help and with a little struggle and a lot of pain, was able to get his pants off by himself while she got what she needed out of her bag.

The cut was not bad at all, it had bled a little and it was deeper than Daryl had thought but it hadn’t hit anything important, it cleaned up well and she stitched and dressed it quickly, with as little pain as she could manage. The rest of his leg showed signs of a fairly recent impact injury however and he needed to have it elevated and cooled down to reduce the inflammation. She looked at him wordlessly before getting on with what needed to be done. Stacking pillows under the leg, fetching cool water to pack around the joints. She found some frosty-freeze gel in the medical pack and massaged it all over his leg until she reached his mid-thigh. Then she handed the tube to him and he gratefully completed the job himself.

At some point during Kit’s ministrations the dog had popped her head through the door to see what was going on. She’d usually come back from her jaunts, via the ramp between the garage and the mid-stairs landing window (always left open for the purpose, as it was too high for the dead to reach), to find food and fresh water in her bowls. Kit wordlessly ushered her out of the room. She wouldn’t whine, she never did. She knew she’d get fed as soon as Kit could get to it. She returned to her station on the landing and lapped at the left overs of this morning’s water while she waited.

As Kit packed away the medical pack and turned to the door she asked if he was hungry and he said he was “fine”. She took that to mean he’d rather go without himself, than take food from a woman on her own surviving hand-to-mouth out here in the wild world. She was dead right.

But he wasn’t too proud to take the shelter she’d offered without a word. He needed to rest up. They both knew it. He could have got in the car, driven home to Alexandria and let them tend to his leg if he really, really wanted to but he didn’t. It wasn’t necessary. He had somewhere safe to rest and she was willing to let him stay the night. Not a word had been exchanged but they both knew he was going nowhere, at least until morning.

 “I need to see to the dog and clean up before the sun sets.” She said, like some kind of enigmatic reverse vampire or something. She collected a bag from the closet and told him she’d be back in half an hour or so.

Daryl took the opportunity to try and think of arguments for her to go back to Alexandria with him. Unfortunately he did that while resting his eyes and hadn’t got very far when he drifted off to sleep. His last thoughts before losing consciousness were “Is that a shower I can hear?”

Kit had rigged up the shower in the main bathroom. It was squeezed between the two kids’ rooms and the adjoining house. It had no exterior pipework or windows, so any plumbing sounds were always well insulated from dead ears meandering past. The solar showers were her favourite luxury. She didn’t have a shower every day and always tried to conserve enough water for real ‘covered in dead juice’ showering emergencies but it had rained hard all night the past two days and she had more than enough, for a week’s worth of showers, collected in the water-butts of the three neighbouring houses and the two filtering barrels down stairs. She deserved some luxury today, she decided.

This was her favourite part of the day, her luxury to look forward to and not even having company next door was going to make her cut it short. This luxury had taken planning and it was a chore but it was worth it. She’d sat the three water filled packs on the porch roof all day, catching all the warm sun that the southern aspect of the house could provide. She’d brought them to the bathroom one at a time, climbed the step ladder and sat them on the board, she’d prepared as a platform for them, above the shower cubicle. She’d carefully positioned them so the nozzles hung through the drilled holes, climbed down, unclothed and showered in pretty nice warm water. Heaven.

Each bag contained ten litres of water. It wasn’t a lot but it was enough, if she was careful and set them off one at a time, to wash her body and her hair. Not as thoroughly as she’d like but enough to keep her human.

After her shower she’d scooped most of the water out of the container she stood in, collecting the brown water, emptying it into the large water-butt filter system she’d made. She had a lot of reserve water but it didn’t pay to waste resources. It would create at least enough clean water for two or more of the solar shower packs tomorrow. The remainder, she poured into the toilet cistern, as there may be a need for more than one flush tonight and there was only one flush worth of waste water in the bucket by the toilet. Housekeeping tasks completed, she toweled down and used her, now less than half-charged, epilator to de-fuzz. This might be the apocalypse but that was no reason to drop your standards, Kit smiled to herself as she finished off her regimen, covering herself in moisturiser.

Pulling on her semi-clean night clothes, she emptied the boil-in-the-bag rice and the contents of a giant can of Stagg chilli into the waiting saucepans on the camping stove at the end of the bath. The water had been at a rolling boil before she’d thrown in the rice and she’d scooped out two mugs full of water for tea before throwing in the bags. This was also the best place to cook, as all of the cooking smells escaped through the vent in the ceiling through the ducting in the roof space and out into the ether, too high up for anyone, living or dead, to tell where it had come from. She added a tea bag to each mug and sugar to one. Once the smell had reached perfection she scooped out the bags, covering the mugs to keep the contents hot and put the bags back on the drying rack by the stove. She’d get another cup out of each she reckoned.

_____________________

Daryl woke with a start as he became aware of something having been laid down on the night stand by his head. He was a little bewildered to find himself in the room and embarrassed to have fallen asleep so quickly in unfamiliar and potentially dangerous surroundings. The room was getting darker and he guessed that the sun had definitely passed over the other side of the house and it must be late afternoon by now. The thing that had been set down on the night stand was a bowl of steaming chilli and rice. The smell shot straight through him and his mouth watered instantly. There was a fork in the bowl, sticking up at an inviting angle and a tin mug of some kind of brown liquid that wasn’t coffee next to it. He’d said no to her offer of food. Perhaps this was for her. He daren’t touch it but longed to.

He didn’t need to hold back for long, Kit reappeared then with a bowl and mug of her own, which answered his un-asked question. “Oh good, I didn’t want to wake you but you must need something to eat by now.” She said as she walked around and settled cross-legged on the other end of the wide bed, resting her mug on the flat topped footboard. “This is tea.” She said indicating the mug. “I don’t have any coffee but it’s REAL tea, none of that Liptons bollocks. Wasn’t sure if you’d want sugar or not but there’s a couple of sachets there and a spoon if you do.”

That was all the invitation Daryl needed. He could have managed on an empty stomach but she obviously had enough to spare, if she could be so nonchalant about the giant portion sizes she’d given them both. He nodded his thanks and trying the tea, he figured it definitely needed sugar. There were three packets next to the mug and he put in two, stirring it well. He was pleasantly surprised when he tried it again and thought he could get used to this REAL-tea shit. “My little treat to myself.” She said, noting his approval. “I do miss milk in it and I have to ration myself, ‘cos it won’t last forever but I think we both deserve a cuppa today.” She smiled at him and took a sip of her own. He hadn’t realised what a luxury the drink had been but he guessed it was obvious that her ‘real’ tea was going to be a rarity these days and he was suitably honoured that she’d included him in her treat.

“Thanks – it’s good.” He intoned truthfully. She deserved real thanks, he’d never met such a generous total stranger. No one had ever been this nice to him, right off the bat, in his entire life and though it should have been strange and he should have felt suspicious of it; it wasn’t and he absolutely didn’t. Everything she did was genuine, he was sure of it and he was almost certain that she was being this way with him because she could somehow tell that, under his gruff exterior, he was a decent guy and meant her no harm. Her confidence in him made him want to be better than he was, made him want to prove her right.

Daryl had a tendency to wolf down food, like he’d been starving in a dungeon for weeks, or someone was about to take it away from him if he didn’t get it all down in two minutes flat. Of course, that all stemmed from knowing what real hunger was, from an early age and from really having to get his meals down in two minutes, if he wanted to avoid one of his pop’s legendary mealtime meltdowns, or Merle helping himself to what he wanted from Daryl’s plate. He tried to reign it in these days, as he’d caught the looks people gave each other when they ate with him. No one had cared on the road but they sure as hell noticed in their fancy suburban dining rooms. He definitely didn’t want Kit being put off Alexandria by his terrifying table manners, so he took his time over the chilli and tried to savour it. He still ate way faster than anyone in Alexandria would have but then, he noted, so did she.

“You from a big family?” he asked indicating her, already almost empty, bowl. She looked up, surprised at his sudden question. He hadn’t started a single conversation all day. She laughed, understanding his meaning.

“Hmm, no. I was an orphan. Grew up in care homes and foster families. Mealtimes were sometimes a bit of a free-for-all and I just liked to get it over with quick.” She looked pointedly at his bowl. “What’s your excuse?”

They talked for two hours. Back and forth, questions and answers. Neither of them held back, they were candid and honest with each other. Each instinctively aware that the other had an in built bullshit-ometer and didn’t appreciate dishonesty.

By the time darkness was upon them in earnest, Daryl knew a fair bit about her background, her startlingly varied previous jobs and travels. She’d told him about her skill sets and how she’d taught herself what she needed at the Air Force base, where she’d also found and trained the dog. The dog had come to join them at some point and Kit had spooned the last of the chilli (Daryl couldn’t quite believe there had been more – how big was the can!!!) into a bowl for her to finish as her second supper. As the dog settled by Daryl she nuzzled his hand, testing if he might be more up for petting than Kit usually was. Daryl petted the dog (making her day) absentmindedly, as he resumed their conversation.

She’d told him about her previous groups and her reasons for bailing on them. She’d obviously made the right choices, he thought and he wondered but didn’t ask questions which might have identified it, if the train terminal group had been the same ‘Terminus’ where he’d almost lost his own life. He made the quick decision that he didn’t want to know and that if it had been their Terminus, neither would she. She didn’t need to know what had happened to those people, what they’d become after she left. If they were the same Terminus, then she’d made a good call and had a close escape. He’d hidden his reaction to that part of her story well, fussing over the dog to cover any tell-tale signs. He decided that whatever happened, he’d never tell her about the name of that group.

He did however, share much of his ‘family’ group’s journey so far, even the Terminus chapter, he just left out the name and the type of complex it had been. He avoided the less savoury aspects of their dealings with the Saviours and Negan but didn’t shy away from telling her about the herd that had over-run Alexandria and how they’d struggled to survive it. He told her how he’d picked up his leg injury and about his & David’s disastrous run in the neighbouring town, that had ended in the other man’s death, Daryl’s injury and him bumping into the group from Hilltop (and their ensuing drama) while looking for a vehicle to get him home.

He’d given brief descriptions of his ‘family’ and a rough sketch of some of the ‘types’ in the town. She’d asked a few questions about his background and he’d answered honestly but had avoided details. She’d noticed but didn’t press, as he’d noticed but hadn’t pressed her avoiding detail with regard to her own upbringing.

As darkness fell, they would need to take this tête-à-tête elsewhere, if they were going to continue. Kit didn’t want to give away their position to any roving eyes, dead or alive. “If you’re tired then you should get some sleep out here. We can talk again in the morning, if you like but if you want to carry on tonight then we need to move in there.” She indicated the closet where she’d retrieved her stuff earlier.

Daryl was in a quandary. This was the first comfortable conversation he’d had in god knows how long. It wasn’t about survival or a discussion about what to do about some nasty situation they had to deal with. It wasn’t a political negotiation or an attempt to defuse some kind of grievance. It wasn’t even like any talk he’d had prior to the world going to shit. It was just two people, shooting the shit, getting to know each other. He could have talked with her all night but he dreaded moving from this bed. His leg was bearable now but it would cause agony if he moved a muscle. Which was a bitch, ‘cause he really needed a piss.

It was like she read his mind as she suddenly got up and took charge. “Actually, you know what, I don’t think there’s a choice to be made really.” She collected up the plates and cups and made her way towards the door. “You shouldn’t move while your leg is still trying to ‘knit’, you stay there.” She disappeared and Daryl cursed the receding sun, knowing damn well he had a long way to go before he convinced her to give Alexandria another thought.

She returned with a bowl and a large red plastic storage jar of some kind. “You likely to need more than a number one during the night?” She asked bluntly, passing him a second dose of pain killers and a water bottle. He shook his head warily. “OK, well if you do, there’s a flushable toilet in the main bathroom.” She described where it was and that the tank was already full and ready for use, if he needed it in the night but that he should wake her if he needed help. “It’s really fucking dark in here when the sun goes down and I’d rather help you to the bathroom than have to scrape you off my stairs tomorrow morning, or worse still; deal with a fucking dead man trying to eat me in my sleep because you broke your neck.” They both smiled at the thought and Daryl promised he wouldn’t try to ‘butch’ it out. Kit knew she’d hear him fumbling about long before he could get far enough to hurt himself anyway, so she let him have the illusion that he’d have a choice in that matter.

She handed him the bowl, half full of water, with a flannel and a still packaged toothbrush & paste. “You can bed-bath yourself if you want. Up to you but I know I’d want to. That water bottle’s yours. There’s a blanket right next to you there, if you get cold in the night and this..” she held up the plastic jar in her hand “is your bed pan.” She smiled “aren’t you lucky to have been born a boy!” He nodded his agreement as he gratefully took the jar from her. She gave him some privacy with the last ten minutes or so of daylight, while she checked the house, settled the dog for the night and took care of her own ablutions in the bathroom.

When she returned, Daryl had made use of the jar, washed the worst of the previous two days’ grime from his face, torso and under-arms and brushed his teeth. Teeth were damn useful and he planned to keep his in decent shape, so you could say what you liked about the frequency of his showering but when Daryl Dixon had access to a tooth brush he damn well used it.

He hadn’t buttoned his shirt back up by the time she returned but he realised that, as he could only just make her shape out in the darkened room, she was unlikely to be able to make him out either. She made her way quietly to the closet door, perhaps thinking he was already asleep. “G’night Kit.” He whispered huskily “and thanks again.”

She crawled into her bed, leaving the closet door ajar for the first time since she’d ‘moved in’. He could hear the smile in her voice “No worries Daryl, you sleep well. Na-night.” There was something so comforting and warm about the way she said it, the way she said everything, her mere presence in the blackness of the room, that put him at ease and helped him drift off to sleep almost instantly. He had no idea that she felt the same way and neither of them had a clue what this strange instant connection to a total stranger might mean.

Chapter Text

Kit was a light sleeper, as was Daryl but they had an uneventful night and both slept surprisingly well; considering it was the first time Kit had slept in the same room as another human since well before the shit had hit the proverbial three years previously. She’d managed to sneak out of the room and go off to deal with her various morning housekeeping chores, without waking him too. She was glad of that. He obviously needed the rest after the past forty-eight hours and the numerous batterings his body had endured in that time.

Daryl woke with a start, surprised to find the sun well up and to hear movement in the house. He panicked for a second, imagining that there could be walkers inside but quickly noticed that the closet door was wide open, revealing an empty single mattress.

Despite his literal ‘knee-jerk’ reaction to the noises, he also noticed that his leg was feeling much better, even though it must have been several hours since his last round of pain meds. He took stock of the pain and its severity before throwing back his next round and washing them down with water. With nothing else to do, he took a piss in the (now pretty ripe smelling) jar, replacing the lid carefully as it threatened to overflow and brushed his teeth again.

Daryl was just considering whether he could make it to the shitter unaided, without ripping his stitches, when the woman, Kit, appeared at the door.

“Oh, you’re up.” She smiled and approached the bed. “How’s the leg?”

“Better.” He responded finding a half-smile for her. She’d been nothing but nice, nothing but straight with him, she didn’t deserve anything less than his best behaviour, even this early in the morning. “Thanks.” He added.

“I’ve got some porridge on the go down stairs. It’ll be ready soon. I’ve got water, tea or juice boxes of orange, apple or pear to go with it…. Preference?” she asked.

“Whatever you’re having is fine.” He replied, still a little overawed that someone out here on their own was so well provisioned that she was here taking his breakfast order. “I could do with a hand though.” He mumbled sheepishly, bizarrely embarrassed to have to ask her to help him to the bathroom.

She got his meaning instantly, understood his embarrassment and saved his blushes “I thought you might want to wash up properly this morning, so I’ve filled the bathroom sink with hot water and the cistern’s topped up too – just in case. Shall I help you to it on my way back for brekkie?”

He nodded and allowed her to support him as he swung his legs painfully off the bed. She made him wait on the edge, until the pain passed, before helping him to rise. He definitely needed her support right now but he could feel that, once the stiffness had passed, he’d be able to walk well enough by himself. The cut was in the background already, he could feel that it was heeling well and doubted he’d even have a scar to show for it in a few months’ time. If he lived that long.

Dropping Daryl off at the bathroom, Kit made her way down stairs, leaving him to his own devices. She dished out their breakfasts, dropping the pan in the kitchen sink. She had a collection of pots in there from the previous two days. She smiled to herself “Such a slob Kit!” She returned the larger pan, she used for boiling her filtered water before use as drinking water, to the burner, collected their bowls and returned upstairs. The dog had already eaten and gone out for her morning recce, so she looked forward to another uninterrupted talk over their meal, wondering what tack he’d take to try and win her over.

After taking care of pressing business, Daryl had turned his attention to the filled sink and his heart leapt as he caught sight of himself in the large mirror behind it. He wasn’t a vain man and it wasn’t his scraggy beard or generally unkempt appearance that shocked him. He looked down in abject horror though, as he realised that his shirt was still gaping open from his bed-bath last night. He felt suddenly vulnerable, exposed, naked. He hadn’t even noticed. Had she?

He shook his head and removed the shirt completely to wash himself properly. He applied fresh freeze-gel to his leg and swapped out the dressing with one she’d left by the sink. He used the soap, towel and deodorant she’d provided and noticed that she’d laid out a shirt for him on the side of the bath too. He looked it over appraisingly.

She heard him open the bathroom door and made her way over there to help him back to the room. “Suits you.” She smiled approvingly at the forest green shirt. “Not a bad fit either.”

“Got a couple just like it.” He refused her arm as she offered her support. “I need to test it out.” He explained.

She fell into step by his side “I’m here if you need me.”

He made it back to the bed with surprising ease and Kit suspected this hadn’t been the first time Daryl had been in the wars. He was a tough bastard from way back, she guessed and she expected he healed quickly and was used to pain. She did help him stretch his legs back up onto the bed though, gave him his next dose of anti-biotics, passing the bowl of porridge and indicating three cartons of juice on the night stand. She then walked around the bed, collecting her own breakfast and settled into the same position she’d adopted the night before.

Daryl took his first spoonful of “porridge” without even looking at it. As it hit his taste buds he looked down in surprise. This was the best damn oatmeal he’d ever had in his life. He hadn’t even registered what she’d said she would be serving up for breakfast. He’d just been suitably awed (yet again) to be so automatically included in her meal plans. This was definitely oatmeal but there were raisins in it, some other kinds of dried fruits too he reckoned, cinnamon and coconut flakes??? “Wow!” it came out before he knew what to think. He looked up into her smiling eyes, more startled by his own positive outburst than she could ever guess. “S’real good.” He mumbled, confirming his initial review before getting back to some serious eating.

“Thanks.” Kit loved her porridge and worked hard to find and store the components that she hoped would keep her loving it for a while yet. She knew everything would run out one day. The raisins would go first, turning to brown sugary husks as they crept into old age, incapable of being rehydrated in the porridge pan. Coconut flakes were hard enough to find at the best of times and even the punchy cinnamon would fade and lose its flavour over time. But for now it was all fine and life was good.

She watched Daryl thoughtfully as she ate. Maybe he had a point yesterday, about numbers and stability. She wasn’t stupid, her current way of life worked and she could manage as a scavenger for a good long while yet but not forever. There was nothing sustainable about it. As the new world became less about the immediate day-to-day struggles to survive against the dead and more about dealing with the living to get along and build something sustainable, she’d have to form some strong group alliances somewhere… with someone. Maybe it WAS time to start looking, before her situation got more desperate. As the groups in her midst got more stable, perhaps they’d get more fussy, about who they traded with and considered taking in, too.

Daryl had no idea how generously the odds had tipped in his favour without him even uttering a coaxing word yet this morning. He eased in to it with a couple more hangover questions from last night and asking her about her plans for Garvey once she’d “got rid” of him.

As she told him about her usual timetable for this size of town and absentmindedly let slip that Garvey had been so good to her so far, that she’d been considering taking a day or two just to chill out and relax here, Daryl took his opportunity. “Hey, if you want some downtime why don’t you consider just coming back with me to Alexandria for a few days?”

“You think they’d be up for a tourist?” she teased, arching her eyebrow at him quizzically.

“Said you were thinking about a break from the same-old.” He began “You could take a break with us, meet some people, make some contacts, trade some o’ what you got spare for what you need from us.” He couldn’t be sure but maybe she was thinking about it now?? “Rick’s not stupid, a good contact is a good contact, whether you plan to stay long-term or not and I’ll vouch for you. He’ll let you in.” That might’ve sounded easier than it would be in practice but Daryl knew he had pull – Rick would come around if Daryl forced the issue hard enough. “Give it a few days… you like it, great. You don’t like it, you go. No hard feelings. We’ll see you next time you got shit to trade.”

Kit found it hard to argue. She really was tired of the day-to-day of it all. A break would be nice. Maybe she just hadn’t met the right people to make her want to stick a group situation out yet. Hell, if all the Alexandrians were like Daryl she’d have been happy to give in right now but she had the feeling he was as much of a loner within their community as she was without.

“I couldn’t just sit around on my arse doing nothing.” She argued.

“Wouldn’t have to.” He countered “There’s plenty o’ light work you can help out with without it being life-or-death for a few days.” She was teetering now he thought. “An’ if you get antsy, about being behind the walls the whole time, you could come on a run or a hunt with me.” He shrugged and turned his attention to his juice box “If you want.”

Kit pondered her empty bowl, in the silence that followed, as she finished her own juice box. “OK, you’ve convinced me.” She said finally. Daryl’s head snapping up at her words. “But I need to finish off Garvey first. Collect everything together. Leave it tidy and ready to pick up again when my holiday’s over.” She set the bowl and the box on the footboard. “That’ll give you a couple of days to warn them I’m coming.”

“Or a couple of days for you to think better of it and head for the hills.” He thought. Daryl had a better idea.

“They don’t need no warning, not if you come back with me.” He said, “They ain’t expecting me and David back ‘til the end of the week. Let me help you finish up here.” She opened her mouth to say something but he talked over whatever objection she’d had “I know I ain’t up to much right now but I can move around and take care of myself OK and another driver would be good if nothing else, if you’re moving your shit somewhere central… right?”

He had her there, another driver was exactly the thing she dreamed of having at these times, almost as much as during the planning and prep stage. She knew he could take care of himself against the dead. He’d be no hindrance, might be a serious help. “OK.” She said “You’re on… but today is an easy day. You can work your ‘ass’ off tomorrow but today you’re resting that leg. We’ve got plenty of work we can do right here or just driving around in the car.” He nodded his agreement and the deal was struck.

Chapter Text

He should have been concentrating on his task. Cataloging the meds, that they’d cherry-picked and agreed on, as her trade goods for Alexandria. She’d been more generous than he thought she should be but she’d been happy to throw in the extra because he’d been helping her out for free for two days. Daryl couldn’t really argue with her about it, as much as he’d like to see her getting a fair deal, he also had to think of Alexandria. They were his people now. Some of them were as close to family as he’d ever get and he had to get them a good deal too.

She’d insisted that he check everything she planned to trade and take proper account, so Rick could trust that he was getting what she said he was. She’d also packed up a bag of ‘gifts’ for his family, in the hopes that it would earn her a little good-will when she asked to stay for a day or two. He’d told her she didn’t need to and that she’d be welcome as his guest. He felt a little like he was puffing up his own importance, as he said it but he was pretty certain that it was also true.

She just shook her head at him. “Grew up with a lot of different people and a lot of different families as a kid but there were a couple of things they all agreed on. You don’t turn up to stay as a guest at someone’s house empty handed.” Daryl couldn’t say that that was a policy he’d ever had drummed into him but he kind of liked it and she seemed determined, so he let it go.

He could tell she was nervous. She hadn’t sat down since they got back this afternoon. Having spent that first day planning and scoping out possible ‘storage facilities’ (mostly any place that no scavenger in their right mind would bother even checking; computer and electrical stores, office blocks and the like), they’d done everything she’d planned to do in the past two days. Garvey had been ‘dredged’ and the cream was sitting safe and sound in an inconspicuous store-room. She’d be leaving this place in good shape, in case she ever needed a bolt-hole and they had two vehicles gassed up, to be left near her next target town, so her life would be a little easier for his having been here, if she did decide not to stay in Alexandria.

She had no reason to be nervous but Daryl could read her like a book by now. She was terrified of having to deal with people, with an established, functioning civilisation. He’d done his best to reassure her about what she could expect but he guessed three years was a long time to be out here alone. If it’d been him, he’d have been more animal than man by now and might have forgotten how to speak at all. By that standard, he figured she was doing pretty well.

He watched her pace past the bedroom door for the tenth time in as many minutes. She was just making up work for herself now, packing and then re-packing, like a bat-shit crazy woman. He’d watched her re-pack, that big old backpack of hers, three times already. She was beginning to drive him nuts.

“Kit – for fucksakes!” he said, standing in the second bedroom doorway, arms crossed, brooking no arguments. “Give it the fuck up woman. That bag ain’t gonna get no better packed than it is.” She looked up at him frantically for a moment, with a collection of balled up socks in one hand and ….was that some kind of fucking lady-shaver in the other??? She just might be the best provisioned and most organised fucking nut-case he’d ever met.

Caught out in her madness, she deflated in front of him, some of her tension dissipating, as she realised how ridiculous she was being. “I know, I know. You’re right.” She said, shaking her head “It’s just..”

“Just nothin’… c’mon.” he motioned with his hand to indicate she should wind it up now. “I’m gonna start dinner – be dark soon. You got ten minutes to wrap this shit up or I’m gonna come back and drag your ass away from it….. Ya bin warned.” He didn’t stick around to argue, just walked off to get the stove on. End of discussion.

Kit watched him go, a little irritated to be ordered about in her own squat but she had to admit he had a point. She was being a bit mental. She put the contents of her hands back in the compartments she’d just extracted them from. He was right, the bag wouldn’t get any better packed from her fussing over it again.

It had been strange, having him around the past few days but she had been genuinely surprised how comfortable that ‘strangeness’ had been. He wasn’t obtrusive at all, didn’t impose himself or try to bend her plans to his own will (usually!!). He’d just settled in, at her side and done whatever needed doing.

He hadn’t just followed her around like the dog and taken orders though. When he saw a flaw in her plans he pointed it out, he made suggestions and he did things that he could see would help, without needing to be asked. He’d been a partner in her work and a companionable room-mate in her home. They’d been a team and she had to say she’d enjoyed it and she’d enjoyed his company.

Even this ‘bossy-boots’ Daryl. She needed it and he was doing what was best for her, she wasn’t mad enough not to see that and she respected where he was coming from. She wasn’t crazy about being ‘told off’ like a child but he WAS right and he had earned the right, over the past few days to call her out.

He’d been incredibly useful in leaving her in a good position here in Garvey and he’d even helped her prep her next target. He’d have earned his stripes, as a true friend, just for that but today had been another level.

They’d been so quick and efficient as a team yesterday, that Garvey had been all sewn up in one day. They’d even had time to find him a much needed new pair of ‘pants’, to replace the torn and bloody pair he’d arrived here in.

This morning had been all about prepping the landy for the Alexandria visit and the two cars to leave in Patterson. They’d dropped one off this morning and would take the other on their way tomorrow. The afternoon had been a morbid luxury.

She’d raised the subject last night, as they’d sat in her ‘room’ planning their tasks for today by torchlight. He hadn’t flinched when she told him about the plans she’d always had for those kids in the yard on the edge of town. She told him how she’d watched from afar as he’d put them down one-by-one only two days before and thought she saw him consider doing more but he hadn’t had the time. He confirmed that it’d crossed his mind to check the shop for something flammable, as she’d suspected but he’d had more pressing priorities.

When she told him about the propane and her plans he’d been relieved. He’d thought about that yard a fair bit the past couple of days and although they’d avoided that part of town so far, he’d be lying if he didn’t admit he’d thought of sneaking off at some point before they left Garvey to make himself a little funeral pyre. The fact that they were both so squarely on the same page on this was a relief to them both. It just reiterated their initial impressions of each other and the sure footings of their growing friendship.

It would have been hard, soul destroying, work for either of them on their own but together it had taken only half an hour to arrange the bodies on a pyre of packing crates and pallets. The sad repetition of hauling 26 former children, reduced to the state of gargoyle-like husks of their little selves, would have eroded even the most insensitive, brutish heart. The fact that neither of them were insensitive brutes and that they’d undertaken the task together, treating each body with some respect and acknowledging the horror of what had happened to these little people, had kept them both sane through it.

They’d stood together, side by side, as the flames caught and licked hungrily through the lines of small bodies. Neither of them had made a speech or said a prayer or anything so pointless. They both understood the enormity of the tragedy of those children. Of all the children and all the adults, for that matter, who’d suffered and died since this all began. Neither Daryl nor Kit could honestly say that the new world hadn’t actually done them a few favours personally… but the price – when you saw it laid out in rows like this – had been far too much.

They hadn’t uttered a word or touched at all but each had drawn immense comfort from the other’s presence and they’d both been glad that, though they’d each been willing to, neither of them had had to perform this solemn duty alone.

When they returned, Kit had taken her last shower, washing away the stench of the dead and truly saying goodbye to this place. She’d only used two of the solar shower packs though, leaving one for Daryl. He hadn’t asked and he might not want it but she’d left it set up for him just in case. He’d seemed reticent to deprive her of her little luxuries. Especially as he knew that they’d both be able to shower to their hearts content when they got back to Alexandria but he had to admit that washing away the afternoon’s sombre little ceremony would be welcome. She’d helped him tape off his leg wound to prevent it getting wet and left him to it.

Daryl was grateful that she’d allowed him that first day of grace. Sitting around on his ass recuperating for two nights and a full day after his knife wound and other injuries, had done him the world of good. Despite being active all day yesterday and much of today, he’d held up well and expected to be fighting fit in a week or so. Right now, he was more than capable of getting around without help and moving quickly enough to evade a walker if necessary. He was also capable of taking a quick shower by himself.  

It was when he’d emerged from the shower, to find a bat-shit crazy lady that looked a lot like Kit, buzzing back and forth like she was on speed or something, that things had got weird. He’d left her to it for a bit but something had had to be said in the end and he felt like he could say it. She wasn’t gonna fly off the handle just ‘cos he called her on her ‘crazy half hour’. He was pretty sure they were friends now and that she wouldn’t go back on their agreement about Alexandria, or get pissy with him over a few home truths. He hoped not anyway.

As Kit’s ten minutes elapsed, she sat her backpack by the bedroom door and made her way back to their main living quarters in the master bedroom, before Daryl came looking for her and made good on his promise. She checked in on him in the house bathroom as she passed and found him stirring the pan on the stove thoughtfully. “Almost ready.” He said, looking up from his task and noticing her at the door. “You all done?”

“Yes. No more packing I promise Mr. Daryl sir.” She joked, saluting him from the doorway. He nodded at that, half smiling as he returned his attention to the pot. “I’ll pop and get us something to drink with dinner.” She offered, closing the door and making her way down stairs.

Kit had brought a bottle of “fizz” she called it. Daryl called it some pretty fancy-ass looking champagne. He wasn’t sure about it, having never actually tried the stuff before but she’d brought him up a six-pack of beers too, in case he didn’t like it. She’d insisted they have a glass each of “bubbly” though, just to toast Garvey for being so good to her. “And to new friends.” She added, raising her glass a second time.

Daryl liked that. “New friends.” He repeated back to her, leaning forward to touch glasses and do this shit right.

“Cheers.” She said, bringing her glass to her lips, catching Daryl’s eye as she did so. If you’re going to toast, best do it properly, she thought.

“Damn!” Daryl looked at his glass as if it had bitten him.

“What’s wrong?” Kit asked with concern.

“This shit’s pretty nice.” He sounded totally shocked by the idea of actually liking some fancy, rich person’s drink. “We got any more?”

“Hah! Yeah, we got plenty.” She laughed, downing the rest of her glass in one.

They ate on the big bed, as usual. The dog had been banned from going back out tonight, Kit didn’t want her wandering off and them having to comb the neighbourhood shouting for her in the morning, so she sat with them. She’d taken a shine to Daryl these past few days and Kit had to admit it was good to see her being fussed over, as she’d just never been able to bring herself to do.

She and the dog would always have a strong bond and they’d always be a good team but Kit could see she was missing out on something by just travelling with this closed-off, non-dog-person for so long. She was glad that she was finally getting a bit of what she needed from Daryl. He seemed to have a natural affinity with her from day one but he’d grown to respect her a lot more since the events of yesterday.

She’d saved his life and Kit’s by taking out two walkers that neither of them had even known were there. Daryl had taken back his earlier opinion of her as being a dubious guard-dog right then. But it hadn’t stopped at that. Even when they had no idea she was around, she’d suddenly bound out of nowhere to alert them to danger up ahead. Or she’d release a low whine and look to the door, when they were in a building, to let them know they had company. They couldn’t have got on so efficiently, taking the time to be respectful this afternoon, if she hadn’t been watching their backs, ensuring their safety, while they got on with their task.

The dog was damn useful to have around and she’d proved that to Daryl these past two days. Earning the affection he lavished on her over dinner. After they’d eaten, Kit took the bowls down to the kitchen and returned with another bottle of “fizz”. It was beginning to get dark though and they retreated to Kit’s ‘room’ to finish their last glasses of the old bottle, before starting on the new. The dog had had her fill of affection for one night and sensing some weird change of mood in her companions, slipped off to roam around the house one last time before bed. She knew what not being allowed out meant and she understood that this would be her last sleep in this place. She had corners to say goodbye to.

Daryl and Kit sat companionably in the wardrobe, chatting over the plans for tomorrow one last time. Daryl talked about his friends again, helping her get a handle on names, histories, relationships. She wasn’t sure how much help this conversation would actually be though, as they’d been toasting again and had almost polished off the second bottle.

As they got even more drunk, they got more honest about the things they’d held back on for the previous three evenings. Daryl confessed some of the darker chapters of the group’s more recent history with the Saviours and Negan. Kit didn’t judge and she shared some of her own darker baggage. She’d killed people too. Bad people. People who would have done things to her and killed her when they were finished, had she not but still… “Murder stains your soul a little doesn’t it?” she’d said “Even if the fucker deserved it.”

Daryl had to agree with that. He felt the weight of all of those he’d lost but he also felt the weight of all of those he’d removed from the world with his own hand. He’d told her about his brother then. What he’d had to do for Merle. And then he’d told her about the things he and Merle had endured as children. He told her about his dad. He told her about his mother’s death. He told her about his scars.

Kit tried to tell Daryl something about her early life too. About loneliness and emptiness and shame. He hadn’t understood about shame and she’d tried to explain something about other children and about some abuse and perversions not just being at the hands of adults. About shutting down part of yourself to protect the whole and struggling under the weight of not being yourself. She thought he’d understood that bit at least.

She knew she wasn’t making a whole lot of sense. She couldn’t put it clearly enough. She couldn’t face the words. They were both too drunk by now to know what they were saying anyway. They’d finished off the champagne and moved on to the beers. She wasn’t sure which of them conked out first but neither of them finished their last can.

------------------------------

They woke the next morning, to the sound of the dog scratching at the door, entangled in each other’s arms. They’d fallen asleep sat close together on the mattress, propped up against the back wall. At some point they’d either toppled over or drunkenly rearranged themselves into a more comfortable horizontal heap. They were both fully clothed and neither of them were hungover enough to have lost any memories of the night before, so they knew nothing ‘untoward’ had happened but it didn’t make it any less embarrassing to have to extract themselves from an unconscious embrace.

Both red faced and mumbling apologies, Daryl was thankful, as Kit rushed to open the door and see to the dog. As she left she promised to bring back some water and pain killers, if he needed them, once she’d let her do her business in the yard.

He was thankful that she had seemed too distracted and was now too busy with other things to notice, his massive morning glory. It had been a fucking long time since Daryl Dixon had woken up with an erection on this scale. Half his lifetime ago probably. Certainly not any time in the last three years anyway. It wasn’t helping his hangover much, to have to deal with THIS shit on top of it but there was nothing else for it. She’d be busy for a few minutes. This thing needed attending to. He grabbed a few wet-wipes from the little emergency bag she kept by the ‘bed’ and got to work, cursing his traitorous body.

___________________

Patterson had been uneventful and the car was in place and camouflaged well before noon. Daryl was grateful for an easy morning, as they were both in a delicate state from the night before. It wasn’t so much the hangover, as neither of them actually suffered much with that but the waking up in such close quarters, which had messed with their minds a little. For Daryl there was the additional niggling worry of this morning’s impressive erection and the creeping feeling that it had more to do with his proximity to Kit than he’d have ever admitted to anyone else and deeply begrudged admitting to himself.

Having pulled the last of the camouflage over the car bonnet, they returned to the landy and Daryl joined Kit on the passenger side. As he swung into place he vaguely noticed her fumbling with the charging lead on the cigarette lighter. He hadn’t seen whatever she bundled into the backpack behind her but it had been replaced with an MP3 player. The landy was the most basic vehicle he’d ever been in and apparently British farmers of the 1990’s didn’t require stereo systems at all. Or maybe U.S. flyboys of the 21^st century just hadn’t got around to that part yet.

She handed him the player as she pulled onto the road and told him he could be DJ but they’d only hear what came out of the portable speaker plugged into the player, so he’d “better whack it up to eleven.”

Daryl couldn’t remember the last time he’d been in control of the sound-track on a road-trip. Damn, he couldn’t remember the last time a road-trip had felt like a road-trip. This one did though. The dog sat up in the space between them, the bag of snacks-for-the-road by his feet. With his crossbow and her recurve takedown hunting bow jostling together on top of her ‘armoury’ box in the back, they could be setting out on a Labor Day Weekend hunt back in the real world. This trip actually did feel like a road-trip and made up a little for this morning’s weirdness.

He flicked through her music collection and deciding there was far too much and it was all far too eclectic for him to narrow down, he settled on a playlist. ‘Happy travelling music’. Much of it was entirely unknown to him but what he recognised on the list, he liked. Once the playlist started he discovered that what he didn’t recognise, he thought he’d probably grow to like…. given the chance. It was a three hour drive from here to Alexandria and Daryl never skipped a single track.

Chapter Text

The flurry of activity at the gate had drawn his attention instantly. The immediate threat of the Saviours was gone but it wasn’t beyond the realms of possibility that some of the splintered remains of that group were still out there and still wanted blood. Rick lived in a constant state of panic these days. If Negan had taught him anything worth knowing, it was that panic was appropriate in this world and that if you let your guard down and allowed yourself to believe you were safe and prepared and had it all worked out, for even a millisecond, some unscrupulous, evil bastard would show up at your gates, hold up a mirror and show you what hubris looks like.

It was Daryl, the shouts from the gate confirmed. Rick motioned for them to let him in. He didn’t get why they’d hesitated for a second, Daryl was one of them, they should have let him in even if his arm was hanging off and he was bit all over, just so he could die here with his family. Although Rick knew, as well as he knew his own name, that if Daryl ever got bit there’s no way on earth he’d risk coming back here to die. Rick knew that Daryl would rather die out there alone and in agony than risk bringing death back here with him.

He understood their reticence a little better when he saw the Land Rover crawl across their threshold and the unfamiliar woman in the driver’s seat (which should, by rights, have been the passenger seat).

As Rick approached the car, with a mixture of joy, at seeing his brother back safe and sound and abject horror that David was nowhere to be seen and Daryl had chosen to bring home a fucking stray, the passenger door (which should have been the driver’s door) opened before the vehicle came to a complete halt.

“Rick, I lost David.” Daryl began, approaching the man he’d come to consider a second brother with out -stretched arms, to subtly show that there were no threats here. “We got over-run.”

Rick was sorry to hear it. David had seemed like a decent kid, might have made a good fighter one day but he hadn’t had any close kin in these walls. There’d be no howling mothers or sisters to deal with, so his loss wasn’t the main priority right now. Rick acknowledged Daryl’s words but didn’t take his eyes off the woman in the car, or her dog.

“This here’s Kit.” Daryl offered, “She’s a friend Rick. She helped me out, cleaned me up and gave me somewhere safe to rest up ‘fore she brought me home.” Rick stole a quick glance in Daryl’s direction. He’d never heard the other man so ready to admit to needing help before. His eyes quickly darted back to the stranger though. A little less hostile but no less wary.

“Thought you weren’t looking for strays anymore Daryl.” Rick grumbled low enough for her not to hear.

“I ain’t.” Replied Daryl, matching Rick’s low register. “And she ain’t.” He said. Noting Rick’s confusion he added “She’s no stray Rick. She been on her own out there almost from the start but she don’t need saving. She’s here to trade and I told her she’d be welcome to stay a few days, as my guest but she don’t WANT to stay no longer.” Daryl caught Rick’s eye and held it at last. “You’re gonna want her to though man, I can promise you that. She’s one o’ the most useful people I’ve ever met, before or after and we’re gonna want to convince her to stay. You can trust me on that.”

Rick did trust him. Daryl was one of the few people on earth that Rick would ever entrust with his life and more importantly, the lives of his children. If there was anything that he had learned about the man in front of him these past three years, it was that when shit got real and someone was coming for you, you really wanted Daryl Dixon in your corner. So Daryl’s say so carried a lot of weight and gave whatever or whoever he was vouching for a little credit. It didn’t sew up the deal though. Daryl hadn’t been infallible as far as ‘good-people-radar’ was concerned, so Kit would need some scrutiny before she got free reign. Whatever Daryl had promised her.

________________

An hour later Rick had to admit she seemed like the real deal.

Some of her previous work and survival experience would be invaluable skills for their community and if first impressions paid off, Rick had to admit that Daryl was right and Rick was going to want her to stay.

She was polite and articulate but Rick spotted her bullshit façade straight off. It didn’t concern him overly, underneath he saw that she was a little withdrawn, almost shy. She was masking nervousness, that was all, he was almost certain. He couldn’t blame her. She’d just walked into the most heavily armed, battle hardened, stronghold for miles around. She was out-numbered, out-gunned and if they chose to ignore the civilities, they could take whatever they wanted from her and she couldn’t do shit about it. He wasn’t entirely sure that, if he’d been in her shoes, there would be anything about Daryl that would have convinced him to walk inside these gates.

As he watched Kit go with Maggie, to check the trade goods she’d brought, he caught the look she and Daryl shared for a split second. A look searching for reassurance and getting it. A look conveying trust and imbuing confidence. How the hell had that happened in four days? It had taken Rick weeks and endless shared adversity to get remotely near that point with Daryl. She trusted him with her life already and what’s more Daryl trusted her.

The only people in Alexandria that Daryl really trusted, trusted with the lives of his family, as he’d just trusted her to go off alone with a heavily pregnant Maggie, WERE his family. Even after the hoard invasion, even after Negan. He worked alongside them, didn’t balk at their having a say, fought for their points of view occasionally and would trust them with his own back but he wouldn’t have trusted anyone but his core group, to look after Judith for more than two minutes. Rick saw immediately that Daryl would consider Kit a safe pair of hands for ANY member of his core family and that had to give Rick pause.

They hadn’t had a moment to exchange words, except for those mumbled sentences by the gate, without her being present. She clung, without touching or even being within touching distance, to Daryl from the moment she’d got out of the vehicle. They seemed to be attached by some kind of invisible cord. There was nothing Rick could do, without being a completely unreasonable asshole, but lead them somewhere quiet to discuss this ‘visit’. He’d wanted to question her harder than he had but feared the raising of her dog’s heckles no more than he did Daryl’s, who he could feel bristling by his side as he quizzed her.

Between them they’d given a full account of how they’d met, the predicament of the girls from Hilltop and bringing down the group who’d taken them. Rick had fought to hide how impressed he’d been by that. It wouldn’t hurt to have Hilltop owe them a debt either. He also fought the urge to tell Daryl never to do anything so stupid again and impress upon him how pissed off he’d be if Daryl got himself killed, one of these days, just ‘cos he couldn’t reign in his ‘hero’ instincts. That could wait.

Rick could tell that Kit was leaving out chunks of information about exactly where she’d been and what she had going on in Garvey. He also knew that Daryl MUST know exactly what she had and where to find it but he also knew by now that he and Kit had made some tacit agreement to keep that kind of intel between them. Daryl would never sell her out and somehow she knew that as well as Rick did. That all kind of pissed him off and made him smile at the same time. But Rick would be damned if anyone alive was going to see the smile.

“What the fuck Daryl?” he asked as soon as she was out of earshot “she got your balls in a blender somewhere outside the walls or something?” Daryl shot him his deadliest scowl. “I get it, I get it.” He said holding up a steadying hand. “I see why you brought her, I see she could be an asset and god knows we needed the drugs she brought. I ain’t saying you shouldn’t have brought her here and I ain’t saying she can’t stay for a few days and trade with us when she’s nearby.” Rick watched as the other man’s face regained a little composure but he noticed him shift his weight nervously, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “I’m just saying, don’t think for a second I don’t know that she’s got resources we need somewhere in Garvey and that I don’t know that you know exactly where they are.”

Daryl squared up to Rick and answered him straight. “It’s her stuff. Ain’t mine, ain’t yours.” He pointed first at himself and then at Rick for emphasis. “She’s worked hard to make sure she’s got cushions for hard times and she’s out there every damn day on her own.” Rick had really hit a nerve here, “If it’d been up to me she’d have given us less in this trade than she is doing. Told her she was being too generous but she insisted, ‘cos she’s like that. I ain’t giving up her stash, don’t ask me to.”

Rick had rarely heard Daryl so passionate about anything for months, maybe even years. He was suddenly seeing flashes of the Daryl he’d known at the prison, before the darker chapters of their travels. The man he’d only fleetingly glimpsed now and again here in Alexandria, between bleak, desperate times and his occasional descent into sombre, black moods. Whoever she was, it might be worth keeping Kit sweet for a few days just to breathe life back into this man, who always deserved far more than he’d ever got out of life. “Alright, alright. I’m not asking.” He said, holding up a consiliatory hand. “Just saying, don’t think I don’t know.” They both nodded.

“She can stay with Tara and the others, they got a spare room and she’ll be just next door, so we can keep an eye out for her.” Rick offered, adding “If we want to see what she’s made of then we need to see her in action. She can rest up the rest of today and tomorrow, help Maggie in the garden or something but I need to send her with Glenn on a run and on a hunt with you and I want a full report from everyone who spends time with her.” Rick sensed Daryl’s conflicting feelings about having to test someone he already trusted, someone who already didn’t WANT to stay and might even be scared off by too much ‘red tape’.

“This isn’t the old world Daryl and we’ve gotta be more careful than we were before, especially with the smart ones that can manage on their own.” His tone was softer now, coaxing. “If she’s as much an asset as you say, I’ll be leading the charge on the charm offensive we lay out to keep her here. I promise you that brother but we aren’t just dishing out Green Cards to everyone. Not anymore.”

Daryl nodded at that. He got it and he could feel that Rick was coming around to his way of thinking already. It didn’t take a genius to spot Kit’s value and he was sure that everyone she met would agree. He gave the other man a half smile and returned Rick’s pat of agreement on the arm “Alright.” He mumbled amiably.

They heard the dog and the women returning at that and Rick couldn’t help himself… before the ladies rounded the corner he said, low enough so they wouldn’t hear “I mean unless you wanna marry her or something, then obviously she gets a Green Card by default.” Rick enjoyed immensely Daryl’s discomfort at being so thrown off and not being able to do a damn thing about it in front of Maggie and Kit.

As the two women tried to puzzle out how the two men had switched demeanours, from an amiable and encouraging Daryl and a hostile Rick, to an almost joyful Rick and a face-like-thunder Daryl, in the five minutes they’d been absent. Rick wondered just how close he was to the mark, with his last comment and Daryl tried to work out how to stop himself hitting Rick really hard in the fucking smug, stupid face.

Chapter Text

Carol waited patiently on the bench, taking in the view of Alexandria. From here she could see the gate and many of the houses surrounding the small lake at the centre of the community. She’d always liked this spot and when she’d decided that she needed to talk with Kit, she’d chosen to wait here because she’d have ample time to catch the other woman as she walked from the equipment storage rooms, in one of the unfinished houses, to her own digs.

Carol knew that Daryl would stay behind, he’d have other things to attend to. Carol had made sure of it by sending Carl on an errand to waylay him. Most people would be in their homes now, settling in for the night. She was almost guaranteed to have Kit to herself for a few minutes at the very least.

She’d been back in town three days and had already decided that she wouldn’t be staying long before she even arrived. She’d known that leaving without a word all those months ago had created tension between her and some of her ‘family’ group. They’d all understood on some level and they’d all forgiven her but she knew that something in their relationships had been lost that she would never entirely get back again.

The Kingdom and Ezekiel had been good to her. They’d helped her recover from her wounds, both physical and emotional and she’d found some kind of peace there. She had a place, a purpose but there was no one there that it would kill her to lose and no one there expected her to fight, to kill, to be the dead-eyed machine she’d let herself become. That was enough for now.

Carol had been back several times since abandoning Alexandria but she knew she wouldn’t come back for good. It saddened her a little that they’d all stopped trying to convince her she should but she was also glad of the fact that they’d accepted her decision finally and were moving on.

After walking through the gate three days ago, it had taken precisely ten minutes for Maggie and Tara to pull her aside for the latest gossip. She expected the usual roll-call of new members, teenagers acting out, new crops in the gardens, perhaps a salacious new relationship blossoming between residents. She hadn’t expected the news to be that Daryl had brought home a stray.

She was glad of it. To her, it meant he was recovering some of his old self again. After all the knocks of the past few months, the last time she’d seen him he’d still been mired in one of his distant spells of depression. It gladdened her heart to think that he was allowing himself to trust his instincts again, to trust that there were still good people in the world despite everything they’d been through and all the evidence to the contrary.

In many ways, Daryl was more of a boy than Carl, she thought. More of an innocent. He might look tough and act it much of the time but each death, each betrayal, each soul-destroying ‘lesser of two evils’ choice ate away at his sensitive heart. Each time he’d retreat into his shell again. To the dark hole where nothing could hurt him.

Except that hole didn’t exist anymore. It might have worked in the old world but here Daryl had built relationships he couldn’t hide from, formed bonds he couldn’t sever. He’d started to try to understand where his pain came from, the pain he’d carried long before the dead started walking and he’d begun the long process of learning how to put it away.

She was glad then, that Daryl was showing signs of the man he so desperately wanted and deserved to be, so obviously WAS inside, behind his slowly crumbling walls. But that wasn’t where the tail ended.

Maggie and Tara had gone on to describe Kit and her backstory. They told her how Daryl and Kit had met and that they’d spent four days together before arriving at Alexandria’s gates. That they’d hardly been apart since, except to sleep.

Tara told her how Daryl had commandeered Aaron and Eric’s garden granny-flat for her because she wasn’t used to being surrounded by people and Maggie told her how Rick had set them all to take her on runs, hunts and gardening duties to see if she was a good fit and if they should try to convince her to stay. But that Daryl hadn’t just taken her on the planned hunt with Michonne and Gary, he’d taken her on a second hunt today, just the two of them.

Carol could see what was coming. Both Maggie and Tara had their eyebrows raised and their best gossipy housewives faces on. She could almost cry with laughter at them. She waited.

“I swear Carol, I don’t know her well enough to call it on her side but I’ve never seen Daryl like this, none of us have and I think she’s got the hots for him too. It’s weird.”

“So weird!” added Tara “It’s like your desk-fan announcing it has a thing for the coffee pot.” The other two women did laugh at that. “Well it just doesn’t seem like something they’d do, you know.”

Carol had thought back to the early days, at the prison. She’d had a bit of a thing for Daryl herself at that time, she didn’t mind admitting. He’d been so sweet over Sophia. She’d let him comfort her, grown to care for him, flirted with him, tried to tease. She’d thought he just wasn’t interested to start with but he didn’t seem to mind her company or the banter. It had taken her a while to realise but she’d finally reached the sad conclusion that Daryl had no idea she was genuinely interested in him for himself. He actually thought she was just being funny with him. He just didn’t think about these things. Just didn’t think that way. Just didn’t imagine anyone else might think of HIM that way and mean it.

After that realisation, she’d begun to feel less attracted to him as a possible lover and far more affection for him as a wounded, broken boy who’d been forced to pretend to be a man, far too early and for far too long. Carol loved Daryl fiercely and she knew he felt the same way, despite her skipping out on them all those months ago but she hadn’t been the right woman for him. She wasn’t sure what Daryl needed but it hadn’t been her, not like that anyway. It hadn’t been any other woman – or man - they’d met along the way either. She’d begun to suspect that Daryl was made to live a solitary life in this world, to be always apart, to suffer and bear witness and die alone, the last man standing.

“I get why Daryl would stump you but why do you say ‘they’?” Carol asked.

“Well that’s just the thing Carol,” Maggie began “they’re the same way.” She shook her head at the older woman. “Kit ain’t looked at anyone twice since she got here. You know what some o’ these hounds are like and it ain’t like they aren’t gonna try when Daryl ain’t lookin’ but she’s not even blanking them, she’s just totally oblivious.”

“Like Daryl.” Tara and Carol finished the sentence for her.

“I never met anyone so completely oblivious to the opposite sex – that wasn’t actually gay – before Daryl but I’m telling you Carol, I met another one now.” She turned her head a little to the side and dropped her voice slightly, as though she was sharing a state secret. “Thing is, they ain’t shy around each other. It’s like they’re a couple already the way they ‘fit’. “ Maggie used her hands to highlight her assertion. “You know how funny Daryl can be about his personal space?.. Well she’s like that too, with everyone else but with him it’s fine. No barriers.”

“And she’s got this dog. Huge thing she is, follows her around like her shadow.” Tara added, “It’s not used to being around other people, so no one touches it unless Kit’s there. But Daryl…. Daryl’s the dog’s best friend in the world, to look at them. She’ll follow HIM like a shadow when Kit’s not around and Michonne said that when they went on their hunt, the dog followed Daryl’s commands, like he was as much her master as Kit. And kit hung back and let them get on with it, didn’t seem to mind a bit.”

“So, you’re thinking what?” Carol asked, “That Daryl and this Kit are getting it on?” It sounded ridiculous to even think it, never mind say it.

“No, you don’t get it.” Maggie answered, “They ain’t doin’ nothin’ about it. I mean, I think they both like each other in that way but you know what Daryl’s like… ain’t no way he’s gonna put that shit into words and he ain’t gonna try and jump her, so nothing’s gonna come from that side. Even if he WAS brave enough to put himself out there, he wouldn’t risk scaring her off and having her go back out there on her own. He’s stuck.”

“And she’s just as bad.” Added Tara, “she might WANT to jump his bones but she’s not going to say it and she’s not going to give him a clear enough signal. No sign COULD ever be clear enough for Daryl, let’s face it.” They all nodded at that.

“It’s kind of beautiful and sweet and really, really fucking sad, all at the same time.” Maggie concluded.

“I see.” Said Carol and she quickly turned the topic to other things.

__________________

She’d seen it, right there on first meeting. Damage. Maybe not quite the same as Daryl’s but something like it. Something of a very similar vintage and a very similar depth. Sophia would have carried their kind of damage into adulthood too. It made her sick to her stomach that she’d been that weak a mother, the one that would have allowed her daughter to grow up with a festering wound at her core. That she would have failed her child the way these two had been failed as children. That if none of this had ever happened, if Ed hadn’t died, if Sophia hadn’t died, they’d have carried on as they were before and slowly dug Sophia her own dark hole to crawl into, as her only safe refuge.  

Kit was a marvel though. She had all her ducks in order. This girl could have survived out there on her own for years, decades, Carol had no doubt in her abilities. And the wonder of it was that she was still human. Still a good person. She’d had to do terrible things, of course, she must have. But she was still a hero, when her help was needed, those Hilltop girls could attest to that. She was still generous when she could be. A real sweatheart beneath a bad-ass exterior. She was SO like Daryl in essentials, Carol couldn’t help but like her.

She saw the distance she kept from everyone. Had tested it out herself, to see just how close she could get before Kit’s discomfort made things awkward. She’d allow the core group, Daryl’s ‘family’, a little closer than everyone else but not much. Daryl himself?...No barriers. Just like Maggie had said. To watch the two of them together, you’d never know that either of them had any kind of intimacy or trust issues. Together they were normal. Companionable. Friendly. Close.

Carol saw what the two women had been talking about. You might be forgiven for thinking that the two of them were into each other but she suspected that the truth was a little sadder than that. She suspected that both Daryl and Kit were aware that they liked each other more than was normal for them, especially with a relative stranger but she was almost certain that neither one of them suspected that the other felt the same way.

Kit saw Daryl mostly interacting with his ‘family group’, people he’d lived and suffered, fought and killed alongside for three years. She didn’t see how Daryl would be with a normal stranger. She had no frame of reference, no way of knowing that she was in any way ‘special’ to him. Daryl just wouldn’t ever allow himself to believe that a woman like Kit was interested in him at all, even if she did make her feelings clear. He’d do what he’d done with Carol herself. He’d like being around her, spend time with her when he could, let her get away with things he’d never take from anyone else, grow to love her over time but never lay a hand on her, never even think to.

It wasn’t a question of either of them being brave enough to show their feelings to each other. It was a case of neither of them recognising or being able to understand the feelings they had for each other THEMSELVES.

Hence the need for this little intervention. It had taken three days but Carol was now quite clear on three points:

Was Kit a good ‘fit’ for Alexandria? – Emphatically yes. She brought a lot to the table and she would settle into life around others eventually. Especially with periodic breaks from the monotony of ‘town’ life, on runs and hunts outside the walls.

Was Kit good and more importantly good enough, for Daryl? – Emphatically yes. It seemed like she’d brought him back to life, after the darkness of the past year or so. She hadn’t seen Daryl so relaxed and smiling and laughing so much, since she’d known him, as she’d witnessed in the past three days.

Were Kit and Daryl likely to make it work between them, if she could convince one of them to make the first move? – That one was a shakier answer but Carol had to believe there was a chance. They definitely had a connection, everyone had noticed that and Carol saw chemistry under the surface of their platonic double-act. They both deserved a chance at least.

There was only one way to find out for sure and only one of them to approach.

Maggie was right, there was no way she could ever convince Daryl, to the point where he was sure enough of Kit’s affections, to risk frightening her off and forcing her back out into the world on her own. The longer Kit stayed the happier he was because she was safer here, or at least he felt like she was safer because he could keep an eye on her. And the longer she stayed under those conditions, the less likely he was to rock the boat, even if he did start to realise how he felt about her.

Kit however… well, she wasn’t invested in the PLACE yet, the friendships she’d started to forge were still at the disposable stage. Carol was less worried about Kit striking out with Daryl and heading for the gate because she knew Kit could handle herself and she knew that the risk would be outweighed by the reward. On a mercenary level, she also realised that, much as she liked and respected Kit and would welcome her with open arms as a sister if things worked out, she didn’t care nearly as much about the risks of breaking her heart as she did about Daryl’s.

So Kit would be having a nice little chat with Carol this afternoon. “And here she comes now.” Carol said to herself as she rose and made her way over to intercept Kit’s path.

“Kit. Hi!” she opened breezily, “You just get back from a run?”

“Hiya Carol.” Kit answered, stopping to allow Carol to catch up. “Yeah, just a quick one. I took Daryl out to a studio I came across a few weeks ago, brought back some radio equipment and manuals. If we can get a HAM set up and running we’ll be able to keep in touch with other nearby settlements much more easily.”

“That’s great!” Carol was yet again struck by how clear-headed and forward thinking Kit was. Why had no one else thought to make communication between the settlements a priority yet? “This place will be lucky to have you if you decide to stay.” She pointed the question deliberately, trying to tease Kit out a little.

“Hah, yeah thanks.” She replied, in her characteristically non-committal fashion. “Do you fancy a cuppa?” She asked, amiably. “I was just going to put the kettle on. I thought Daryl and I deserved one after today but he got held up with Carl, seemed important so he might not be coming, care to join me instead?”

“Perfect.” Carol purred “I’d love to.”

The little granny flat was basic but Kit didn’t seem to mind. As long as she had a kettle, somewhere for the dog to sleep, a bed of her own, a little privacy and running water, carol got the impression that she’d be happy enough here to call it home forever.

“You know, I admire you.” She started, honestly enough “You’re a true survivor, out there on your own all this time. I couldn’t do it. I’d have been dead long ago if it weren’t for the others, if it weren’t for Daryl.” Too much… that had been too much, too pointed. Kit stiffened as she poured out the tea with her back turned to Carol.

She placed the cup in front of Carol and risked a little look up. Was she afraid of Carol? “I know you guys are all close.” She said, ignoring the compliment and reacting to the meat of Carol’s words. “I can’t imagine what a bond it must be for you all, having been through everything you have together. I can’t even imagine what a real family would be like but you must be even stronger than that.”

“I suppose, in a way we are.” Carol found herself unexpectedly drifting off topic. “I love them all so fiercely, I think that’s why I can’t stay.” She admitted.

“I hope you don’t mind my being here?” Kit asked tentatively “I don’t know if I’ll stay, I think I want to but I can’t imagine ever having the connection you all have. Having a place, you know? I don’t know that I’m capable.”

And there it was. She wasn’t afraid of Carol, she was jealous of her. The years invested, the bonds forged through hardship and over time. The bond with one man in particular, Carol suspected.

“Oh I think you are.” Carol replied with a subtle, sly smile. “I think you already have as strong a bond with one of us, as any of the rest of us can claim.”

Carol saw the tiniest hint of a blush, creeping across Kit’s features, as she scrutinised the contents of her own cup. That told Carol everything she needed to know. Her instincts were right, Kit felt something for Daryl, she was beginning to let herself understand her own feelings but she didn’t dare imagine that he felt anything in return. It was time, Carol decided, to drop the bullshit.

“He feels the same you know.” No reaction.

“I’ve never seen Daryl as happy, as free, as…himself, as he has been these past three days.” Definitely blushing now. “I know you couldn’t possibly know what he was like before but I see the change in him. And I don’t know what you were like before but I see how different you are with him to the way you are with everyone else. You don’t expect anyone to notice you but I can promise you HE does, he sees you. I can promise you it’s not just friendship on either side…. Not if you do something about it.”

If it were possible for a body to implode on itself Kit would have done so as Carol spoke, she was quite sure. As it was she fidgeted with the cup and became mezmarised by something in the garden, desperate for the ground to swallow her up.

“I’m not telling you to do anything but I can tell you that he feels it too. This connection between you.” Carol continued mercilessly. “And I can tell you that he’ll never do a thing about it because he doesn’t for a second think he deserves you, or that you could possibly feel anything for him. And I can promise you he’d rather suffer in silence, for the rest of his days, than scare you off and sentence you to a life back out there on your own.” She smiled at the other woman’s discomfort. Feelings ran deep here, this really had to be done. “He’s too selfless for his own good that one.” She concluded.

Standing up, she placed her cup on the drainer and thanked Kit for the tea. She stopped at the door, taking pity on the poor girl, as she saw a tear roll down the side of her cheek, stubbornly withholding the rest of her face from Carol’s scrutiny. “I don’t mean to hurt you. I want what’s best for him and I think you could be it. I think he could be it for you too. But you’ll have to make the first move and it’ll have to be something he can’t ignore or misinterpret.” She tapped the door before taking her leave. “I’ll catch him before he gets here, make sure he leaves you be tonight. Let you have some time to think. Goodnight Kit.”

She closed the door behind her and patted the dog warily as she made her way towards the gate. It was up to her now. The ball was in Kit’s court.

Chapter Text

He wasn’t going to do anything, she knew that by now. Knew it before Carol had confirmed it the previous evening.

She’d known she was safe with him from the start and it had been a relief then. Now she knew him better, felt like she’d known him all her life, she knew that he’d never overstep the mark, never do anything, even if he wanted to. Certainly not without a clear sign from her and maybe not even then. He was as bad as she was.

As had become usual, in the past few days, he arrived just as it was getting dark. Tonight, he’d brought a packet of fresh meat, that turned out to be a share of the semi-wild pig he’d brought home from today’s hunt. He’d butchered it himself and shared it out amongst those who needed it, as always.

She knew he loved to hunt, to provide for the community yes but she also understood that the hunts calmed him, settled him, made him feel more like himself. It gave him a chance to flex his expertise and hone his ingrained skills. She knew he liked the time alone, away from the group, so she’d been surprised and pleased that he’d asked her to join him twice this past week.

She suspected that he’d wanted to test her, see what she was capable of. It was probable that Rick had even asked him to take her for that purpose. As she suspected Glenn had been testing her on the first run. But she doubted he’d been compelled to ask her twice.

The second time had definitely been his choice. She’d been flattered beyond words that he’d thought well enough of her abilities to choose her as a hunting partner. It felt like a gold star or a graduation ceremony. She suspected that their companionable teamwork, which had come so easily and felt so natural to her, had appealed to him too.

Rick didn’t like anyone going out alone these days and Daryl hated to carry dead weight or cope with chatty idiots or those who might try and tell him how they’d do it. Daryl didn’t need pointers on anything beyond these walls and found babysitting those who did an unwelcome responsibility. Kit hadn’t needed babysitting since well before the turn. She didn’t need any help dispatching walkers or being quiet in the woods. She could stalk in absolute silence as well as Daryl himself, she was a damn good shot with her bow and wasn’t a bad tracker, if she did say so herself. All of that said, she’d still paid attention and learned a lot from him on both hunts. 

She felt nothing but respect and admiration for Daryl, as a hunter and as a man and she suspected he had a similar opinion of her. He’d made life in Alexandria worth thinking about so far and she had grown to look forward to their down-time together. Usually dinner. Usually a quiet meal and conversation over cards, or just a few quiet drinks on her porch.

Often their chats were like talking to herself or listening to him talking to himself. One of them would ask a question, the other would start to answer and it would lead to a whole story, something they probably hadn’t meant to share and hadn’t even thought about for years, decades. It felt like therapy, these comfortable evenings on the porch. Releasing words into the black night. She felt safe doing it – knowing that he would listen, take it in but keep it close. She hoped he felt that too. She hoped he felt as safe with her as she did with him.

Tonight he was off-hand, as always, about the gift of the meat for their meal. He hated big shows of praise or gratitude. They embarrassed him and made him uncomfortable. She was sure he’d grown to tolerate it from those outside the group but those closest to him knew to keep their thanks low-key. Kit reverted, as always, to her natural default setting.

With an amused half-laugh, she invited him in with a wave of her hand and mumbled “show off” as he passed. She didn’t know if he accepted teasing from many of the others but he accepted it from her. Sometimes responded in kind. At any rate, teasing was more acceptable than undying gratitude and he half-laughed back at her, laying the packet on the counter and throwing the leg bone in his other hand to the dog.

As they prepared and cooked the meal, kit teased some of the details of the rest of his day, since she’d seen him last, out of him and he did the same with her. He liked to hear that she’d met or spoken with members of his ‘family’ group. She knew this and found herself searching them out, just so she could see the look of satisfaction on his face.

Pork had always been a favourite of Kit’s and she’d rustled up some freshly picked vegetables, from Maggie’s garden, as an accompaniment. He’d been pleased to hear that she’d been helping out at the garden and she couldn't tell if he cared for the veg or not but he hadn’t argued and had polished off his portion approvingly enough.

She thought of Sunday lunches in country pubs and wondered if she should try to introduce Alexandria to Yorkshire puddings. Neither of them liked to talk about life ‘before’. They’d both felt safe enough in each other’s company to share more than they had with anyone else. A fact that had apparently not gone unnoticed by ‘the family’ group. But neither of them liked to dwell on the past anymore and they both felt themselves looking forward rather than getting bogged down by the baggage of their damaged childhoods.

Kit knew they’d been good for each other. Daryl’s family group had gathered much of his background and she was sure he’d opened up to one or other of them little-by-little over the years they’d spent in each other’s pockets. They were a close-knit group now. She’d heard a lot of their shared history, first from Daryl and then gradually from the others. She knew that the bond he shared with them – Carol, Rick, Glenn, Maggie, Michonne and the kids especially, was something she’d never be able to replicate with them herself, even with another three years under her belt.

As close as they were though, as well as they knew him and what he was capable of, Kit knew that even that bond wasn’t enough to match their connection. She’d known it, on some level, before Carol’s visit and now she’d spent most of the preceding twenty-four hours thinking of nothing else, she was certain.

Their backgrounds weren’t an exact match and they’d both reacted and dealt quite differently with their adult lives but they had both survived truly shit childhoods, littered with abuse, neglect and apathy. They were veteran survivors before the rest of the world went to shit and had to catch up. They both knew how to protect themselves physically and emotionally from any shit-storm that may erupt around them. They were masters of closing down and switching into badass autopilot when necessary. Both a blessing and a curse.

She also recognised in him the reflection of her own need to protect those weaker than herself. It was half the reason she’d had to get away from the two groups she’d been with previously and the whole reason she’d avoided joining any more until now. She couldn’t face watching the slow descent into base instincts that she’d suspected were just around the corner in group one and the knowledge that group two were cruising for a severe bruising at the hands of whatever nefarious bunch of assholes turned up at their gates next and decided to take over. She didn’t have the power to stop those inevitable outcomes, so she’d given her warning or voiced her opinion and then got the hell out of Dodge. She hated to see anyone bullied or abused and saw that driver written deep through Daryl’s DNA too.

As alike as they were in essentials though, she had been surprised and increasingly glad to find that they seemed to be each other’s exceptions to rules too. Where she would never have dreamt of approaching an armed man like Daryl, alone or not, she’d had to concede that she’d felt an overwhelming urge to do just that from the moment she’d caught sight of him in Garvey. She never flinched when he came near her, never shied away from his touch or his eyes, never considered that he had anything nefarious on his mind or suspected him of telling her anything but the absolute truth. She, in turn, never lied to him, never felt the need to try and analyse the ‘game’ and ‘play’ him, never felt the need to fill their comfortable silences, if he didn’t and never felt uncomfortable in his presence…ever.

She knew it was the same for him. He’d accept a touch or even an occasional hug from the likes of Carol but no one else even tried. Judith was the living human with whom he shared the most physical contact and that was largely because she was too young to read his standoffish body language (not that he was ever standoffish with Judith anyway) and couldn’t walk unaided, needing to be carried whenever she was going any great distance.

Kit had always been closed off and shy of human contact herself. She’d had cause to develop that way in early childhood and had never shaken the habit enough to allow, even those she knew to be benign friends, the kind of familiarity that most people would take for granted. She didn’t even stroke or fuss over the dog. So she’d totally understood Daryl’s position and instinctively knew where it stemmed from, even before he’d shared some of his family history with her.

Somehow though, they had never applied this physical shyness to each other. Helping him into the house on that first day and tending to his leg wound had been contact born of necessity but there had been no awkwardness to it. No steeling herself to drop her barriers for a few necessary minutes. They both seemed never to have thought twice about clasping hands to help each other up. Light touches to alert another person to your proximity as you passed or a touch to the arm or leg to get someone’s attention were normal, natural, daily actions to almost everyone else but to Kit and Daryl they represented an exceptional level of physical intimacy that they were bizarrely comfortable with from each other from day one. With Daryl, Kit was able to be unconscious and natural and she could see that he was comfortable with her too, in ways that he was still only barely able to cope with from the people he’d been closest to for three years solid.

Still. She knew he’d do nothing about any of it.

At first she’d put their ‘special relationship’ down to their similarly shitty backgrounds and assumed that their companionship would perhaps grow to be like his familial bond with his group. She’d hoped so, despite herself.

When she’d first arrived in Alexandria she’d planned to drop him off, wish him well and be gone within a day or two. On arrival though, she’d found it hard to think of leaving him here alone. Hard for herself, to just go out into the world again, alone. She’d never considered herself alone before, her own company (never mind the dog’s) had always been enough and she was sure Daryl hadn’t either. But now she knew that if she left him she would feel a loss. An emptiness. If she left Alexandria at all now, it could never be for long. She would always have to be nearby, have to come back.

She’d never had family before. Not a real one anyway but she imagined that this was what it must feel like. She’d kicked herself for bonding with someone so quickly and so completely but she couldn’t quite bring herself to regret it.

It had taken a few more days and a hundred tiny acts of kindness and consideration that no one else would even have noticed or thought anything of. Not least of these had been his idea of her moving into Aaron and Eric’s garden granny flat; a bijou, self-contained residence for one that she was sure he’d had ideas about moving into himself before she’d arrived. He’d seen how uncomfortable she’d been in such close proximity to so many other unfamiliar people. With nowhere to hide but her assigned guest-room or her car, she couldn’t escape the constant questions and interested looks. He knew how she felt, he understood what she needed and he fixed it for her.

The little separate living space, away from prying eyes had made staying here tolerable in a way it wouldn’t have been for much longer at the house. He’d thought she was on the brink of packing up the landy and leaving, she was sure of it. He’d found a way to make her stay. He’d wanted her here as much as she now realised she wanted to stay. For him.

It had taken those few days of knowing him better but she was sure now about something she thought she’d instinctively known from the start back in Garvey. He was ‘it’ for her. She’d never been in love. Never wanted to be or thought she was even capable of it. She’d never really cared much for anyone at all on an emotional level if she was honest. Always found it disturbingly easy to remain detached, even from those who would have considered her a good and reliable friend. But some switch had been flipped and she realised now that she needed him near her, in a way that was at once unfamiliar and all consuming. She’d tried to feel sisterly towards him. She’d failed abysmally and Carol’s words had just confirmed to her, what she’d begun to suspect she’d felt all along.

For the first time since well before the outbreak and for the first time ever with a real person, that she knew, in her thoughts, she’d found herself feeling horny. Last night, for the first time in – she had no idea how long – she’d actually touched herself. To discover a libido in THIS world was crazy. Knowing that Daryl was the cause of it was shocking to her and knowing what she’d have to do about it, if she was going to even consider staying here, was utterly fucking terrifying.

Something had to be done though. Just being in the same room as him was nerve-wracking to her now and she couldn’t live like this for long. These feelings were new to her but she knew what they were and she knew what she wanted.

If he felt the same, great. Terrifying… but great. If he didn’t, she’d put a brave face on it, laugh it off as best she could but she would definitely have to leave. If it was going to come to that she’d rather just rip off the plaster now, than let this torture continue any longer than necessary and possibly make other attachments that would become hard to lose alongside nursing a broken heart.

She knew he’d do nothing, even if he felt the same, for fear of her reaction. He wouldn’t risk pushing her away, back out into the world. Carol had been dead right about that.

So if anything was going to come of this at all – if there even was a ‘this’ – she would have to find out by making a move herself. The ball was firmly in her court. She’d thought of nothing else all day and most of the preceding, sleepless, night. This would be it. Sink or swim.

_________________

They were fed and watered and sitting close on the porch step, taking advantage of a clear, dark night to gaze up at the stars. Conversation, such as it had been, had dropped off some minutes earlier and all that could be heard was the soft buzz of nocturnal insects going about their business and the distant sighs of a sleeping dog.

Kit’s beer had long since run dry and one more sip would see Daryl’s spent too. It was the last in the house and he’d nursed it for an hour or more but it was almost gone and it was getting late and in a minute there’d be no more excuse to stay like this any longer. Something indecipherable crossed Kit’s face in the inky silence and she made up her mind about something important. In the spirit of ‘Now or never’, ‘do or die’ and ‘who dares wins’, she stretched out her hand and reached for Daryl’s.

She’d expected him to flinch at least. This was the most physically presumptuous she’d ever dared so far and an instant recoil would not have surprised her, even if he did share her feelings, but none came. He accepted her hand as naturally and easily as he would have accepted a new topic of conversation. Without a word or a sideways glance, he interlocked his fingers in hers (dare she hope eagerly??) and squeezed her hand lightly in his own.

Kit hadn’t realised she’d been holding her breath until she found herself gasping for air. She braved a little shy glance and found him looking down thoughtfully at their interlaced hands as he drew them into his lap. Like he was puzzling something out. Bringing across his right hand, he touched the back of hers, still cradled in his left. Finding an old, old scar, he traced the line with his thumb. Kit’s brain went into meltdown in that moment and she lost all ability to string a thought together.

She entirely missed the point at which Daryl had switched custody of her hand from his left to his right hand. She’d been absent as he shifted his position and put his left arm around her shoulder, pulling her lightly against his side as he leaned back slightly against the wall behind them. She’d absentmindedly found a comfortable resting place for her head, against his shoulder. And had, with no analysis or forethought, refused to allow his left hand to settle benignly on the step by her hip but had pulled it around her middle and laced her fingers in his around her waist.

When she’d recovered enough to register the world around her they had been sitting in this comfortable but entirely alien attitude for several minutes. She couldn’t remember feeling so at home in another human being’s arms. She couldn’t imagine a more comforting assault on her senses or a safer place to be.

Kit realised suddenly that she couldn’t remember ever really wanting to kiss anyone in her entire life before. She had kissed people, or at least been kissed by them, she was sure she had but she couldn’t recall ‘wanting’ to. She was certain of one thing though, if there was such a memory, if there ever had been a moment of wanting in her life, buried somewhere in her archive, it was nowhere near as potent or as overwhelming as the desire, the desperate urge, she was feeling now.

At the first hint of her movement towards him, Daryl finally turned his face to her and although his own reactions were as tentative, awkward and fumbled as her approach. Their lips somehow met. Eyes closed. Heads tilted. Pressure, proximity and intoxicating intimacy created a spark of passion and as Daryl reached for the nape of her neck and caressed her with a gentle hand. Lips parted and all was lost if either of them had wanted out of this.

They kissed like the teenagers neither of them had ever been, making out on a friend’s sofa, oblivious to everyone and everything else at the party. They clung to each other for dear life, like drowning sailors and hardly came up for air. Kit’s brain was overloaded again and she’d parked it for the foreseeable, preferring the infinitely more enjoyable feedback from her senses. The taste of him, the smell of him, the sound of her eager fingers brushing through his scruffy beard and hair, the almost inaudible growl in the back of his throat reverberating through her body, the feel of his skin, his tongue on hers.

Her own physical reactions were immediate and totally beyond her control. Her nipples almost ached as they formed bullet-like protrusions against her jersey top. The butterflies that had begun to gather last night and built to the point where they threatened to riot all evening, had finally morphed into some kind of volcano in her belly. Molten lava flowed through her veins and arteries, settling in her lower abdomen and she was pretty certain that the pants she was wearing were beyond help at this point, maybe even the trousers too.

Suddenly, and entirely without warning, Daryl broke their kiss. As she regained control of her brain’s higher functions, Kit blearily opened her eyes to find Daryl looking away from her. Holding her at a distance, he was pulling away, standing up, letting go of her.

“Have to go.” He mumbled inexplicably. It was like a bucket of ice-water. Had she gone too far? She’d thought it had all been mutual but had she projected her own feelings on to him?Had Carol been so wrong? Had he been desperate to get her off him for all that time? She was mortified.

“Daryl, I’m sorry,” she began the apology, the precursor to packing her shit and getting the hell out of here before her head exploded with embarrassment “if I…”

He’d turned back and grabbed her flailing hands. “ain’t you, ain’t this,” he assured, still avoiding her eyes “Just gotta go.”

Kit had no idea what that meant, or what to say to it. She was vaguely aware that she would usually know what he was thinking and why he acted the way he did. However, she was also vaguely aware that such insights were beyond her now. She’d got too close, opened the floodgates and now her previously reasonable, accepting mind was a broiling cauldron of hormones and raging, selfish needs.

She actually felt pain spike through her core as he released her again, turned his back and walked away. He made it to the gate before she could summon a single word and had slipped out of the garden before that word escaped her lips. “Fucking-shitty-bollocking-bastard-twatting-arse.” She slumped to the ground, with her head in her hands.

Chapter Text

Daryl had intended to march straight home, as quickly as possible, drink the remaining quart of Jack in his room, maybe start on the one Rick had stashed in the utility room and try to figure out what the hell just happened, or pass out, whichever came first. He’d got no further than the other side of the garden gate. He slumped against the wooden gate and let his jello-like knees give way beneath him.

What the fuck was he going to do. He couldn’t go home. He WAS home. SHE was home. He’d felt it from the second she’d made contact with his hand tonight. She was everything and walking away from her was fucking painful.

She felt it too, this thing inside him, he’d thought it was just him all this time but she felt it too. He didn’t know exactly how long it had been building, maybe even from that first second of eye contact in the lawn-mower showroom but he felt it. And she’d done something about it. She’d put them both out of their misery. And god help her, she’d let all hell break loose.

He couldn’t process the feelings she’d awoken, was scared to death of the needs she’d stoked in his body, making him lose control. Holding her close had felt like the first thing that made sense in his entire fucking life, kissing her felt like heaven. It was too much. Overload. Shit like this didn’t happen to Daryl Dixon. He didn’t deserve it. Didn’t deserve her heaven, didn’t deserve her love. That’s what she was offering, he realised, though god knows why she was offering it to him.

He heard her moving on the porch and ached to hold her again. A door opened and closed behind the gate at his back. It sounded so final, it shocked him out of his spiralling daze and he realised instantly that he’d just done the single most stupid thing in his entire life.

--------------------------------

Kit looked around the room in the sombre gloom of the solar garden light that she used as night-time indoor lighting. She hadn’t really unpacked yet. It wouldn’t take long to get her stuff together and go. She’d grab a couple of hours kip, throw her shit in the landy and head out before dawn. Or maybe those couple of hours of sleep would rub her brain cells back to life and fill in the missing part of this puzzle. Maybe she’d understand what the fuck was going on after a couple of hours of sleep. Could she sleep? Even if she wanted to? That was the question.

She was staring absently at her empty bed, contemplating the impossibility of unconsciousness, for the second night in a row, when she heard a knock at her door. She looked uselessly at the blackness beyond the French doors leading from this room onto the porch. The knock had come from the other door. The living-room door.

Tentatively, she approached and opened the French door of her bedroom, expecting Aaron or Eric.

Before she had a chance to pull the door closed again and shut him out, Daryl closed the distance between them on the porch and held the door firmly open.

Kit didn’t know where to look. He was trying to catch her eye now and she couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze. “I’m sorry.” He breathed as he bent to try and make eye contact.

She was determined to avoid looking him directly in the face. She shook her head lightly. “Doesn’t matter. It’s fine.” She lied, wanting this to be over, whatever it was. Maybe he felt guilty or something, who knew. She would usually but reason and her ‘Daryl-sense’ had left the building. Now she just wanted him off her porch so she could start the process of forgetting he ever existed.

“Naah, it’s not.” He gave up on eye contact and in desperation, went for physical contact. He hooked his arm around her waist and pulled her towards him. He heard her shocked intake of breath and prayed he wasn’t overstepping but he had to get through to her now, or he knew he’d lose her forever. “I’m sorry Kit.” He caught her chin in his left hand and brought her face up level with his. “I freaked out. ‘m sorry.” She forced herself not to look, not to let him see her eyes. “I’m an idiot. An asshole. A fuckin’ coward. Don’t deserve ya – smart enough to know that. But if ya gi’me another chance I’ll damn well try to?”

She screwed her eyes tight at that and made her decision. It would all be over the second she opened them in any case, so she’d better form a coherent sentence first. She looked directly into his stormy blue gaze and breathed “I’m scared too you know.” His mumbled reply was lost in the clash of their eager mouths and there were no more words.

___________________

Both Daryl and Kit were woefully unpractised at intimacy with the opposite sex, indeed anyone for that matter. Their burgeoning passion for each other had to drive them through fumbling embarrassments, one after another, before they finally made it from the porch to the bed.

Somehow they managed, with minimal breaks in the kisses that sustained them through this odyssey, to get themselves naked and horizontal. That had been a real breakthrough, as neither were comfortable in their own skin and certainly not expecting to be comfortable showing so much of it to another human being.

The kissing helped. They’d gone for speed and concentrating on each other’s soft lips and eager tongues, saving each other’s embarrassment by not looking elsewhere until they were ready. Now they were in each other’s arms, skin against skin - time for the really awkward part.

They pulled back at the same moment and sought the answer to a question in each other’s eyes. “Is this real?”, “Do we really want this?” – “No going back – are we sure?” The answer to every question was a nervous but resounding “yes.”

Breaking the spell, Daryl ran his hand gently over her shoulder and down to her breast. He wasn’t at all sure what to do with it really, having little experience of any kind of foreplay but the texture was intoxicating, her skin was like silk. As he lightly rolled the stiff nipple between his fingers, she trembled slightly at his tender touch and her cheeks blazed at this level of unexpected but very much wanted intimacy.

It crossed his mind that his skin must feel like sandpaper to her but if that thought occurred to her there was no sign of it on her face. She leant towards him and resumed their kiss, deepening it with her soft full lips and her searching tongue, sending a charge through his whole being.

He moved slowly, taking his time to explore her body and test the sensations he could illicit from her as he caressed her gently from her breasts to her hip, following the inverted curve of her waist. He squeezed her lightly in every soft area he found along his path and found that she responded to them with little squeezes of her own on his arm and his chest.

As he explored her haunches with his hand, he began to adventure down her neck with his lips and tongue. Licking and softly biting as he went. Her breath became ragged as he worked his way south.

On an impulse, he felt inspired to try something he’d never done before. From deep in his memory banks he dredged up a thousand scenes from Merle’s old porno stash and felt like he knew enough to try it out for himself. As he got closer, he could feel her stiffening nervously and it made him hungry to know her body better than she did herself.

She wasn’t bald, like some of those porno girls but her pubic hair was neat and the texture excited him as he rubbed against the little patch above her sex. Her tender flesh was pure heaven and her juices tasted sweet and heavy, like over-ripe fruit. Daryl couldn’t get enough of her. Every lick, every nibble, every suck elicited a response in her body. An arching of the back, an involuntary noise in the throat, a handful of his thick hair raked into her fist.

Daryl was sure she was enjoying it, her arousal was pretty clear but he’d had no idea he would like it this much too. It was all new to him and he was sure he had plenty to learn but he was damn sure he was willing to put in the time to practice. This was going to be his new favourite pastime.

As he worked his way back up her body he met her gaze and she smiled pure ecstasy at him. He knew he was smiling back, as he couldn’t remember ever having done before in his life. His face ached with it. His entire body ached with the pure joy of being with her, in this moment, in this bed, with the taste of her most private parts still in his mouth. The most confident, the most wanted, the most alive he’d felt in his entire existence.

He brushed her hair back with one hand and settling himself comfortably, he looked into her eyes for her consent. Finding nothing there but eagerness and encouragement, he reached down, between their bodies, to guide his hardness into her entrance.

She was as wet as she could be and he was gentle but as he eased his head inside her tight opening, her face registered pain and his heart sank to have caused her a moment of discomfort. Recovering quickly, she saw his hesitation and clutched him to her, resuming their kiss and the moment of doubt was gone. He let her adjust to his length by easing incrementally inside her tight walls until he was in her, from root to tip, all the way.

He moved gently and slowly, not wanting to rush himself or her. He knew he wouldn’t last long. It had been a long-ass time since he’d been with a woman of any sort and he’d never been with one he’d cared about or wanted even a fraction as desperately as Kit. He’d also never been with a woman who was as timid and unworldly as Kit seemed to be. He was sure she wanted this, he was sure she wanted him but she was letting him lead the way and he suspected he knew enough about her past to fill in the blanks as to why.

He’d stretch this out as long as he could but he’d resigned himself to a disappointing first try. That’d been why he’d wanted to try out those old porno moves and do something to get her on her way before he’d entered her. Hopefully the experience would be good enough not to put her off more because this was already, by far, the best sex Daryl had ever had and he’d only just got his dick involved in the action. He definitely wanted more of everything and hoped she would too.

To both of their surprise, Kit had thrown her head back, cried out and started shaking and shuddering with waves of blistering orgasm, long before Daryl felt the tell-tale tightening in his balls and the tingling in his spine that heralded his own. As he came, like an explosion in a cum factory, deep inside her, he had no idea how he’d lasted so long. At the same time, she had no idea where the orgasms that had eluded her, her whole life, even when she’d been ministering to herself, had come from. Both collapsed next to each other in an exhausted heap of flushed cheeks and sweat soaked limbs.

As they held each other close and drifted into a deep, satisfying, dreamless sleep, they prayed to the god that neither of them really believed in, that this was real. That they’d wake in each other’s arms tomorrow and do it all again…. All day, if possible.

Chapter Text

She moved lightly but didn’t wake. It was enough to bring him to full consciousness though. He hadn’t slept so soundly, or so long, in months, if not years but it was still a ‘ready’ kind of sleep. The brush of her hand on his chest was all it took to bring him around.

He couldn’t quite believe that she was real, that he was here in her bed. She lay peacefully in his arms. Like she belonged there. Like they’d spent his whole life, just hanging around, waiting for her to turn up and give them a true purpose. He was totally alright with that. It felt damn good to be her comforter, her pillow, her goddamn teddy bear if she wanted. Whatever. This felt right.

He’d never thought about settling down, even before, even to one place, never mind with a woman. Women had been around, sure. He’d been shamed and bullied into showing some kind of interest at points throughout his life but to him, they’d always just been slightly smaller worthless assholes, with slightly better hygiene. As far as he was concerned, there’d never been any reason to pair up with one or be any less wary of them than of his brother, or his brother’s asshole friends; who he supposed had also been his asshole friends, as he’d never actually bothered to try and make any real ones of his own.

He ran a rough hand gently across her soft shoulder, drunk on the sensation. Merle would never have allowed him to keep his own friends or especially a girl-friend anyway, not for long. He’d have shat in the well and forced him to choose and Daryl would have chosen Merle, ‘cos that’s all he’d ever known and all he’d think to do. He was damn sure that that was one thing that had changed for the better since the dead started roaming around. No fuckin’ way Daryl would let Merle drive him away from Kit. He could do his worst, go hell for leather, give it his best damn shot but Daryl would die before he’d give her up now. If Merle were alive, Daryl would be overjoyed to have his brother back but in this moment he’d also be more than happy to tell him to go fuck himself and mean it, rather than let him ruin this.

Daryl knew he’d changed for the better these past few years. He couldn’t have said it out loud. He barely dared think it to himself. Everyone around him had lost so much, had given up so much of what they’d been before. He’d lost too, he’d suffered. But he’d grown into himself too. This new world had hurt him more than every whipping his daddy ever gave him and every bar fight Merle had ever gotten them into, times a hundred. But he knew it only hurt him ‘cause it had given him something too, made him part of something. It only devastated him because having a family, one he could actually get along with without them trying to control or break him, was opening him up. Making him face himself. His demons. Making him step up and be counted, take responsibility and be relied upon by people he actually cared about and who actually respected and were pretty nice to him. This world made him vulnerable, where once he’d been impervious because he never gave a shit about nobody or nothin’.

He looked at the sleeping woman resting peacefully against his side. Her silken hair falling across her face and cascading on his shoulder. Her breath, soft and regular against his bare chest.  He knew she’d be a killer blow. He’d felt something for her, in the pit of his stomach, before they’d even arrived at that damn barn on day one. By the time those girls were safely on their way home and he was finally thinking to ask the questions, he’d already made up his mind that the group would have to let her in. If there had been an objection, he’d have fought for her. He’d have cashed in all his chips, called in every favour and they all knew they owed him in one way or another. For her he’d have ‘made’ them take her in.

He’d known it wouldn’t be that easy before he even got her over the threshold though. Within the first few hours he’d seen that she felt like a caged animal. Her dog was less than enthusiastic and she was just a reflection of Kit’s own mood. He’d realised then that she’d never planned to stay. She could survive out there on her own quite well and didn’t need to be here. Didn’t need people, any more than Daryl had before all of this. She’d brought him home, maybe just out of curiosity, Maybe she felt like she owed him that much but that’s all she’d ever planned to do. He had the day or two she’d promised and then she’d be gone.

He’d seen then that it wasn’t Rick and the others he had to convince, it really was her. She put on a decent show, she was polite and answered questions. Tried to be normal but it was an act and trying to be ‘little miss sunshine’ 24/7 would take its toll. She was tired of all the noise and the people and the curious chatter. She found it exhausting and just as fucking annoying as he would have. The only interactions she didn’t seem to balk at (to his eye) were those with the kids but even there, he could see her holding back and wanting to hold, even them, at a distance. He could see the cogs turning, excuses forming, saw her eyeing up the escape route in her mind. He couldn’t fathom why she’d stayed as long as she had already but he’d had that day’s grace, while she floundered about how to extract herself from this situation, to fix something up for her. Try and convince her it might be worth staying.

Aaron and Eric had already offered him the shed. It had running water and a wood stove with a back boiler for heating. It was more than fine for him. No power but he didn’t need any. He’d been planning to broach the subject of his moving out, with Rick, Michonne and the others. He was in no hurry, if they kicked up a fuss but he didn’t expect they would. He spent much of his free time in Aaron and Eric’s garage anyway. He was barely at the house, other than to catch a few hours shut-eye or babysit Judith when needed. He’d still be nearby when they needed him. He figured they’d be fine with it. The house was too damn crowded with a loved up couple in it anyway. They’d probably be as glad of the extra space and privacy as he would.

Aaron and Eric were a little surprised when he asked if they’d mind the new girl taking it instead but they’d had no objection to it. His arguments must’ve made a bit of sense to them and it was true that a closed in garden like theirs would be best for her dog to start with. They’d met her, they liked her, they got that she was shy of crowds and was an outsider. Like him, like them. They’d helped him clean the place out for her and Eric had pulled together some little homely touches, he’d provisioned the cupboards of the little kitchenette and even scrounged up a dog bed and a brand new bedding set from somewhere.

Daryl tried to ignore Eric’s knowing expression and feign indifference to anything other than his intention of keeping a solid, useful person in their community. He figured that wasn’t gonna fly at the time and now he dreaded the look of satisfaction when Eric realised how right he’d been about Daryl’s true feelings.

When he’d gone in search of Kit, he’d found her blankly staring at the gates. As she turned to face him at his approach, he could see that she was on the brink of a decision and if she made that decision he knew he wouldn’t like it. For the first time in his life he jumped in first, starting a conversation with a flow of words he hadn’t known he was capable of producing. He’d insisted that she come with him, showed her the place, sold it to her like some damned realtor or second hand car dealer or something.

When he broke for breath she was smiling at him. He’d hardly dared look at her the whole time, afraid to gauge her reaction but the relief in her laughing eyes told him all he needed to know. She’d stay. For now at least.

He hadn’t known what to do with himself, or her after that. He’d been so focussed on getting her to come and convincing her to stay, he hadn’t considered what to do with her now she was here. He’d gone on runs with her, taken her with him on a hunt. She was good. She was well practiced on runs, had nothing to learn there and she was an obviously experienced hunter too. She hardly needed lessons from him but when she did have something to learn, she paid close attention and learned fast. If he was honest, he’d learned as much from her as she probably had from him. Maybe not with the hunting but there was nothing she didn’t know about how best to pick clean a shop or a house and she had some practical little nuggets on walker crowd control.

She was strategic. She’d piece things together and analysed the whole. She was organised and efficient and damn if she couldn’t keep a whole mess of plates spinnin’. She was as observant and good at reading intentions as Daryl himself but she had some kind of extra woman’s instinct about human behaviours too. She’d be handy when dealing with new groups.

He’d always spent a lot of time in Aaron and Eric’s garage but now he was there almost every day, whenever he had free time. She’d hear him crashing around and bring drinks or food or if he stayed late she’d ask if he wanted to join her for dinner. He’d found himself here most evenings since she’d moved in. He told himself it was to make her feel more comfortable and welcome. He was the one she knew best, she’d feel more part of the group if she spent time with them all and he’d be the one to start the ball rolling. Once she’d made other friends and started visiting them or having them visit her, he’d stop going around so much. He knew he’d been kidding himself.

She mixed plenty during the day. Having her own shell to crawl back into meant that she felt more comfortable about spending time outside this garden, learning names and meeting those people Daryl had told her were ‘his’ people especially. He’d only really admitted his true feelings, grudgingly and only to himself, when he frequently caught himself thinking about her late at night, when he should have been sleeping. Or even worse; right out in the midday sun, while he was looking straight at her.

He’d felt like she knew things about him, without being told, from day one. Felt like she read his mind sometimes. Sometimes he thought maybe that road went both ways too but when he was caught looking right at her with moony eyes, he may as well have written his heart out for her in sky writing.

Last night he’d struggled on that porch. Worried that she didn’t feel anything for him at all, not like he did for her, anyway. Or worse, that she did feel it too and was waiting for him to make a move. He could have told her she’d be waiting forever. He’d hardly ever been able to put himself out there for a touch from a woman he didn’t give two hoots about. There was no way he was going to open himself up to a woman who had it in her power to really hurt him. Really shoot him down in flames.

She sighed and squeezed her soft silken skin against the length of his body, bringing him back to the here and now. He’d really done it now, for good and all. Here was something to lose. Something he knew beyond doubt that it would kill him if he ever did lose.

He’d given all the Governors and the Negans of the world the golden bullet that would stop him dead in his tracks. He’d willingly given his heart, body and soul to this sleeping creature in his arms and although he could kick himself for it in his head; in his heart, body and soul he just couldn’t bring himself to regret it for a second.

Chapter Text

Kit woke at the sound of whining from the other room. The dog had been shut in all night. She usually left the door ajar when she went to bed, so she could come and go as she pleased, knowing that the garden was enclosed and she’d not stray further than the fences on all sides. Somehow in all the confusion and haste last night, they’d neglected to leave a way out for the dog and she was beginning to fuss. Bringing Kit around from the first truly peaceful night’s slumber she’d had in years.

As she came to consciousness, she was acutely aware of the unconscious, naked man in her bed. Her hand resting gently on the down of his chest and her head nestled in the pillow of his shoulder. She could hear the steady, comforting thrum of his heartbeat, could smell the intoxicating salty musk of his dried sweat and remembered the shared intimacies of the night before. As she became aware of being encircled in the protective, sheltering embrace of his strong arms, a smile crept across her lips as she shifted her head slowly and looked at the face of the sleeping man at her side.

When he was awake and clothed he always seemed somehow invincible, with a gnarled toughness that couldn’t be broken. His lank thatch of chestnut hair hooded his eyes and made him unreadable, sometimes even to her. But now in peaceful repose, something she assumed was rare for him too, he seemed years younger and far more open and vulnerable than she’d ever thought him to be.

Just a man after all. Not an unattainable, armour clad, distant titan. A man. But not JUST a man. Her man… a strong beating heart, warm pliable skin and a face that looked almost boyish in sleep. High cheekbones, strong, regular features. He was almost beautiful she thought, almost delicate. The best man she’d ever known and here he was asleep by her side, at home where he belonged, in her bed.

She remembered last night with a twinge of heat rising to her cheeks, as another descended to her loins. How had she found the courage to put herself out there like that? She supposed she’d argued to herself that if he rejected her then her options were clear at least. She wasn’t yet fully invested in this community or its other inhabitants. If he wasn’t interested in her then there was really nothing to stick around for. It had almost come to that. She would have left by now if he hadn’t recovered from his ‘wobble’. She supposed really, in the end, it hadn’t been bravery on her part. The bravery had been his.

She knew some of his background and he’d let slip enough for her to realise that he’d probably never shared much more real, close, physical intimacy with anyone he cared about than she had. She guessed that caring about other people, in any real sense, was pretty new to him. She didn’t think he’d been a callous, selfish arse or anything. Just that no one had ever really cared about him, so he didn’t know where to start caring about them – just like her.

She assumed, from what she knew about his brother Merle, that Daryl had hardly been allowed to get away with showing no interest at all in the opposite sex, as she had managed to do. Merle was unlikely to tolerate a ‘fag’ for a brother and would probably not have had the subtlety to see the difference. So she was pretty sure that she hadn’t claimed Daryl’s virginity last night but she was also sure that whatever drunken bunk-ups in long ago dive bars he had known, she had at least had the pleasure of being the first woman Daryl had made love to and meant it. Really wanted it. Really felt it.

For her, the whole experience was new. Never having been brave enough to offer herself up to anyone voluntarily, after the indignities, misuse and corruption of her childhood, even just to get it over and done with. For him she knew it might as well have been his first time too. She knew instinctively that no other woman had had the Daryl Dixon she’d known last night. He had reserved all of that tenderness, gentleness and pure, raw emotion for her and her alone.

She was suddenly acutely aware of his gentle hands resting on her shoulder and hip respectively. Those hands had held her face as he’d kissed her. Had stroked the soft skin of her shoulders, breasts, waist, hips and inner thighs. They’d gripped her behind the knees and hitched her legs up by his sides as he’d gently and rhythmically eased in and out of her most private, most sensitive part. As she remembered it now, her body recalled the sensations and she felt herself moisten and ache at the thought of his body moving in harmony with her own.  

She shook herself out of her pleasant reverie with a start. The dog needed to get out and she needed to do something about that before she woke Daryl. That was the priority now. Kit gently extracted herself from his embrace. Feeling a sudden wave of loss as their bodies no longer touched.

She grabbed his shirt off the floor, where she’d flung it only hours before and buttoned it loosely, enough for modest coverage, padding quickly and silently to the door. It opened without noise and the dog didn’t make a rush to enter the room, so she pulled the door to behind her and went to open the main door out onto the porch. The dog gratefully shot past her and she noted the very first orange glow of dawn on the horizon behind the main house. She left the door ajar and returned to the bedroom, picking up a water bottle from the kitchen counter, as she passed and drinking deeply before quietly easing the door open and re-entering the bedroom.

Chapter Text

As she turned towards the room her heart leapt almost clean out of her throat. In the semi-darkness Daryl Dixon sat bolt upright, naked as the day he was born, in the centre of her rumpled bed, looking right at her. She couldn’t see his eyes in the darkness, they were no more than a hooded glint but she knew they were trained on her, as he raised his arm towards her. “Felt you go.” He growled huskily, offering her his hand.

“Dog needed letting out.” She closed the distance between them in a heartbeat and curled her fingers in his offered hand hungrily. “Should’ve known you wouldn’t sleep through it.”

He pulled her towards him, to join him on the bed and she offered him the water bottle with her free hand. He took it gratefully and took a long pull. She could see his features more clearly now. His eyes never left her. She felt trapped in his gaze, like the game in one of his hunts. But it was not at all unpleasant to be Daryl Dixon’s sole focus. The shiver down her spine at being his helpless prey was not at all unwelcome.

She took the bottle back and put it aside as he reached for the buttons of his own shirt and freeing them deftly, he removed the unwanted fabric from her frame and discarded it back on the floor. She was shocked to find that she wasn’t bashful about her nudity, or his, as she had been when he’d stripped her last night. He knew her body more intimately than anyone else ever had or ever would again. It was as much his now as it was hers and she couldn’t hide from his gaze and didn’t even want to. As she’d turned to free an arm he’d caught sight of her back in the weak morning light and when she was naked again he moved into a kneeling position to better examine her.

“Oh.” She thought, as he began to trace the pattern with his quick, gentle fingers. “The tattoo!” She’d almost forgotten it was even there after all these years.

A giant pair of unfurled firebird’s wings had graced the lion’s portion of her back for the best part of 20 years now. She’d had an urge to mark her freedom somehow, once she’d got out of care and got herself her first decent job and a place of her own. It had taken a year or so to settle on a design and a further year and a half of finding the right artist, saving up and having the various sittings it had taken to complete her work of art.

She had loved them.  They had seemed like a mission statement to her. Like a phoenix rising from the ashes, she’d never look back; never allow her shitty past to hold her back again.

She’d berated herself a little over the years for not really living up to that ideal in all aspects of her life and continuing to keep people at a safe distance. Caring, to an extent but no further than friendships and even those, only of the quick, disposable kind. But here she was, after all these years, in the arms of a man she’d known for just a little over two weeks and now couldn’t imagine her life without. Here she was, having her wings inspected with his gentle fingers, his lips, his tongue. The jacket, emblazoned with his own wings, in a crumpled heap by the bed, where she’d torn it from his back the night before.

 She shocked herself when she realised that she hadn’t just been thinking about the story but had been speaking it aloud. She hadn’t been conscious of sharing these thoughts, her inner monologue had become their shared language. “Mmmh” he breathed into her shoulder blade, sending chills through her whole being. “It’s beautiful.” He turned her towards him on the bed and she wanted to say “You’re beautiful.” As she found herself, once again, caught in his piercing gaze. “You’re beautiful!” he said matter-of-factly as he leant down to catch her lips in his own. She allowed herself a little laughing escape of breath at that and returned his kiss with rising passion.

“Tell me about yours?” she asked in a breathless whisper, as they broke for air. She knew he had a couple of tattoos at least. She’d seen the one on the inside of his right bicep often enough and spied the old green ink of another poking through the arm hole of his shirt as he moved. He shrugged. “Same kind of thing with the first ones.” He said, “The ones on my back were ways for me to reclaim my own skin I guess. I marked the parts my dad hadn’t gotten to myself. He turned to show her. The scars of his childhood, livid against his milky skin, in the pale morning light.

She traced the pattern of the tattoos with her own gentle fingers, as he had done with hers. But for the scars, her lips seemed a better choice. She kissed each blemish softly, allowing her tongue to trace the lines of the whip marks, breathing gently against the soft pliable skin of his strong, straight back. “You are the strongest, most beautiful creature I’ve ever met in my life Daryl Dixon!” She breathed against his broad shoulder.

He had frozen, like a statue, from the first touch of her fingers on his back and had remained locked in startled stillness until she uttered those words. He turned to face her, bringing his rough hands up to gently frame her face. He looked right into her soul through the portals of her grey-blue eyes and said honestly and simply “I love you.”

He’d shocked himself with the words he hadn’t spoken to a living soul since well before his mother died but he saw on her face that it was nothing to the effect his words had had on her. She must have known, he thought. She must have guessed that he couldn’t have given himself to her, so completely, without loving her. That only the deepest, most uncontrollable love could explain how he’d reacted to her touch last night, responded to her offered kiss, caused him to throw caution to the wind and overcome his own cowardice, to come back home to her arms and take her to bed.

She knew, he realised, she just hadn’t expected him to say it. To admit his feelings to her. He couldn’t blame her, he hadn’t expected that himself.

With a soft smile creeping into his eyes, he realised with soaring confidence that she was shocked as well because she loved him too and had expected to have to be the first to say it. As she’d been the first to betray her feelings last night.

As he leant forward to kiss her beautiful, brave, luscious mouth, she exhaled the words he didn't need to hear but longed to none the less. “I love you.” She whispered, for the first time ever in her whole life, as he pressed his lips to hers and lay her down gently on what he’d decided would, from now on, be THEIR bed, in THEIR home.

Chapter Text

He’d noticed the dog padding around by the patio door when he’d gone down to the kitchen for water. It was only just getting light outside and he and Aaron still had a couple of hours before they needed to be up and getting on with the day.

Eric was glad to see her. She meant that Kit was still here, He breathed a sigh of relief. His worry that she would be gone when they came down in the morning was half the reason he’d had such a fitful night’s sleep. Aaron could sleep upside down in the middle of a hurricane but Eric was much more of a worrier and had really been petrified that the scene he’d witnessed last night would spell the end of Kit’s time in Alexandria.

But there she was and she meant that there was still a chance for Daryl to see the error of his ways and make it up to Kit for last night.

He’d witnessed the closing stages of their ‘make-out session’ on the porch. The kitchen window hadn’t been the best angle to see them from but he’d known that Daryl was probably over at Kit’s for dinner again and as he switched off the kitchen light he’d caught a glimpse of something different about the shadowed shapes on Kit’s porch. He’d called Aaron over excitedly, to the patio door in the dining room, turning off the lights as he went.

Both men adored Daryl. He was the absolute opposite of a redneck, as far as they were concerned. His views weren’t entrenched or narrow. Daryl took everyone as he found them and judged them, not by what they were perceived by others to be, what labels they wore or what boxes they fell into but by what they did and who they really were. Aaron’s first impression of Daryl had been what drove him to approach his group and offer them a home in Alexandria. A group where even the obvious outsider, the solitary hunter, would give everything for the group, was a group worth looking at. Outsiders, especially the kind who would actually probably be just fine on their own, only invested that kind of loyalty in people, in communities, of worth. Daryl had silently told Aaron that these were ‘good people’.

Back in Alexandria, they’d both taken an instant liking to him. Seeing him as an outsider, like themselves; accepted and respected for the contribution they all made to the community but not quite embraced as ‘one of us’ by the middle-Americans they found around them. They had wanted to take him under their wing, to an extent, to give him a safe haven for when the white picket fences of Alexandria wore on him too heavily.

It was always good to hear Daryl banging and crashing around in the garage, working on his bike or fixing up one of the cars. Knowing he was in his element, as happy as Eric imagined a ‘Daryl’ could be in this place. He liked to take him a drink or a snack, let him know he was nearby if Daryl needed anything and then disappear back into the house to give him his own space.

Eric would always be glad that they’d brought the whole group back to Alexandria. God knows what would have happened to them all if Rick’s group hadn’t been there for the Wolves’ invasion, or the herd breaching the walls and how on earth they would ever have survived the Saviours and Negan, he didn’t dare think about.

But Eric’s gratitude would always sit most squarely with Daryl. Daryl- who had relieved him of so much worry whenever Aaron left the gates. He usually went out with Daryl and Eric knew that if Daryl was with him they would either both come back safe, together, or not at all. Daryl would not leave Aaron out there alone and he’d die before he’d let anything happen to Eric’s beloved partner.

Daryl would always put himself on the line, before everyone else. It was a worry to everyone who loved him but Daryl just didn’t seem to care enough about his own safety, his own life, to measure himself against anyone else and judge them of lesser worth. If the other person had family, or a loved-one they were worth ten Daryl Dixons. That was how he saw it and how he approached every hazardous situation. Aaron had told him, explaining that it broke his heart to see such a good, capable, honourable and ultimately pure-hearted person think so little of themselves and of their own value to the group.

Eric had agreed that it was sad and meant it but he’d also been secretly relieved that Daryl would consider Aaron more important than himself on their runs. He knew that with a bodyguard like Daryl Aaron’s chances of survival were immeasurably improved.

So both men had been beside themselves with joy to see Daryl entwined with their new neighbor.

Kit was very like Daryl in many ways. She was also a natural loner and seemingly didn’t consider herself much of any worth either. She certainly was worth something though. She was worth a lot. She’d proved herself more than capable on runs, she and Daryl had provided the whole town with fresh meat twice this week, with their hunts and Michonne and Glenn’s reports to Rick had been nothing but glowing. As far as everyone was concerned they wanted her to stay but she was still unsure of herself. Unsure how she’d fit in among so many strangers, who’d been through so much together.

Aside from her practical usefulness, Eric had really begun to like her and especially to have her and the dog as neighbours. She was easy to talk to, when you had her one-on-one and weren’t pressuring or quizzing her with questions and tests. She had such a broad range of knowledge on so many topics, due to her extensive travel and varied work experience. She was by far the most interesting person in the town to talk to (with the exception of Aaron of course). She could be funny when she was relaxed and her humour was dry and self-depreciating but also invariably on the nose. Eric found her to be a very perceptive judge of character and often caught her carefully choosing her tone or her words for specific people and specific situations. It would make her useful in no end of roles within the community but it also made her an ideal dinner party guest.

On her first night in the summer home, after they’d moved her in, Eric had invited she and Daryl to join he and Aaron in the main house for dinner. He’d thought that one or both of them might refuse, thinking they were being set-up and balking at being ‘managed’. It quickly became apparent that neither of them had had a clue that the invitation had been for any other reason than their being nearby when Eric happened to be cooking. A neighbourly gesture.

They’d all spent a companionable meal together, chatting, swapping stories, getting to know Kit and letting her get to know them. She and Daryl hardly seemed to speak to each other but they’d hardly seemed to need to. They’d shared the narrative of what they’d got up to in Garvey before Kit brought Daryl home and finished each other’s sentences when they were relaying hunting stories. Neither of them had seemed aware of it.

He kind of loved them both more for their utter cluelessness but he was also utterly exasperated to see that his attempts at match making were falling on completely unconscious subjects. He’d persist, of course but it would certainly be more of a long-term project to get them both thinking outside ‘the friend-zone’.

He’d seen Carol leave two nights ago and saw Kit sobbing a little later. He’d gone over, to see what comfort he could provide but he’d been told, in no uncertain terms, that she wanted some time to herself. He’d considered going to find Daryl and giving him the opportunity to provide one of his ample shoulders for her to cry on. But he’d thought better of it. Knowing Daryl, he might take the news that Carol had upset his new best friend the wrong way and go in search of the instigator, to ‘tear her a new one’, rather than rush to console and comfort Kit.

He and Aaron had watched, like a pair of perverts, spying on a couple of hot ‘n’ heavy teenagers for a few minutes before they looked at each other and realized what they were doing. “We should errr….” Aaron began, looking uncomfortable.

“Yeah…. right.” Eric agreed, stepping forward to pull the blinds, just as movement on the porch caught both of their attention.

They watched in horror as Daryl, emotional fuck-wit that he was, walked off, leaving Kit in shock on the porch. No fight. No reason. Just Daryl. Probably in pure terror at the strength of his own emotions and doubtless, having no idea what to do with them, or her. “That is all…. Daryl out!” Eric found himself projecting thoughts on to the infuriating man’s receding back. Trying to make sense of what was going through that crazy head of his.

He and Aaron had exchanged a look of despair at this turn of events but there was nothing to be done about it. Kit wouldn’t appreciate their interference right now, any more than she had the day before with Carol. She’d be mortified if she had a clue they’d witnessed any of what just happened. And there was no question of talking to Daryl about this now either. He was probably off punching a wall somewhere already.  

They’d just have to hope she was still there in the morning and do their best to be supportive then. They’d headed off to bed with heavy hearts, cursing Daryl and his adolescent emotions.

And there was the dog. So Kit was still here at least. There was still some hope.

Eric stepped outside to pop his head round the corner and make sure that the gate was closed and Kit’s door was open for the dog, before he went back to bed. However, as he looked around the side of the summer house to confirm the open door. Something caught his attention.

Was that Kit? Was she crying? Was she in pain? It didn’t sound like crying, it was a guttural sound, like a half formed, strangled scream. Maybe she was having a nightmare? He moved further around to get a better view through her glass doors. He hoped to catch sight of her without necessarily letting her know he was there. He wanted to be able to help her if she needed it but if this was just her particular brand of ‘ugly crying’ then he’d leave her to it and let her ‘get it out’.

She was getting it out alright!!! Eric couldn’t quite process what he was seeing. He stood motionless in the garden like a statue, frozen to the spot with his jaw hanging agog.

Kit lay naked with her legs spread at the end of her big bed and Daryl fucking Dixon’s head bobbing rhythmically between her thighs. Her cries were the pure unadulterated moans of sexual pleasure, as she came apart before his eyes.

As Eric watched, mezmerised, Daryl worked his way up Kit’s body. Kissing, licking, sucking, tenderly stroking her as he went and always with as much skin-on-skin contact between her body and his equally nakedness as he could manage.

As Kit recovered from her climax, Daryl picked her up off the bed like a rag doll and moved her where he wanted her. She seemed hardly present as he bent her to his will, positioning her against the headboard, legs around his hips. She gave herself up to him uncomplainingly as Daryl thrust his manhood deep inside her. She betrayed nothing but joy at the rough treatment she was receiving, being rammed against the headboard by the big, strong, rough man in her arms.

It slowly dawned on Eric, as Daryl set a furious rhythm, that this was not their first rodeo (so to speak). Daryl must have come back last night, after he and Aaron had gone to bed. Had he been fucking her senseless like this all night?

Fucking the poor girl senseless certainly seemed to be the aim of the game now. He’d never seen anything like it. Didn’t know that a woman, especially a relatively small one like Kit, could take that level of rutting, with a smile.

Then it happened. As Daryl ploughed Kit hard against the wall, he paused her punishment for a moment to breathe her in. He framed her face tenderly with his hand and gazed directly into her eyes. That look, the smile they shared, the soul-crushing intimacy of that moment, told Eric everything he needed to know about their relationship. It was love.

He knew that everyone in Alexandria had noticed the fast-friendship and singular connection that Daryl shared with the new girl. He wasn’t the only one pulling for the two of them to pull themselves together (literally) and ‘get it on’. He’d had some very odd conversations about it with Tara, Maggie and even a little with Glenn and Carol.

But weirdly he’d never really thought about love. Really, he’d just wanted to see Daryl get laid (although he hadn’t ever expected he would actually SEE it). The poor guy had seemed like he needed it for as long as Eric had known him. Kit seemed to fit the bill and she was wound pretty tight too, she probably needed the release as much as Daryl did. He’d thought it would do them both good, relieve some tension and make everyone else’s hearts happy, to see their favourite redneck getting the thick end of the wedge for once. Maybe over time, scratching an itch would lead to a relationship. Maybe they’d be a couple but that hadn’t been Eric’s first priority in getting them together.

Now he saw it though. There it was, clear as day. These two damaged people, with the purest souls, had found each other, not just for sex, or to console each other for a few minutes. They would be each other’s salvation. Each other’s therapy. Daryl had really always needed THIS. He’d always needed HER. He needed the unconditional, uncompromising love that she brought and that which she was pulling out of him. Neither of them were the ‘fuck-‘em and leave ‘em’ type. They were a pair of doves and this was their imprinting.

Eric realized with sudden sadness, that he’d never REALLY seen Daryl happy. He’d seen him smile, that wry, jaded, half-smile he allowed himself sometimes but nothing like the warm, enveloping gaze he was directing at Kit. At the same time, she was bathing him in her own glowing flood of adoration. He’d never seen her eyes light up this way, even when she and Aaron really got into swapping travel stories. She’d beamed, she’d laughed and Eric was sure she’d been genuinely enjoying the interaction but this was a different level. This face belonged to a different woman. This face was reserved just for Daryl and the face Daryl wore in this moment, the one that made him seem years younger and without a care in the world, that face was just for Kit.

Eric snapped out of his daze with a rush of guilt. He was trespassing here. He was witnessing something truly primal and private, meant just for the two of them. It was something new and raw and beautiful, that they were still exploring and discovering for themselves. He shouldn’t be here.

As Kit pushed Daryl backwards onto the bed and straddled him with a peel of joyous laughter, ducking low to collect a kiss before riding him like a prize pony, Eric tore his eyes away to return to the house.

The dog sat by the kitchen door, as Eric approached her on shaky legs, with a “Now you see what I have to put up with.” look on her face. Eric was probably projecting thoughts onto the dog, as he’d done with Daryl the night before but he took pity on her. He let her in so he could give her some of the kibble they were storing for Kit.

Having seen to the dog’s needs and retrieving his glass of water, Eric returned to his bedroom with a big dopey grin on his face.

There was absolutely no question of his keeping Kit and Daryl’s secret to himself. He would, of course, have to bite his tongue around town until they made their new status public. In the meantime though, no one could expect him not to share the news with Aaron.

Aaron grumbled lightly as Eric climbed under the covers but to Eric’s mild annoyance, he didn’t wake. There was no way Eric could hold this in until the alarm went off. He bounced roughly on the mattress, settling his face to a look of innocence as his partner woke groggily and looked around for the fire.

“What the?….Eric?” he mumbled, noticing his lover’s expression.

Eric could contain himself no longer. “You will absolutely NEVER guess what I just saw!”

Chapter Text

“You think they actually imagine they’re fooling anyone?” Maggie smiled as she climbed in the car with Glenn.

“Hah,” her husband shook his head and goodnaturedly smiled at the thought “you know what, I don’t think it matters. They’re not ready for us to quiz them and be all up in their business…”

“Pffft.” Maggie laughed “all up in their business?.....seriously?” She shook her head at him, loving him to pieces but laughing her ass off at his ‘street’ attempt.

“Yeah, well you know… whatever. They’re not ready to go public yet. We should let them have some time. Not like anyone gets much privacy in Alexandria and those two need theirs more than most I’d say.”

“You’re too good for this world husband of mine.” Maggie smiled at him, reaching across to touch his cheek as he drove. “Don’t recall Daryl ever being over concerned for our privacy.”

“Hah.” Glenn had to accept her point. Daryl had hardly been delicate of their feelings whenever he’d caught them in compromising situations. Although, to be fair, he and Kit weren’t making out in a tiny guard-tower visible to the whole community in broad daylight. The change in their relationship may have been obvious, to those who were paying attention but no one could claim to have actually seen them getting intimate. It was still entirely possible that they were just both in suddenly really good moods. “Well, whatever they’re up to behind closed doors, I think they’re trying to be pretty subtle about it and Kit never embarrassed us, even if Daryl did.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I ain’t sayin’ we should call ‘em out. It’s actually pretty nice to see Daryl so light-hearted for a change. It’s bin a while.” They both nodded at that, it WAS good to see a glimmer of the energy and humour that ‘old Daryl’ had once exhibited. No one would ever claim that he had been a real joker or the life and soul of any kind of party but they had to admit he’d had a dry wit back then. Daryl had cracked the whole group up more than once with a well placed one-liner. Even if some of them had been at their expense.

Maggie might wish she could go back in time and wipe the wise-ass grin off THAT Daryl’s face but present Daryl was a different kettle of fish altogether. And Glenn was right – Kit didn’t deserve to be embarrassed. It was still too early-days in all of their relationships with her to push her like that. She was obviously a pretty sensitive, private person and it wasn’t worth the risk of humiliating and alienating her from the group and having her run for the hills and break Daryl’s, obviously smitten, heart.

She realized with a start that if that happened, there was no guarantee that Daryl would actually choose to stay with the group rather than go with her. It wasn’t like Daryl wasn’t perfectly capable of living out in the world on his own too. And then there was the fact that Kit had been in Alexandria less than two weeks but already Maggie couldn’t imagine how they would function separately, rather than as this cute little joined-at-the-hip double-act they had going.

No, no one was going to ruin this for Daryl. He'd given too much of himself for each and every one of them. He deserved some happiness and Kit was a great addition to the community and – hopefully, when they finally made their relationship a ‘thing’ – the ‘core family’ too.

“How much you wanna bet they manage to maneuver it so they’re both ‘stuck’ squashed together in the back of that station wagon at some point?” Maggie asked playfully.

“Oh no, I’m not taking that bet. Not that I’d ever bet against you anyway, after last time but that one’s a no-brainer.” Glenn smiled back at her. Reaching over to place a hand gently on her belly he added “not that I blame them, if someone else would drive this thing for me, I’d be happy to scooch up in the back with you.” 

“Awww, now I remember why I married you.” She purred, lacing her fingers in his on her belly “you do say the sweetest things.”

-------------------------

Aaron was deeply uncomfortable. He wasn’t sure quite how he’d managed to end up as the third wheel in this car but he certainly regretted not choosing to be the third wheel in Maggie and Glenn’s vehicle instead.

It wasn’t that either Kit or Daryl seemed to resent his presence, in fact Kit seemed pretty chatty and Daryl was enjoying playing DJ. It was just…. It was just all so obvious but still so ‘undisclosed’. Aaron didn’t like that. He prided himself on being a straight-forward honest person and any kind of deception made him uncomfortable. It was too reminiscent of how he’d felt as a teenager, before he’d found the courage to ‘come out’ to his family.

He understood that Daryl and Kit were very private people and that they were still such a new, fledgling thing. They were still getting to know each other, still learning how to be with one another in private. How could he expect them to announce their relationship openly to the world and deal with whatever questions and comments that might engender? He couldn’t. He didn’t.

It was crazy really. Actually very similar to his ‘coming out’ when he thought about it. It’s not like the WHOLE of Daryl’s family group wouldn’t have already guessed that the two of them had progressed in their little ‘friendship’. They’d been careful not to be any more physical with each other in public than they had been before and Daryl had always spent lots of time at her place, since she’d arrived. And of course he’d always spent lots of time at their garage – right next to her place – even before Kit had arrived on the scene. There was no ‘proof’, as far as any of them knew, that there was anything new going on. But a weight had lifted in them both. Whatever baggage had been dragging them down in their previous lives, their new, shared life was lightening the load and that was obvious enough to anyone who cared about either of them.

The only two people in Alexandria who knew for sure, that Daryl and Kit were an item, were himself and Eric. Even if they hadn’t witnessed the little make-out session on Kit’s porch, even if Eric hadn’t got an eyeful the following morning – the details of which he had relayed in full, repeatedly, even when Aaron begged him not to – it would have been unlikely that the new couple could have kept their status secret from their closest neighbours. They shared a garden for goodness-sake.

That was what was making him most uncomfortable, he realized. They MUST both be aware that he and Eric knew? They were careful about Daryl arriving at the same kind of time he always had and he usually snuck out via the garage, so that anyone who saw him leave in the morning would just think he’d been working on his bike. But they must know that that ruse wasn’t going to convince the two people they shared a garden with. The garage was ATTACHED to the house and they’d therefore be able to hear if Daryl was in there working on his bike, rather than just sneaking in the garden entrance and out via the roller door to hide what he’d really been up to.

Aaron was pretty certain that Daryl hadn’t touched his bike at all in almost a week. He certainly hadn’t been near it – other than walking past it to the other door – in the last three days. He'd no doubt pay the machine some attention when he needed to but for now ... Daryl had a new toy.

He’d caught sight of them himself twice in the past couple of days. Once, as he was pouring over maps in the office upstairs, early one morning. He’d looked out on the garden and caught a glimpse of Kit sitting in Daryl’s lap, on her sofa, sharing a bowl of oatmeal. They were chatting happily, smiling often, Daryl stroking Kit’s back and arm and Kit planting soft kisses on his cheek as they fed each other with the same spoon. And THIS morning he’d looked out, while making coffee in the kitchen, to see them kissing goodbye - for the half-hour they’d be apart before this very road-trip- right next to the garage door. There had been no mistaking that kiss for a friendly, platonic peck.

And if they honestly thought they were keeping ANYTHING from Eric they were insane.

Aaron could barely look either of them in the eye after his partner had recounted what he’d seen through Kit’s bedroom door. He wondered if his own imagination was somehow even more vivid than the real thing because Eric seemed to have no problems. He actively sought Kit out as often as possible and had decided to make her his new best friend in town.

Aaron was glad that Kit seemed up for that. She obviously liked Eric and found some of his little ‘eccentricities’ more charming and acceptable than a lot of the middle-class, ‘white-breads’ in Alexandria. She’d seen a lot of the world. Met a lot of different types of people and accepted and liked people for who they were. Aaron was glad Daryl had found her. Not JUST for Daryl’s sake, or hers but for Eric’s and his own too. Their little sub-group of ‘outsiders’ had grown by a quarter as a result.

He just wished they’d hurry up and hold hands in public or something, so he could stop metaphorically holding his breath around them. And so Eric could good-naturedly probe Kit, as Aaron knew he was desperate to do. For now, he was stuck in the car with two people who'd much rather be alone, or at least cuddled up in the back together and one enormous dog.

Chapter Text

Looking out from the highest window in the house, cup of coffee in hand and nowhere to be at just this moment; Paul found a rare moment of pure enjoyment. He felt lucky to live here, lucky to be a custodian of this house and the community that had grown up around it. He felt like a knight in a castle and for once there was genuine peace for this strong-hold. He could imagine himself to truly be the master of all he surveyed.

It may not last. There may be others out there, like Negan, who wanted what they had and felt no shame in killing to get it. But for now there was peace and he was glad of it. This community sorely needed it, to lick its wounds and heel itself. However long this spell lasted, they’d take it gratefully.

Even peaceful times held their own dangers in this world though. What happened to Clara and Wendy shouldn’t have been possible. They should all know better than to let their guards down like that for a second outside these walls. Complacency wasn’t an option in any circumstances these days and things would have to be a little more organized and a little less blasé around here from now on.

He’d taken up the mantel and it was time to stop being everyone’s buddy and really lead. He didn’t want to. It didn’t come naturally to think of himself as some kind of authority figure but it was obvious there was no one else, at Hilltop, up to the job. He was simply the most capable leader they had. He might not want the job but he knew he COULD do it and everyone else accepted that too. So…. Here he was. Joy!

And there were the Alexandrians. “Could the day get any better?” he scoffed to himself.

No, that wasn’t fair. On the whole, they were valuable allies and good neighbours. They may be a little intense sometimes and volatile at others but at least they weren’t outright selfish, villainous, evil bastards. No – they were just people, trying to survive in a shitty world. Some of them had had it pretty easy for the first couple of years and some of them had had it a hell of a lot harder than most but they’d all shared the more recent hard times together and that bonded them all. And it bonded them to Hilltop too. They’d only made it through by working together after all.

In the old world, they used to say that you could choose your friends but you couldn’t choose your family. In this world, hardly anyone had any blood relations left anymore. Those you fought alongside against a common foe, those you bled with and grieved with; chosen or not, those were your friends, your family, your kin. For better or worse, those were the people you were stuck with, as individuals and as communities. They were your whole universe and you’d better learn to get along.

In the spirit of friendship, he’d sent Alan and Graham out on their long run a week ago, via Alexandria, to warn them that there was a bug going around Hilltop. It was nothing serious, no one had died but Maggie was always the lead on these trade visits and a woman in the late stages of pregnancy shouldn’t be exposed to that kind of risk if it could be helped. It had been the neighbourly thing to do. The boys had been instructed to tell them to allow an extra week for the bug to work itself out. And here they were, exactly a week after the planned visit.

Maggie would be itching for a visit to the doc. He expected Glenn would be with her, the expectant father was rarely away from his wife’s side these days and Paul assumed that instinct would only increase until the birth and then further redouble itself after. He smiled to himself, looking forward to the day when he’d meet the newest member of the Rhee family.

Most likely Daryl would also be among the visitors today. His visits were more rare but he was certainly no stranger here. Paul expected the usual flutter of interest, from the usual suspects, at his arrival. It entertained him no-end that Daryl was completely oblivious to the effect he had on a hand-full of the Hilltop ladies (and – he suspected – one or two of the men too). A couple of his admirers were older ladies, who’d no doubt love to take some care of the scruffy “young man” with the heart of gold. The rest would also like to take care of him but weren’t all that interested in cleaning him up or the caliber of his heart.

Paul just liked to get on Daryl’s nerves. He didn’t quite know why the scruffy redneck brought out the irritating little boy in him but to Paul, there were few things in life better than niggling Daryl Dixon and getting away with it. Aside from this bizarre and he was happy to admit, completely childish compunction, Paul liked Daryl well enough. He was definitely honest, brutally so at times and there was no side to him. He might be a sneaky fucker on a hunt but he certainly wasn’t when dealing with humans. That was a huge plus, as far as Paul was concerned. He disliked not knowing what people were thinking and with Daryl that was rare indeed. Most of the time the man was an open book to anyone who ‘got’ him.

It was going to be a tough pill to swallow to have to shake the guy’s hand and be all grateful and nice to his face. But Paul had already decided that he’d have to shelve his pride and lay off the Daryl-baiting, for this visit at least. To be honest he was happy to do it. The guy had almost single handedly rescued two of his people from a truly awful fate.

He hadn’t HAD to do it. He could have walked off and left Ryan and Alex to figure out what to do for themselves. By all accounts, Daryl had been in pretty bad shape himself at the time and no one would have blamed him for not involving himself in their drama. Certainly no one could expect him to do what he did. If he had stepped back, Clara and Wendy would have wished they were dead long before they actually were and they’d have been cold in the ground or long-since turned to walkers by now. If he’d done that, Paul had to admit, it would have been totally out of character for the man he knew. He might love driving the guy nuts but he was kind of with the little old ladies, as far as Daryl was concerned. He might hide it under a supremely gruff exterior but the guy was a genuine honest-to-god, selfless sweetheart and Paul might enjoy winding him up but he had a bit of a soft-spot for the guy too.

No, Paul would have to put on his big-boy pants and play nice today.

Something about this picture was odd though. Two cars? Why two? They were both large enough for a routine trade individually, even with two or three passengers and the driver. Either they’d brought more than the routine items for trade or there were more than three or four of them. Interesting.

Paul swung his legs back over the window sill into the room. Good interesting or bad interesting, he pondered looking back over his shoulder as the two vehicles crested the brow of the hill and approached the gates. He pulled the door open and thought he’d best go and find out, taking the stairs three or four at a time in his haste.

-------------------

Good interesting. Absolutely, definitely, without question, good interesting.

Glenn and Maggie had been in the lead car and were met by Eddie, as Paul walked over from the house. The first person out of the following vehicle was Aaron, who emerged from the back and was a welcome sight. Then Daryl got out of the driver’s side. He briefly wondered who was on the passenger side and then the dog scrabbled out of the driver’s door after him. Paul knew that dog.

He’d run into Kit and the dog two or three months ago now, not long after Negan’s reign had fallen and the surrounding area had suddenly become a little safer for a lone female. A little!

Paul was cautious and approached her stealthily but he needn’t have bothered. The dog had been shadowing his movements as he’d shadowed hers. As he made himself known to Kit, she’d seemed totally unsurprised and he found out why, when she nodded behind him and he turned to see the dog on a nearby dumpster, teeth bared, ready to pounce at her command. Noone snuck up on Kit and that dog.

He’d been impressed by Kit from the first meeting. Had offered her a home at Hilltop, right then and there. She’d refused, of course. He’d thought she was a little crazy at first but it had slowly dawned on him, during the ensuing trade visits she made and meetings outside the gates, that she was actually just completely self-sufficient and a little wary of big group dynamics. She was so capable on her own and so completely un-interested in stupid humans and their politics and dramas. She was a loner, pure and simple.

It had been no accident that she’d wandered into this area after Negan’s fall. She must have been a fucking super-spy or something in her previous life. Paul was certain she hadn’t set foot anywhere visible EVER, since the world fell to the dead, without checking the entire vicinity out thoroughly in advance. After the first few encounters with Kit, Paul had definitely stopped worrying so much for her and started worrying a little more for any stupid assholes that tried to take her on. He’d still made the offer at every available opportunity but never really expected she’d take it.

When Clara and Wendy had returned with their tale of Daryl’s ‘daring do’, the part that had most surprised him was that Kit had been there too and that the two of them had not only been working as an effective team but that Kit had used Daryl’s bow and Daryl had used Kit’s assault riffle. They had trusted each other enough, on first meeting, to switch weapons. The girls had had no idea of the significance of the information but knowing the reserved natures of both involved, it had been mind-blowing to Paul.

Kit knew about all of the main players from Alexandria, Paul had been the one to tell her. He’d fleetingly worried that he might be giving her to the competition, at the time. It wasn’t just Hilltop she shunned though, she didn’t seem like she was looking for any kind of group and none of the other nearby communities seemed to interest her much. She just needed as much reliable information about people she might run into as she could get, that was all. He understood that and she’d always been happy to return the favour, whenever there was information or intel about other groups or foraging opportunities that might be of interest to him.

From what Ryan and Alex had said, it had seemed like they’d left Daryl completely alone in his pursuit of the girls though and neither Kit, nor the Alexandrians had ever made any mention of knowing each other. So Kit and Daryl doing a ‘Bonnie and Clyde’ job on the assholes that kidnapped the girls TOGETHER, less than an hour after the girls had been taken, had seemed rather a stretch. Especially for the two people he knew who were least likely to randomly team up with a stranger.

It had been almost a full three weeks since that day in Garvey. And there was Kit’s dog, following Daryl out of the car. Kit’s dog, listening and obeying Daryl’s command to ‘stay’ and ‘sit’. And there was Daryl opening the back door. Taking a big bag from the person in the back and reaching his hand out to help her out of the car. Kit.

Had Daryl charmed her into accepting an offer to join Alexandria? No, no, not possible. The word ‘Charm’ and Daryl Dixon did not belong in the same zipcode, never mind sentence. He might attract a few ‘fans’ unconsciously, just by being his own introverted, quirky, mysterious self, but Daryl couldn’t intentionally charm his way out of a paper bag. Something was weird here. This needed investigating. This was very fucking interesting indeed. 

“Maggie! Glenn!” Paul smiled and offered his hand to Glenn and a hug to Maggie. “So good to see you, I’m glad you got the message and sorry about the necessary delay.”

“No problem, thanks for the warning.” Glenn was genuinely grateful that Jesus had been thoughtful enough to keep Maggie and their child out of harm’s way.

“Was it bad?” Maggie asked, worriedly “We brought some extra medical supplies in case you need ‘em?”

“Oh, thank you but no, no we’re actually fine for supplies. It just had to work its way through us. It wasn’t life-threatening, just unpleasant.” He reassured them “We’re low on toilet roll and electrolyte drinks if you have any of those?” he added with a grin.

“Hah... I see!” Glenn and Maggie laughed, relieved that the sickness hadn’t been as devastating as it could have been. Such bugs weren’t anything to laugh at really, as they knew from experience. One death of the flu could lead to a mass Walker outbreak in one night. Jesus knew that as well as they did though. The past couple of weeks would have been more tense than he was letting on but it was like him to make light of it, now that the danger had passed.

 “Aaron, good to see you.” He shook the man’s hand warmly.

Kit and Daryl approached the little knot of hand shakers and huggers warily and Paul fleetingly considered the relative merits of forcing them both into a group hug. He put the amusing idea aside, not entirely sure which of this prickly pair would hit him first if he tried it.

“And our heroes.” He beamed, settling on raising his arms in a virtual hug instead. “Honestly guys, I can’t believe how lucky we were that you were there for Clara and Wendy like that. We can’t thank either of  you enough and needless to say, if there’s ever anything we can do for you in return, you only need ask.” He tentatively held out a hand to Daryl first and then Kit. Both took it, both shook. Daryl warily, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Kit with an embarrassed, dismissive shake of the head.

“Anyone would have done the same Paul.” He gave her a little smile at that. He always introduced himself the same way to everyone. Full name and the offer to use his nickname if they preferred. Everyone used the nickname. Everyone but Kit. He’d asked her why once and she’d said if he didn’t want anyone to call him by his real name he wouldn’t introduce himself as Paul first and ‘Jesus’ second. He supposed she was right. It was nice to hear the name his mother had used sometimes.

“I doubt that but even if they tried, you two crazies are the only people on earth that I could imagine pulling that shit off without a scratch.” He offered Daryl the smile too but just couldn’t resist adding “Except myself of course.”

Paul kicked himself a little for not being able to resist undermining his own praise with a little niggle at Daryl but he was surprised to find that the scruffy redneck didn’t take the bait anyway. Usually a comment like that would have ruffled his feathers a little but not today, not even a grunt. In fact…. Daryl wasn’t actually looking all that scruffy today either.

For the next few minutes, the topic was trade and pretty routine stuff at that. Ben was the expert on stores and Paul let him and Eddie take the lead as he took a moment to observe proceedings. He didn’t quite know how this had happened but those few minutes of observation had confirmed that Kit and Daryl were somehow a ‘thing’. He was positive.

The burly redneck would have bristled at SOMETHING by now, under normal circumstances but he seemed pretty chilled, pretty damned zen for Daryl. It wasn’t an act either, he wouldn’t know how. He was calm. Relaxed. It was extremely unnerving.

Similarly, Paul had never seen Kit so comfortable surrounded by people. Somehow, proximity to each other was evening out their anxious, prickly little personality kinks. She usually managed a civil conversation and it hadn’t been the first time he’d shaken her hand but he’d never helped Kit out of a car or put his hand on her back to steer her first through a door, or pulled a chair out for her, or poured her a water first before pouring one for himself. He’d never stood so close to her that they could have comfortably held hands if they’d wanted. He’d never sat next to her with his knee brushing her thigh. Daryl did every single one of those things, seemingly completely unconsciously, in the space of ten minutes and Kit never batted an eye. Even though he saw her subtly but clearly brace herself for contact when the girls, Clara and Wendy, burst in to greet her, having just discovered that she and Daryl were in camp.

The girls restricted themselves to hugging Kit but they both beamed gratefully at Daryl too and Paul was rather surprised to see him reach out to tentatively pat both girls, with some genuine warmth.

“S’good to see you girls.” He said, simply “We bin worryin’ ‘bout ya, with this talk of sickness and all.”

“Yeah, couldn’t wait to get here and make sure you were OK.” Kit added, subtly extracting herself from their embrace and moving closer to Daryl. Daryl who, for a split second, had looked like he might just put an arm around her shoulders and pull her in to his side….but didn’t. Resisting an urge? Paul had to wonder.

“We’re fine.” Clara responded “definitely looking a damn sight better than last time you saw us anyway.” She added, linking arms with Wendy.

Both girls laughed and Paul wasn’t quite sure how they managed to, after what had almost happened to them… what HAD happened to them for godsake.

“Well we did say we couldn’t look any worse and lucky for us, everyone else looked a mess here too last week, so we fit in.” Wendy, of the two, had recovered quickest from their ordeal. She was younger and in many ways more resilient. Clara had somehow burdened herself with some kind of misplaced guilt, as the elder of the two and it had taken her longer to get past the initial trauma of that day. Neither of them were ‘healed’ emotionally but they would be eventually.

Paul felt another wave of gratitude for Kit and Daryl, even as he ushered the girls out of the room, with promises that they would have time to catch up later.

Their business concluded, Eddie and Ben led Daryl, Glenn and Aaron to the stores to collect their goods. Paul went with Maggie to the cars and as Wendy and Clara rejoined them outside the building they fell in behind with Kit. They excitedly told her all their news, how grateful their loved ones had been to she and Daryl, how she only needed to ask if she ever needed anything from them.

As the three women were wrapped up in conversation Paul took his opportunity with Maggie.

“Gotta say, if I’d known the key to Kit’s heart was ‘eau de motor oil’, greasy hair and a good bow arm, I might have tried that tack myself when I was trying to tempt her here.”

“Hah, I figured you’d sniff ‘em out pretty quick.” She confirmed, with a smile “Didn’t take us long to figure out there was somethin’ special goin’ on there either but they’re only recently actually ‘together’, if you catch my meaning.” She used interlacing her fingers to unnecessarily illustrate her meaning. “They ain’t foolin’ anyone but they ain’t exactly ‘public’ yet. You know?”

“Oh, I see. Isn’t that a little weird?”

“Oh yeah, it’s super-uncomfortable for everyone to ‘know’ but not officially ‘know’ but what can you do? It’s Daryl and Kit. They’re both such private people, put ‘em together and you got that shit squared.” They both laughed at that. “Glenn says we just need to give ‘em time to work out how to be with each other, ‘fore they can start lettin’ the rest of us in on their ‘secret’.”

Having reached the car, Kit and the girls caught up with Paul and Maggie and Kit popped the hatch on the station wagon, to show the Hilltoppers their new equipment.

“Well here it is guys. We tested it out in Alexandria and it works just as well as the one we sent Carol back to the Kingdom with.” She smiled proudly, first at Paul and then pointedly at the girls. “You’re going to need several people here who know how it works and who will be able to operate and fix it when necessary. Any volunteers?”

Both girls looked to Paul and were beside themselves with joy when he indicated that they were welcome to be Hilltop’s first trainee communications operators. The equipment would allow them a real HAM set up, with real range. The plan was to have powered relay stations too and in time, that would allow for a range of hundreds of miles. If any other survivors within that range had set up any similar networks it could lead to thousands of miles. Maybe even the rest of the world too.

It wasn’t any kind of ‘answer’, it wasn’t the end of any hardships or a solution to the shitty world they’d inherited from the dead or the choices that came with it but it did feel like a start. A coming together. It felt like not being entirely alone anymore.

Kit and Daryl had been that for each other and then they’d found a way to help everyone else around them to connect and find that safety and comfort in each other too. Paul and Maggie exchanged a look as they watched the three women pack the gear onto a moving trolley and listened to Kit telling the girls all the theory and background of what the HAM meant. They had both had that same thought in mind. Both smiled and Paul joined the girls in collecting the equipment as Maggie went over to join the boys, who’d just arrived at the cars with the first load of supplies for Alexandria.

--------------------------------

The traded supplies packed away respectively in the Alexandrians’ cars and the Hilltop store houses, Paul had joined the small clutch of Hilltoppers in their new communications hut. Daryl and Aaron had come earlier and left with Ryan, to fix an aerial to the top of the house’s roof. Apparently they’d succeeded in their mission. As Paul joined the group they were talking excitedly to Rick and Carl in Alexandria and Clara confirmed that they’d already had a brief conversation with the Kingdom’s radio guy Toby.

He left them to it, as they got to grips with the practical application of this afternoon’s lesson. It had only been a couple of hours but two of the volunteers were pretty technically minded people and the Alexandrians had brought manuals and books to help them maintain the equipment. What they lacked in technical knowhow, the two younger women were making up for in pure enthusiasm.

He joined Kit, sitting by herself, in what he imagined must have been a rare moment of peace for her this afternoon.

“Hey.” He offered, on approach. He assumed she’d heard him coming but a greeting was always good these days, when most people carried big pointy knives wherever they went.

“Hiya. They still going nuts in there are they?” She smiled as he rolled his eyes.

“Thank you for the new toy. It’s going to be a real game changer.”

“I hope so.” She nodded, ignoring the thanks, ignoring her part in this sea-change for so many.

“Are you happy there?” He asked. When she didn’t answer he pushed “Are you happy with him?”

She had expected him to ask her about staying with the Alexandrians, how could she not but he could see that she hadn’t expected that question. Hadn’t expected him to understand why she was happy to stay with that group, when she’d refused so many offers to join this one. She didn’t know how to answer. She’d frozen solid and he could see she was barely breathing.

“I know you can’t really think that no one has noticed?” He tried to make eye contact to reassure her that this was still a friendly chat. “He’s a good man, Daryl.” He stated, giving up on eye contact. “I’d never have pegged him for much of a romantic but I’d never have pegged you for one either.” She shot him a quick sideways glance at that. “I’m happy for you Kit. For both of you. When the world turns to shit, everyone needs something to cling to. I hope you’re happy. You deserve to be. Both of you.” He spotted a figure approaching from the corner of his vision and risked stretching an arm around her shoulders. He found that she didn’t flinch, as he’d expected.

She looked him in the eye “I’ve never had this before Paul.” Her voice was small, a whisper really but clear and confident. “I love him.” He smiled at her. She did deserve this, she’d never had it and she deserved it all. She turned and rested her head against his and closed her eyes, confessing all. “He loves me too. I’m so lucky.”

“You’re both lucky. It’s a beautiful thing that you found each other Kit. I’m so glad for you both.”

“The hell’s goin’ on here?” Daryl approached the two from Kit’s side. She hadn’t heard him coming but Paul had seen him and knew the affect that seeing Kit held by another man would have on him. For once, he wasn’t deliberately goading the guy for his own amusement though. For once he was doing this for Daryl’s own good.

Daryl was approaching them with Aaron at his side, Glenn and Maggie following closely behind. Paul had meant every word and gesture he had exchanged with Kit but he’d been glad that Daryl would witness their closeness and have a reaction to it. He was ready to take a blow for it if necessary but he wanted to help these two emotional fuck-wits get their relationship out in the open and this seemed a pretty expedient way to do it.

Before he had a chance to brace himself for a hit, Kit was up and standing between them, reaching for Daryl as if he were a teddy bear and not a prickly ball of fury. Paul watched as all the tension drained from the man’s body, as he wrapped his arms protectively around her, a look of pure confusion on his face.

Paul understood. He’d got her thinking about her feelings for the surly redneck. She’d accepted a little physical comfort from him but he’d been a poor substitute for the real thing and then, there he was. It had probably been hours since she’d had privacy enough to hold Daryl like this and all those feelings had bubbled up so that privacy didn’t seem so important anymore.

As Kit realized just how public their little show of affection was, she released Daryl with a little start, catching the amused expression on Maggie’s face as she approached them. But by this time, Daryl had had a taste and wasn’t ready to relinquish her. He held her gently but firmly as the others hung back a little and Paul approached smiling warmly at them both.

“Thank you all so much for coming and the gift of the radio. I’m sure it’ll be the start of something wonderful for us all.” He offered his hand to Daryl. “My congratulations.” Daryl took Paul’s hand and nodded, feeling Kit’s arms encircling his waist, as Paul added “You’re a lucky man.”

“I know it.” He answered, without hesitation.

Chapter Text

Kit lay in bed, enjoying a few precious moments of solitude, while knowing that the love of her life was still only metres away. She thought back to their visit to Hilltop yesterday and was glad that she and Daryl were now a known entity to those that mattered to both of them.

She didn’t really know what she’d expected to happen. Of course everyone would just accept their relationship and be happy for them. Why would they do anything else?

She’d spent the remainder of their visit at Hilltop, hand in hand with Daryl. The physical connection had made her more comfortable, surrounded by so many people, not less. As they’d said their goodbyes, Kit had felt that she was leaving friends and returning to family. The family that Daryl had given her.

Aaron had returned to Alexandria in Maggie and Glenn’s car. Kit suspected that he’d done it so she and Daryl could talk on the way home. They did but there was no real need to. It was out now. No stopping everyone else finding out, assuming Paul was wrong and they didn’t all already know. They’d talked about practicalities. She’d looked forward to getting home and clearing out some drawers in the wardrobe for him.

When they’d got home, she’d kissed him in the street, in full view of anyone who happened to be looking their way. It had felt natural and right. She’d left him to collect his last few belongings from the house. He’d come home to her with a holdall’s worth of clothes, a couple of books but mostly weapons. She’d watched him unpack his things in their bedroom. She’d watched him cook up supper in their kitchen and then she’d dragged him to their bathroom and shared a bath and a bottle of red with him.

She smiled at the memory of their celebrations. Their first night as an official couple. Their first morning as an official couple. She pulled a T-shirt on and made her way to the kitchen. He’d want a brew to start his day.

When he joined her she passed him his cup and pulled him down by his shirt to meet her lips. He smiled into the kiss and held her close for a long moment before she wriggled free, with a playful laugh. “Got to get ready. We’re meeting Rick and Michonne at the gate in twenty minutes remember?” He let her go reluctantly and she made her way to the bathroom.

She stared into the bathroom mirror thoughtfully. He never took advantage. Never assumed that she wanted him, always sought consent. Never so much as touched her without it. Not to begin with at least. Once she’d made herself clear, as she just had, he’d let his hands roam where they liked but not before.

She didn’t WANT him to be complaisant, didn’t want him to think that he could just take her any time he felt the need. Throw her on a bed, bend her over a table and fuck her like an animal.

That being said, she wanted him to feel that he could touch her, with love… yes, with respect… always but whenever the urge took him, to at least feel that he could touch her, hold her, kiss her.

It was the initiation of intimacy that he struggled with most. Seemed to take every other aspect of their new relationship in his stride. She’d thought they might struggle with living together, having both been single their entire adult lives. It might have been expected that they’d be set in their ways a little, or that they’d struggle to cope in close proximity, simply because they were both essentially loners, happy with their own company.

It hadn’t played out that way at all. She found Daryl to be perfectly well domesticated. He’d essentially taken his mother’s place in the Dixon home after her death. Which had meant daily physical and emotional abuse from his father but it had also meant that most of the household duties fell to the boy of ten too. Although he was no chef, he could and would cook without complaint. Although he wasn’t bothered by a bit of dust and didn’t freak out over grease stains, he was surprisingly tidy around the house, liked everything to be in its place and was happy to wash up dishes, grab a cloth and join Kit whenever she had a cleaning bee in her bonnet and actually preferred to clean his own clothes. Neither of them had cared about ironing, even before the world had turned on its head, so that wasn’t an issue. Kit found it hard to imagine that it could possibly be an issue for anyone these days.

They were both comfortable being around each other in silence, so they actually had plenty of time ‘to themselves’ without ever really being entirely alone anymore. They always sat down to talk about their day, as they ate in the evening and would often curl up together on the couch in the evenings to talk, or reminisce or just fool around in relative silence.

It had been almost a week now, since Daryl had begun spending his nights and early mornings here, as well as the lion’s share of his evenings. And now they’d betrayed their first public display of affection. Daryl and Kit were living together now officially. But unofficially they already had been for all that time. Still Kit was afraid that Daryl was holding back somehow. He coped with every day touches from her, as they had become almost normal between him and the rest of his family group.

He had been more than happy to get down to their more intimate activities too, she realized but he still bristled, still stiffened defensively, if ever so slightly and fleetingly. He only did it occasionally and only when she took the liberty of surprising him with a soft kiss to the back of the neck, or the cheeky pinch of his tempting bum, when he least expected it.

She rather suspected that he actually liked these surprise attacks. He certainly never complained. These caresses were invariably taken as an indication of her willingness and usually led to more. She was sure he sometimes sought to deliberately goad her into these intimacies. It was suspicious how often he seemed to find himself in these temptingly, vulnerable positions making it easy for her to take advantage of him in this way. If it wasn’t deliberate on his part, it certainly was on hers.

She would often try to goad a response from him. She’d saunter past him, as he sat minding his own business, her hips swinging ever so slightly more provocatively than they needed to. Well within reach at all times. She would bare her neck, sweeping her hair to one side, whenever she felt him close at her back. She offered him easy access whenever she could. And he never took her up on it. She felt like she was being pretty obvious and basically offering herself up on a plate on a regular basis. But maybe she just still wasn’t being clear enough.

She didn’t want him to disrespect her but she wanted to feel wanted. To feel that he struggled a little, with his self-control, around her. More than anything, she wanted his hands on her body, his soft lips and ticklish beard on her flesh. And she wanted it all as often as possible. Not just in bed. Not just as part of their passionate lovemaking but in tender moments throughout the day as well. Unexpected, unsolicited…. Well, not ever really ‘unsolicited’. Perhaps that was the issue. Perhaps she just needed to give him explicit, blanket permission. Make it clear that she would always welcome his touch, as much as she suspected he truly welcomed hers, after the initial shock of the ‘surprise contact’ had passed.

Having finished in the bathroom, she made her way back to the main living room and enjoyed the sight of him washing up last night’s discarded dishes. He only flinched slightly as she wrapped her arms around his waist. Running her right hand, over the top of his cargo pants, down his hip, over his pert buttock and tickling a fingernail against the seam of his pants at the tenderest spot at the top of his inner thigh, a whisper from his balls. He grunted softly and let out a little laughing escape of air at that.

“The hell you doin’ to me woman?” he moaned good-naturedly, as he turned in her embrace and leant down to kiss her good morning…. Again.

“Just appreciating the merchandise.” She whispered, between kisses.

“Well the merchandise is glad for some appreciation from my girl.” He whispered back, with a smile.

“You’re always welcome to do the same you know.” She added, realizing that with Daryl she would have to be crystal clear to be in with a chance of reciprocal treatment – ever. “I’m always open to a friendly grope from my favorite man.” With that, she let him go and turned to go back to the bedroom and get dressed. Looking back from the door, she hammered her point home by adding (quite wantonly, she thought) “Always!.... remember that Mr. Dixon.”

“The hell was that?” he thought fleetingly, as he lost sight of her behind the door. The thrill of her hands on him, her body pressing up against his back, was still shivering through his core as he considered her words. Did she mean she wanted him to touch her without asking, like she did with him sometimes? Like she’d just done now?

He hadn’t registered consciously that there was any disparity between them but it occurred to him now, that she did do this shit to him a lot. He’d never minded it. Took him a while to acclimatize and get used to it as a normal part of his day but it hadn’t occurred to him that he should approach her in the same way. That she might like it, actually want it. It struck him then with the force of a revelation.

She really, genuinely, honest to god wanted him. Wanted him as much as he wanted her. This wasn’t just “the apocalypse is shit, gee I think I’ll hook up with this guy for some shits-and-giggles – he’ll do!” on her part. That had never been how he’d felt about her and he’d never really tried to analyse her feelings on the subject. He knew she cared about him enough to let him past defences she’d put up over thirty years or more. That was huge and he was suitably honoured. Now he finally realized that she wasn’t just throwing him a bone, or attaching herself to the only man around who’d had as shit a childhood as her and had struggled with intimacy and trust as much as she had. A man who was more than willing to be understanding, to be as gentle, with her body and her heart, as she needed him to be.

She actually, honest to god, wanted him – Daryl Dixon. Just him, just for himself. She loved him, like he loved her. They’d both said it. That first time, they’d both said it in the pale morning light, before consecrating it with their second round of mutual exploration and discovery. It had just taken him a further week and the revelation that he was welcome to grope her, whenever the mood took him, for him to realise that it was as true for her as it was for him.

He’d been happy to respond, every time she’d made her willingness clear and he’d been overjoyed that she seemed to be willing so often but he’d never have pushed her into getting physical without a cue from her. He hadn’t wanted to take the initiative, or invade her space, fearing that her previous childhood abuse might affect her feelings on being ‘surprised’. Apparently not. Apparently she might welcome being ‘jumped’ by him, as he had had no problem growing to enjoy being ambushed by her.

“Right, it’s on!” he threw the dishtowel on the counter and followed her into the bedroom.

She was fastening her bra with her back to him, having already put on fresh panties. Purple. Lacy. Nice. She had no idea he was behind her. He steeled himself for her shock, as he wrapped a strong arm around her and swept down to plant a soft, stolen kiss on the nape of her neck at the same moment. Something he’d ached to do with her at least ten times a day for the past week, even before that night on the porch.

She laughed. Giggled like a kid. She loved it. She was completely into it. He made a mental note to make a point of doing this whenever the opportunity arose. He met her laughing mouth with his own, slipped his tongue hungrily between her lips and smiled as she responded welcomingly. Running her fingers through his hair and guiding his hand to her breast.

Suddenly, today’s run didn’t seem quite so urgent. Rick and Michonne would be late anyway, always were with Judith to take care of before they left for the day. His other hand gripped her lace-clad hip and with sudden urgency he needed it to be in her panties. Needed to be working her clit like the pro he was fast becoming.

She moaned as he rubbed her sweet-spot and nipped at her neck and ear. She moaned even louder as he pressed his body against her and she could feel his erection, throbbing against her lower back.

“My god!” she thought, as he reluctantly released her long enough to spin her in his arms and back her towards their still crumpled bed. He fumbled to get out of his (only recently put on) pants. “I only meant to inspire a bit of a grope now and then!” she thought as she helped him free himself. Well, she was getting that and then some.

“Be careful what you wish for.” She smiled to herself as he penetrated her for the second time this morning. On this occasion his thrusts had more urgency than the gentle shagging he’d lavished on her earlier.

He was still respectful (always), still gentle (ish) but there was a confidence she hadn’t noticed before. It was loving. It was careful of her comfort but it was also clearly a spur of the moment, deep, hard, fucking. Entirely instigated by him, for once and she bloody loved it. All three minutes of it.

At the car, Daryl pulled her into his arms, so they could wait in comfort. They laughed together when they realized Rick and Michone weren’t there yet. They’d had their cake and eaten it too. They weren’t even late.

Chapter Text

Daryl gave up as Rick, Glenn and Jesus arrived. He dropped the ends of the tie in frustration and joined the other men in Aaron and Eric’s kitchen. He’d stayed here last night and felt lost without Kit when he’d woken to find an empty pillow by his side. It was crazy really, he’d only known her two months and had spent his entire adult life with an empty bed. Come to think of it, he’d never shared a bed with anyone as a kid either, so really it had just been these two months out of his whole life. Didn’t matter, she was so much part of him now, that having her gone had hurt physically. He wondered if she’d felt the same when she woke up without him.

He thought about their life together, as they saw Aaron off to join Eric at the church, the others joked around and tried to snap him out of his funk. He thought about that lawnmower shop and wondered if those walkers were still falling all over the damn merchandise, like something out of a Charlie Chaplin sketch. He thought about the barn, how she’d trusted him with her assault riffle and just generally been a fucking super hero through the whole thing.

He thought about how he’d be dead if she hadn’t been there that day. And he thought that, if she hadn’t been there that day, if he’d died, aside from it being bad news for those girls, it wouldn’t really have mattered much in the great scheme of things to anyone else, including himself. THAT Daryl hadn’t had anything but pain and shitty survival instincts to live for.

Daryl remembered noticing the shop as they entered Patterson, to finish what he and Kit had started weeks earlier. At the time he’d thought they’d ended up in that shop by some accident of fate but now he thought about it, he’d known it was on that side of the street and he’d claimed that side for himself and Kit to sweep. Michonne and Aaron had taken the opposite side and the other four had started on the list of specific surgeries, vets practices, dentists and such, throughout the rest of the town.

Kit would usually have ignored the main drag of a town like Patterson but it didn’t look to have been hit hard and they were a big crew, it was worth a look. He’d enjoyed their morning together. It had felt like being back in Garvey, when he’d spent four glorious days alone with her, aside from the dog, learning how she ticked, getting to know her quirks. Falling head over heels in fucking love with her, he realized now.

As he’d stood in that boarded up shop he’d known he was meant to be there. He’d never put much store in fate but this just felt too damned right for any other word. He knew what he had to do. What he wanted, more than anything, to do.

He didn’t call out to her. She’d come looking for him in a minute. He assumed the position and waited. He felt like some pansy assed fuckin’ girl or something and he was sure as hell glad there was no one else around to witness this shit but Daryl found that, when it came down to it, he was a good old fashioned southern boy at heart. He wanted to do it and he wanted to do it right.

The look on her face when she walked into the shop and saw him on his knee was priceless. Worth any amount of humiliation. She had no fucking clue. She didn’t get it. Her confusion was evident and he saw theory after theory flit across her mind in the blink of an eye before he held out the little velvet box and the penny finally dropped.

She’d fallen to her knees with him, right there in the shop, surrounded by the cases of jewelry and hugged him tight in total silence. It had been some form of shock, he figured, he’d held her tight and asked “That a maybe?”

He felt her catch her breath, actually breathe for the first time in minutes. She pulled back and looked him in the face. “Oh my god Daryl, are you serious?”

“Damn right I am.” He’d answered, simple and honest. “Guess it’s kind of old fashioned but I wanna be able to call you mine. And I wanna be yours.” He added. “Will you Kit?... Will you marry me?”

She grabbed him for another hug. Buried her face in his neck and he was sure he felt tears. “You thinkin’ about it at least?” He was pretty sure he knew her answer, she’d just plum forgotten to breathe again. He stroked her hair and breathed in her scent, waiting patiently for her to recover herself.

“Yes.” She eventually managed between tears of joy. “Yes, oh my god, absolutely yes. Yes I’ll marry you. Of course I’ll be yours.” She pulled back to look him in the eyes, holding his face in her hands. “I am already yours Daryl but I’d love to be your wife.”

He kissed her sweet mouth, almost just to shut her up, long and languorous, like there was nowhere to be and nothing to do for the rest of the day. Her tears dried gradually and eventually the kiss had to end. Daryl’s knees were starting to ache.

He put the box in her hand as he helped her up. “I just picked one I thought looked pretty. There’s plenty more to choose from. It’s probably the wrong size anyway.”

It was the wrong size but it was absolutely perfect in every other respect, as far as Kit was concerned. She wouldn’t have been able to hide it from him if she didn’t like it. She DIDN’T like it. She absolutely fucking LOVED it. They found one exactly the same, in the right size and she had him put it on her finger properly before pulling him in to another celebratory kiss. It was a simple, white gold band, with some sparkle but with no big brash stone, sticking out at an imposing angle, all ready to cause an accident. He’d liked it because it looked pretty but practical. He felt like that summed Kit up.

They picked out their wedding bands while they were at it and then filled a bag with a few extras, for other Alexandrian couples to choose from in the future. It would be better than having to chop one off a walker’s finger, as Glenn had had to do for Maggie’s. They left all of the other rings like the ones they’d chosen for themselves though. They didn’t want anyone else to have THEIR rings.

The rest of the day had been standard. They’d got a good haul in Patterson and returned to the cars, as the sun began to wane, for the long drive home. They hadn’t said anything but Michonne had noticed the ring almost immediately. She’d talked all of their ears off with wedding babble all the way home.

Daryl smiled at the memory of holding Kit’s hand in the car on the way back. The cold metal, already warming against her flesh and becoming part of her. She’d smiled at him and winked, as Michonne prattled on excitedly. He would have married her the minute they’d got back if that had been allowed.

It wasn’t allowed. Everyone had an opinion and he didn’t like people telling him how he should marry the woman he loved but some of them had merit. It would be nice to have Carol and Morgan there. They were part of his family too. Carol especially and he didn’t like the idea of what she might say if he went off and just got married without even inviting her. No one in their right mind wanted to incur the wrath of Carol.

As for Kit, he knew she’d like Jesus there. She’d known him longer than anyone else in the area, including himself, so he was kind of the closest thing she had to family or friends of her own. And they would both like to have Clara and Wendy there. Those girls were the reason they’d met in the first place and without them they may never have found each other at all.

And now here he finally was, on his wedding day, surrounded by men in a house that wasn’t his. Wanting nothing more than to hold the woman he loved in his arms, say a few words and be told that she was his forever. His wife.

“Is it the tie man?” Asked Glenn. “I bet she won’t care if you don’t want to wear it.”

“No, you should wear the tie Daryl.” Rick interjected “Women love a man in a tie.”

“Yeah?” Daryl wasn’t sure about that but he wanted to look his best for her. They’d turned over a few men’s clothing stores to find a decent suit that didn’t make him look like a gorilla in fancy dress. It drove him slightly crazy that they’d had to search so hard, when he knew for a fact that Kit had just walked into the first ladies clothing store she’d come across, after the engagement and walked out ten minutes later with her “perfect dress”.

“Just ain’t worn one before, is all.” He mumbled “You know how to tie it?”

Rick offered his help with the tie and Jesus handed him his suit jacket. Daryl gave the jacket an unfriendly scowl. He hated it. It made him feel like a mental patient in one of those straight-jackets. He’d wear it all, just this once, for her. Tomorrow he looked forward to making a bonfire out of the entire outfit.

“Thanks.” He figured he must sound pretty unconvincing, judging by Jesus’ expression. “Think I’ll put it on just before.”

They all laughed. He’d usually hate that but he knew that today they were laughing with him, not at him. Really, by now, he knew that they never laughed at him. These were the closest things to real friends that he’d ever had and were definitely the closest things to family he’d ever have again. Except for his wife, of course. He smiled at that thought. “Fuckin’ hate that thing.” He added, throwing it unceremoniously over a chair and accepting Glenn’s offered Dutch courage.

Chapter Text

“Now that is a dress!” Maggie smiled, rising with difficulty, as Kit came out of the bedroom.

Kit coloured slightly, at the compliment and shook her head but she smiled too. She was getting used to having people around her these days and she was rediscovering her old self, the one who could chat and banter and cope with people wanting part of you. She’d come to enjoy these girlie chats and getting to know the women who’d played such a role in Daryl’s recent past. She would never meet any of his real family, something they were both probably reluctantly glad of but she was beginning to regard this family as her own.

Maggie wasn’t wrong. The dress had called to Kit the second she saw it. It was just a light, simple, summer dress. It wasn’t a wedding dress but it was definitely a ‘something special’ dress. It was pure white and if she said it herself, it was a bloody good fit and it definitely suited her. She wasn’t used to being in anything so feminine, it was weird but it made her feel so good, so confident.

She hadn’t even tried it on in the shop, just held it up in front of a grubby mirror and knew it would be perfect. She spent longer finding a pair of nice non-sensible shoes to wear with it. She’d kept the dress as well hidden as she could on the way home and given it to Michonne to keep at their place, when she got back. Michonne’s reaction had been very similar to Maggie’s, when Kit had first tried it on. She hoped Daryl would love it too.

“Reckon I’ll do for your boy then?” she asked the assembled women.

“Sweetheart, YOUR boy is going to go nuts when he sees you today and it won’t be because of that dress.” Carol held Kit by the shoulders and smiled warmly.

Kit felt tears prick at the corner of her eyes. She’d never been much of a crier but Carol seemed to have the knack of getting her there fast. Maybe it was because she felt like Carol knew Daryl better than anyone else in the group. Understood him and understood her. She’d been the one to push them into doing something about their connection in the first place. Her blessing was perhaps the most important, for both of them, as a result.

“It’ll be because he’ll feel like the luckiest man on earth, to have found you in the first place and to have somehow managed to trick you into marrying him.”

The laughter helped to diffuse the moment and stop her crying before she started. Michonne and Maggie crowded in for a group hug and Jesus walked in to find all four women, in their best finery, laughing and smiling in a tangled huddle, as the dog looked on rather flummoxed at all the fuss and noise.

“Hey,” he said, “I should have come over earlier, this place is way less tense than the big house.” He smiled at his own joke but the words he’d thought ‘light’ and ‘harmless’ caused instant worry in the face of the bride.

“Why?” Her face fell and he realized his mistake instantly. “Is there a problem?”

“No, no, everything’s fine Kit honestly…Wow!” he remarked as the other women cleared to her sides and he saw her in all her glory. “Kit, you look…”

“Yeah thanks,” she dismissed the compliment before it was even out of his mouth “What’s up over there?”

“Really, nothing. Bad choice of words on my part. Everything is fine. Everyone is fine. Daryl can’t wait to get to that church and marry the hell out of you.” He approached her smiling and saw the tension he’d caused begin to dissipate. He got a little over confident with his success and went for an amusing addendum. “Mostly so he can take that damn suit off but still, he can’t wait to marry you.”

“Suit?” She asked, confused.

“Oh shit,” he thought “Why can’t I ever just quit when I’m ahead?”

Kit had been vaguely aware, during runs in the weeks following their engagement, that Daryl and the boys spent a lot of their time in the men’s departments of clothing stores. She’d figured that they were all looking for a nice pair of trousers and a decent shirt for the big day. She’d never expected Daryl to wear a full on suit. She didn’t want him to wear a suit. She hated to think of him suffering through their wedding in some ‘instrument of torture’ monkey suit.

She’d been so pleased with the dress and the ease with which she’d found it, that she’d told him about her lucky find, that same night. Told him she was so glad to have found the perfect dress. That she wanted to look nice for him on their big day. She realized now what those words would have translated to in Daryl’s head. That he’d busted a gut for the next couple of weeks to find a fucking suit, thinking that he needed it to look nice for HER on their big day.

“So stupid Kit.” She admonished herself. She wasn’t even really wearing the dress FOR him, she was wearing it for herself. She wanted to look nice on her wedding day full stop. And she would. She did. But she would look nice because she felt confident and comfortable and bloody pretty in it. She wanted that for Daryl too.

“Right.” She sounded like she meant business and she did. “Paul, I need you to go back over there and tell him that I’ve got my wings out and I want him wearing his. No suit jacket. OK.” She spun him around and pushed him lightly back towards the door. “And if he’s wearing anything but his biker boots I’ll be upset.” She added, as he crossed the threshold.

“Yes ma’am.” He waved behind him as he walked “Your wish is my command.”

She looked back at the assembled women. “Men!” she exclaimed.

“Daryl in a suit!?!” Maggie shook her head in wonder.

“I’d have paid good money to see that though.” Michonne laughed.

“He wouldn’t have done it for money.” Carol added, with pride in Daryl for the truth of that sentence and Kit for not letting him compromise himself for her.

Michonne and Maggie nodded their agreement but Michonne couldn’t resist adding “Still gonna be lookin’ fine, wearin’ the ass out of a nice pair of suit pants though I bet.” She winked at Kit and they all laughed again.

“Not betting against that.” Kit responded, arching an eyebrow. This cheeky girl-talk about their respective men, was still new to her but she was growing to like it. It helped that she was so proud of her man, as the others were of their own. “And hey, if Daryl was planning on a suit, your guys might be going suited and booted too.” She and Carol laughed as Michonne and Maggie shared a look and a little growl at the thought.

________________

It seemed like a royal wedding or something to Kit, who had never expected to get married and never had girlie dreams of her wedding day. It all seemed a bit much to her. In the normal run of things, she’d have been more than happy to have ten minutes in a registry office, with a couple of mates as witnesses, a fish and chips wedding breakfast on a park bench and a nice local pub for a bit of a booze-up after.

Alexandria had gone nuts. The moment they’d heard about the impending nuptials, mostly from the public address systems that were Maggie and Eric, everyone had wanted to contribute. Kit and Daryl had tried to argue for a quick, simple affair but it seemed to mean so much to everyone else. Rick had practically begged them to let everyone take over, if they weren’t so fussed about the details and just turn up on the day when they were told. They’d shrugged and agreed, as long as the date was soon.

So today was a big day in Alexandria. Everyone would be in attendance. Jesus had brought Clara, Wendy and a handful of people Kit and Daryl both knew fairly well from Hilltop, as well as four guys they hardly knew from Adam. Carol and Morgan had also brought four relative strangers and while the entire town of Alexandria and selected guests, celebrated, those ‘extra’ neighbours would be keeping watch on the walls.

It was standing room only, and not a heck of a lot of that, as Kit approached the open church doors, preceded by the dog and arm in arm with Paul. He’d taken off his ridiculous ‘benny’ hat and wore his Sunday best to escort her down the aisle and she was suitably honoured.

The dog was padding along a little ahead of them as they entered the church and as her eyes adjusted to the light, Kit caught sight of her groom waiting at the alter. She was relieved to see the wings on his back, as the place hushed around her and she made her way towards him. He sensed the change in the crowd and turned to watch her. It hadn’t even been a full twenty four hours since she’d been the focus of those eyes but she’d missed it. She thrilled at the piercing, approving, gaze and had to fight the irresistible urge to unhook her arm from Paul’s and run to him.

Kit enjoyed the little flurry of hushed whispers at her back, as she took her place beside Daryl at the alter. The dress was cut low at the back. It had been something of a bitch getting hold of a backless bra in her size, which was up to the job at hand but it was worth it to hear fifty or more individual little gasps as she and Daryl stood side by side with their wings on show. Looking, for all the world, like a pair that was meant to be.

As the dog settled at her side and Paul stepped back from them, she had a chance to really take Daryl in. Good god he looked handsome today. He’d done well to find a nice shirt, that could cope with those shoulders and the trousers were rather fetching but she didn’t need any of that. She’d have been happy to marry him if he’d turned up in ripped cargo pants, a scraggy old shirt, with a black eye, a split lip and covered in Walker gunk. She knew he’d have been happy to marry her if she’d walked down the aisle in a bin bag. None of it mattered. It was all just window dressing. ‘Nice to haves’, nothing more. There was just one thing though.

Father Gabriel cleared his throat to begin but Kit couldn’t let it go. “Ummm, sorry father.” She said, holding up her hand. “Just a mo.” She turned to Daryl and reached for the offending article. “I had to wear one of these every school-day for seven years.” She told him, as she deftly pulled the tie loose. “You don’t ever have to wear one for me.” She smiled, balling up the tie “Don’t need you in a yolk.” She added, throwing it at Rick, who stood to Daryl’s right, alongside an amused Glenn, mumbling something about “ages to get that damn thing right”. Daryl smiled proudly back at her, as he undid the collar button of the crisp white shirt and somehow managed to seem exponentially more handsome than he had just seconds before.

“Are we ready?” Father Gabriel asked, good naturedly.

“We are.” Kit and Daryl answered in chorus.

Chapter Text

“Can I get you anything?” Glenn asked, squatting down next to his wife and placing his hand gently on her belly. “Either of you?” he laughed.

“No, we’re fine thank you.” Maggie smiled back at him. They both shot a quick look over at the party in full swing and smiled at the sight of Daryl and Kit, holding on to each other for dear life, as they navigated a social gathering that was all about them.

“You better get back over there and give those two some cover.” She laughed.

“I guess.” Glenn rose reluctantly “But I don’t think they’ll last much longer, he’s itching to get her home.” They shared a filthy smile and then looked to the belly between them. They both laughed. “As soon as they start heading for the door I think we should make tracks too. You need your rest.”

“OK, sounds good to me babe.”

Maggie watched Glenn make his way back over to the clutch of people driving Daryl and Kit nuts. She stroked her belly absentmindedly with one hand and petted Kit’s dog, who’d decided to keep her company, with the other. All the while admiring her husband’s retreating butt in those suit-pants and swelling with pride as he seamlessly drew attention away from the happy couple, to give them a measure of peace, for a few minutes.

It had been a beautiful day and a beautiful wedding.

Maggie had taken to Kit pretty much from the get go but she’d really grown to love her these past few weeks. It was largely because Kit was breathing life back into Daryl and she suspected that Daryl was breathing life back into Kit too. They seemed to even each other out somehow, they just fit together seamlessly and Maggie was glad to see it.

She knew that Daryl had spent a long time in a very dark place after Beth. She had too but she’d at least had Glenn to hold on to in that darkness. Daryl, she knew, had lost the first real home he’d ever known in that prison. And the last little beacon of light, the last little shadow of the life they could all have had there, had lived for a while, in surviving with Beth. Trying with Beth. Searching with Beth. Learning to hope with Beth.

Maggie knew that Daryl had been the only reason Beth had lived as long as she had after the prison but she’d given him something worth just as much as the protection he’d given her. She knew that Daryl’s heart and will had broken when he lost her little sister on that dark road. He hadn’t just lost her he’d lost himself for a while. Adrift. No rudder. No reason. No hope. All snatched away in the night.

When the group reconnected he’d gotten a taste of a purpose back again but the life was still gone and then her life was gone. With the squeeze of some stupid ego-maniac’s trigger her beautiful baby sister, her Bethy’s light was gone from the world and Maggie wasn’t sure what had been worse. Her seeing Daryl, crushed and in tears, staggering towards her carrying the lifeless body of her sister, who she’d thought she’d never see alive again until that day; or what he’d gone through in the minutes before. To have had her in his grasp, the missing little girl that had kept him human and given him a reason to carry on after the prison. To see her alive and well and still representing hope and innocence and life; then to see all of that blown away in a gut-wrenching, heart stopping moment. The second time for him. The second innocent girl. The second beacon of hope he’d clung to, desperately searched for and brutally lost.

Beth had been Maggie’s blood but she’d been Daryl’s salvation, his tenuous link to the human race and his reason to go on breathing for a while. That whole heartbreak had made him Maggie’s kin too somehow, she figured. Some kind of big brother. She liked that. She could’ve done a lot worse than Daryl for a big bro. …… Merle Dixon, for instance.

Maggie watched as Kit dragged him on to the dance floor for their first dance. Kit had the look of a woman on a mission to get something over with. Maggie hoped those pretty shoes were up to being stepped on by her partner but she knew Kit wouldn’t care either way.

She was amazing for Daryl. Maggie couldn’t have wished for a better partner for him. Kit loved him exactly as he was. Felt no need to try and change him in the slightest. By loving him just the way he was she’d given him the confidence to take a little more pride in himself off his own bat. He’d really come into his own these past few weeks and had even taken to cracking the odd wise-ass remark again. He wasn’t changing for her, he was just re-discovering some of the energy and wit but thankfully not so much of the sharp-tongued sting, of his old self.

As the newlyweds settled into a slow shuffling dance, blocking out everything else and having eyes only for each other, the rest of the community took to the floor around them and she lost sight of them for a second among the crowd. There they were again, moments later, two chestnut-thatched heads, thick as thieves, circling in unison. Maggie couldn’t imagine what words they could be exchanging, these two taciturn individuals, who hardly seemed to talk much even between themselves. “How can we escape without anyone noticing?” was probably high up on the list, she thought with a laugh.

But they did speak. She knew they must speak a lot, in fact. They certainly knew a lot about each other. Maggie knew, from things Kit had said, from the tone and the note of real understanding, more than the words, that she knew about Beth. Not just that she was Maggie’s sister but that she’d been important to Daryl too. Kit seemed to know about everyone they’d lost, everywhere they’d been, everything they’d done. She was never at a loss when one of them started reminiscing, about T-Dog or Andrea or Tyreese, she knew about their daddy’s farm and the Walker Barn and the Governor. She knew that Glenn had delivered pizza in a previous life and that Daryl had named Judith Li’l Ass-Kicker before her daddy had roused himself from his grief enough to face his new daughter.

And Kit had obviously shared far more with Daryl than she had with any of her other new friends. There were unspoken dark patches in her past that she might never share with any of them but Maggie was pretty certain there was nothing that was off-limits to Daryl. Everyone in that church had been shocked to hear her full name, during their vows for instance but Daryl had known. He hadn’t been phased in the slightest.

It wasn’t so much her surname that had shocked the congregation, although the idea of a woman called Bowman, who was handy with a hunting bow herself, hooking up with Daryl was priceless to say the least. No, it was more the incongruous Christian name that had thrown them all. Everyone had just assumed ‘Kit’ stood for Katherine or maybe Kristine, good, strong, dependable names but Kirstie??? It was too soft, too girlie. She just didn’t seem like a Kirstie. Maggie guessed that was why she chose to go by Kit.

That said it all about both of them really. They didn’t NEED to get married, who did these days? They could have just exchanged rings on the way back from Patterson that day and called each other husband and wife thereafter and who would have argued. Or Kit could have remained ‘Kit’ for the purposes of her vows. Who on earth would have been any the wiser? But they were just too real, too honest for anything but an honest-to-god wedding, a proper ceremony, a legitimate marriage and a real name. Let the shit fall where it may, there’d be no compromising with the Dixons. Do it proper, do it right or don’t bother doin’ it at all.

With a little struggle, Maggie rose from the bench, where the remains of her barbequed hog, provided courtesy of the bride and groom on the eve of their own wedding day no less, was beginning to turn her stomach. The dog escorted her, as she made her waddling way over to the family, gathered around the Dixons, who looked a little less uncomfortable when surrounded by the more familial members of Alexandria.

Time to make them squirm, as she hugged, kissed and congratulated them both. Then it would be time to pointedly waddle off, slowly through the crowd, drawing as many eyes to her stately bulk as she could and giving them her wedding present in the process. A nice big juicy distraction, to allow them a chance to escape.

______________

Daryl pulled Kit up short as they got close to the garden gate. They’d run across town from the reception, the moment they’d had the chance. They’d both been happy to let everyone take charge of the wedding arrangements and they’d done everything they’d been expected to do. Alexandria didn’t need them for the after-party.

They’d provided the excuse and stuck around long enough to celebrate, to their own contentment, with the people they cared about. They’d picked at the wedding breakfast, allowed themselves to be photographed, they’d squirmed through the (mercifully short) speeches, they’d cut the cake, danced and thanked just about everyone in town at least once. Thank god for Maggie and her baby bump. They’d seen their chance and taken it. This was their time now.

“What?” Kit asked, worried that Daryl had seen something wrong. She didn’t understand why he’d stopped their progress when they were so close. Their hands still held fast, he smiled at her confusion and pulled her towards him with a predatory smile.

“Wanna do it right.” He whispered in her ear as he swept down and pulled her legs out from under her, to carry her across the threshold.

She laughed in shock and hooked her arms around his neck. “You’re daft you know.” She informed him matter-of-factly “There’s a garden gate, thirty metres of path and three steps up to the decking to navigate before we even get to the threshold.”

“You got no faith in me? Don’t think I can make it?” he asked playfully as they approached the gate.

Kit reached down to un-latch the gate. “Oh I’m sure you can” she purred as Daryl turned to allow her to swing it shut behind them. The dog would make her way home with Aaron and Eric later. “but I’d have been happy with the last few steps and a guarantee that you’re back’s in tip-top condition for what comes after.” She arched an eyebrow and accepted a growling kiss from her new husband.

“Mmmmh, you let me worry about my back Mrs. Dixon.” He smiled as she visibly thrilled at the sound of her new name, stepping up onto the porch of their little home “You got other things to worry about.”

“Oh?” she asked as he stopped at the door to let her open it.

“Like what I have planned for you when I get you outta that ‘perfect’ dress.” He pulled the door fully open with his boot and carried Kit over the threshold.

“Mmmmmh, promises, promises.” She replied, laughing happily in his arms.

Chapter Text

Five years after that first day in Garvey….

He stood at the door, watching her sleep. She hated it when he did this but he didn’t care. What she didn’t know couldn’t hurt her. He loved to watch her sleep. The peace of it. Life was hard these days. Hard for everyone but especially hard for the mother of three children under five. The woman who’d given birth to his babies needed this rest and he needed to see her getting it.

At the start, they’d made a pact to never go anywhere without the other. She was a good hunter and he’d lose nothing by taking her on his hunts. He was as handy on a run as anyone in Alexandria and she’d lose nothing by taking him on runs. They’d made it clear, once their relationship was common knowledge, that they were now a package deal. Take it or leave it.

When they went outside the walls, they went together and remained within easy reach of each other at all times. When they stayed inside, they always knew exactly where the other would be and what they were doing. If anything happened they’d meet at the assigned spot and face it, whatever it was, together. It was how they functioned and it worked.

It worked during those early days, when no one even knew yet. It worked after Daryl had sunk to his knees, in the middle of a jewellery store. It worked after the announcement. It worked after the wedding. It worked right up until Kit hadn’t had a period for three months straight and she was starting to show. Even Daryl couldn’t fail to realise what those two things meant.

She fought to keep going out with him for a few months and for a few weeks, she got her way. But it didn’t last. The first time she had a near miss with a walker the pact was put on hold and had never really resumed. There’d been the occasional days of hunting, the rare trips out to Hilltop or a run here and there nearby but for the most part Kit stayed within the walls and would do until their children were old enough to take care of themselves physically.

Daryl was glad. He’d loved having her by his side out there watching his back. He’d rather have her with him, on a run or a hunt, than any other living creature. But he’d also rather have her safe. He knew ‘safe’ was a relative term in this world. He worried as much about her and the kids here, safe in Alexandria, as he knew she did about him when he was out there. God he missed her, when he was out there in the woods or some town, without her by his side.

She’d made the best of it. Couldn’t stand to sit around doing nothing. Daryl figured Kit had never been much of a sitter.

Most women had some kind of ‘nesting’ response to being pregnant apparently, but Kit didn’t restrict herself to the house. She’d taken it upon herself to get Alexandria organized too. Commandeered a building to set up a school. There weren’t many kids around yet but there were enough and they needed to learn. Not just their letters and numbers but more useful practical skills too.

She hadn’t restricted herself to just the kids either. There were plenty of adults in town with woeful gaps in their survival skill sets. She’d pulled on all of her own knowledge base and her experience but she called in the ‘experts’ in different disciplines too. She’d even bullied him into trying to teach small groups the rudiments of tracking. He had to admit it had paid off. He’d identified a couple of real naturals, who might even rival him one day with enough practice.

He’d shaken his head in wonder, as she and her ‘shop’ class had presented their latest projects to the armoury, the week before she gave birth to their first child. Twelve perfectly serviceable home-made bows. She’d seen an article about how to make them from PVC tubing and fibreglass rods in some magazine, at some point during the previous three years and when Kit saw something that might be useful later, that shit stuck in her brain. He’d been so proud of her that day. And every damned day before and since. He smiled at her now, just as proud as ever.  His own beautiful, brave, clever, resourceful, fucking nut-case of a wife.

He’d arrived home an hour earlier, having lobbied hard that they drive the last leg from Hilltop last night, instead of overnighting and heading here today. He’d left Carl and Victor, at the gate, to deal with the post-mission debrief. Rick knew where he was if he really wanted him. And if Rick knew what was good for him he’d wait until Daryl came to find him before busting in here. If there was a knock on the door, any time before nine or ten, there’d better have been walkers spotted near the gates for the first time in over a year. Or someone’s hair better be on fire. A real fucking emergency.

He looked at his wife and his heart ached to be in the room with her at last. Three whole weeks had passed since he’d been this close to her. Longest run he’d ever been on and they planned for it to be the last. He was getting too old for this shit, he'd never exactly been the best natural choice for a diplomatic mission and there was plenty of young blood around to take that kind of role.

Daryl planned to spend the remainder of his days within easy reach of his family and grow old, watching his kids grow up, with his wife by his side.

He’d go on short runs to neighbouring communities or on clean up details. He'd happily hunt to provide for everyone and even more so when his kids were old enough to come out with their mother and start learning how by his side. But he couldn’t bear the loss of them anymore. Not ever again for so long. The further he’d gone from them, from her, the more his heart had ached. He’d actually thought he might genuinely be having a heart attack at one point. It was definitely time to knock this shit on the head.

When he’d first come through into the garden and seen the little memorial to the dog it had really brought it home to him. That dog had been a huge part of the reason Kit had even dared show herself that day in Garvey. He owed her his life and the lives of his children. She’d meant so much to them all and she’d had a good life here but she was gone in just a few days. An integral part of his own small family was gone and it had made him see that he couldn’t miss any more time with his wife, with his children. The community didn’t need him enough to warrant the personal cost of that.

Walking into the house, he’d gone straight, as planned, for the kids’ room; he’d teared up at the sight of them, curled up safe in their beds.

He’d picked up Bowman first. His first born son was four years old, they’d celebrated his birthday two weeks before Daryl set out. Kit had made him a bow for his birthday, from para-cord, plastic tubing and a single fibreglass rod. It was still just a toy but it had range and they’d have to be careful to keep any real arrows out of his reach because that thing could do some damage if he used anything but the padding tipped toy arrows to fire with.

Daryl had loved giving his son his first archery lesson. He’d always assumed, no... feared, he’d somehow turn into his own old man, if he ever stupidly got some girl knocked up. But Kit wasn’t some girl and Daryl sure as shit wasn’t his old man.

Judith had given him a little confidence that he could be a better man than Will Dixon, a better father but he’d still been nervous before his boy was born. The second he held him in his arms it had all melted away.

“You’re a bloody natural.” Kit had told him and she’d looked at him with such unwavering confidence that he’d never thought to doubt her words, then or since. “Stop it immediately, you’ll make me look like a shit mum by comparison.” She’d looked at them both with unmistakable, heartbreaking pride and Daryl was determined, as always, to live up to her faith in him.

She wasn’t a “shit mum”, she may have no blueprint of her own to go by but neither did Daryl really, none that he’d want to emulate anyway. She was a natural born organizer, she had this ‘mum’ thing down. She’d done what she did best, researched, read up on everything and planned to apply it all. She had it covered and he’d done his best to keep up with the program.

He loved it when she called him Daddy in front of Bo. Her accent made a word that had always carried a note of dread for Daryl as a boy, into something soft and comforting, as well as protective.

Bo’s first word had been Dadda. All three of their kids’ first words had been Dadda. Kit had grumbled that it was “supremely unfair” but she’d encouraged them to say it, as often as possible, because she knew how it made him feel. He’d done the same for her, when the boys had finally got the hang of Mama.

He’d passed Bo to Eric at the door and gone back for Kyle. Their boys weren’t even quite eleven months apart. ‘Irish twins’ Kit had called them and they would be thick as thieves when they were older, that was apparent already. Both boys resembled their daddy but they had their mama’s eyes and Daryl figured that could be trouble. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for Kit when she turned those eyes on him. Those boys might easily make him into some kind of push-over of a dad with those same eyes.

Eric took the second bundle and warned Daryl that Bo was starting to wake already. He’d told Eric to stay with the boys and keep them busy until he got there. Then he’d returned for his princess.

Daryl and Kit had both been shocked by the first pregnancy. They hadn’t been as careful as they could have been but they’d figured they were both a bit long in the tooth to be super fertile anyway. It was stupid really but neither of them had actually thought about getting pregnant, as a genuine possibility, until it happened. The second pregnancy had been breathtakingly unlucky-slash-lucky. Neither of them had known that Kit would be at her most fertile, just a few short weeks after giving birth to Bo and the ONE time they’d had a condom split had fallen right in that window.

After Kyle’s difficult birth, when he’d feared that he’d not only lose their baby but might also lose the love of his life, Daryl had been afraid to go near Kit until she was well past the ‘danger zone’. When they finally reconnected physically, they’d decided that they would be extra careful from now on and they had been. They'd been extra cautious and almost a year had passed without incident but it hadn’t prevented three further pregnancies.

It was just the way of it now, condoms, the pill, none of it was infallible anymore. Only abstainance was truly 'safe' and following a lifetime without love and physical comfort, neither of them could go back to that.

Condoms degraded over time and splits became more common, pills lost their potency, everything had passed its sell-by-date years ago. The only things that hadn’t, apparently, were Kit and Daryl.

Kit lost the first one at about two months gone, the second one, at about the same point, six months later. She’d only barely been aware that she was even pregnant before she’d lost them but it didn’t make it any easier. Neither Kit nor Daryl had ever had any great ambition to be parents, hadn’t really ever thought about it at all until they’d met, had both been shit-scared at the prospect in fact but each baby was a part of them both. A physical proof of their love for each other. They loved their Kids because they were part of each other and losing one, even at such an early stage, was hard. Kit had thought the miscarriages might be heralding that her body was not up to the job anymore and had hoped that the menopause would arrive soon and put an end to the whole worry.

That’s what they’d thought Iona was. Kit had stopped bleeding but she didn’t feel the same as she had with the other pregnancies, so they’d put it down to the change and been glad that there’d be no more babies to lose. Kit hardly showed at all for the first four months and it was only when Iona started to move and kick that they realized that they had another ‘accident’ on the way.

They’d made the most of that last pregnancy. Five months of freedom from worry about getting pregnant because that horse had already bolted. They’d agreed that once the baby was born there’d be no more vaginal sex at all until Kit had stopped bleeding for a full year. They loved their children dearly but each one was a risk. To Daryl it was an unacceptable risk. He couldn’t live through another two days like Kyle’s birth. The miracle of both he and Kit surviving it hadn’t mitigated his blood curdling fear of a repeat performance.

Daryl had never been so glad of a mistake as he was with the safe, live births of each of his children. Bo had been a glorious gift, Kyle had been a hard won victory but Iona had still been special in her own right.

He loved them all equally as much but each one was an individual, each one affected him differently.

Bo was his eldest son and first born, he’d scared the shit out of Daryl with every ‘first’ and made him prouder than he’d ever felt he’d have any right to be. Kyle was his second son, his mirror image and he felt protective of the boy, wanting to make sure he never wanted for love or care, as Daryl himself had done. But Iona… Iona was his little girl. His princess. His angel.

Unlike the boys, she resembled her mama but she had his eyes. Daryl had his own mama’s eyes, so staring at his daughter was like a window into that lost part of his childhood. That part that had loved him unconditionally, whatever her faults and had never meant him harm, though she hadn’t been brave or strong enough to save him from it. In Iona’s innocent gaze he felt nothing but second chances, hope and love radiating through him.

Everyone in town had pitied the poor boys that would try to date her in years to come and they were right to. This little angel would always be Daryl Dixon’s baby girl, however grown up she got. He pitied the poor, quite possibly still unborn, little bastards himself. Wouldn’t stop him whooping some ass, when the time came, though.

As he plucked his daughter from her cot, he grabbed the baby bag by the bed, where his sleeping wife lay. With one last, wistful peek at her from the door, he made his way back to the main house.

Iona was out for the count and he examined the changes in her, as he walked, with her little body safe in his arms. She’d grown like a weed. Three weeks and he’d missed so much. He could see the difference etched in her face and her stronger limbs. She’d been able to stand and take tottering steps before he left but he just knew that she’d found her feet and learned to make use of them, since he’d held her last. He wondered if she’d learned to call Kit Mama yet. He hoped not. Selfishly, he wanted to be there the first time she did that. He wanted to see Kit’s face.

He’d spent a few precious minutes with his boys, as uncle Eric settled Iona in the cot they kept for her in the main house. The man was a godsend to Kit and Daryl. A far better uncle than his own blood could ever have been. Both he and Aaron had loved their kids like family from day one. They WERE family.

Their two homes and the garden they shared had become a kind of commune. They'd extended the summer house to provide the sleeping quarters their growing family needed but they lived in the garden and in the main house. None of the doors were ever locked. They all lived together and shared the care of the children.

The boys had groggily hugged and kissed their father, asked him all kinds of stupid questions and tried to tell him everything that had happened to them in the past three weeks, with varying levels of coherence and success. Daryl loved listening to their pointless, circular prattle. It didn’t require patience. He certainly wasn’t his own father.

Will Dixon had never had time for nonsense. Daryl was glad that his daddy wasn’t around to infect his grandsons with his own malignant disease. Merle would have been better. He would have tried but though Daryl would always regret the loss of his brother, he was also sure that it would be easier to bring up his two willful, energetic boys the RIGHT way, without Merle’s own brand of unconsciously toxic influence.

Eric had made them both a coffee as the boys got it out of their systems. He’d been happy to get up early, when Daryl arrived and take the kids, so Daryl and Kit could have a couple of hours together. He knew better than most, how strong their connection was, how little time they had alone together and how much they needed it. He also, selfishly, just loved having the kids to himself.

As the boys’ interest in their father began to shift to their stomachs, Eric had taken over and drawn their attention to him. Daryl had waved his thanks from the door, as Eric engaged their help in making some version of pancakes and made his way home, to the warmth and comfort of the sleeping woman waiting in his bed.

She moaned and turned over in her sleep. Her bright red hair reflecting the first rays of sun pushing through the curtains. He hadn’t been sure she’d want to dye her hair when he’d brought the first box home. Had thought she might think he was trying to control her or force his own taste on her. He should have known she’d understand. She ‘got’ him. She knew he’d just seen the box and thought of her. Thought that SHE might want to express herself that way. She knew he didn’t care what she did either way, even before he told her so. Damn if he didn’t like it now though. It was just so her and Daryl found everything that WAS Kit, damn sexy.

As she moved in the bed she pulled down the cover a little and Daryl could see she was wearing one of his shirts. He knew she did that when he was away. He’d even caught her wearing one before but never like this, while she was actually asleep, otherwise naked, in their bed.

He smiled at that. At her. Why did she love him? He knew she did. Knew it in his bones, that she adored him, as much as he did her. But he could never fathom the why of it and he could never work out what he’d done to deserve her. He knew he’d be wearing the ass out of that shirt, next time he went on an overnight hunt or visit to another settlement though – the thought of her sleeping in it would keep him going through anything.

As she slept, he unpacked a large duffel bag in the kitchen. There was more where this had come from but Daryl had brought home a sample of the bounty she was owed.

Her gift to every community south of here, that they’d connected with via the radio network, had been the address of a lock up. Each of the stores of food and supplies she had compiled, in each of the towns she’d dredged on her path towards Alexandria, had been gifted to their closest community. Each store held at least two years’ worth of supplies for one person and usually far more, a nice little wind-fall for any sized community.

But the older stores, the ones closest to her starting point. Those ones held a greater personal treasure  for Kit. The Air Force base had gifted her with more than just equipment, training opportunities and a dog. Some of those flyboys and their wives had been Anglophiles in the extreme. Kit had left that place with three full crates of tea and chocolate from home.

She couldn’t carry it all with her indefinitely. She needed the space in the landy for other things. So she’d kept the chocolate and enough tea to keep her going (if rationed well) for a few years and gradually deposited the rest in her first few caches.

All of the communities, they’d shared the whereabouts of Kit’s treasure-troves with, knew the story and unbeknown to her, they had all passed her tastes of home back up the line.

She’d survived the last three years or so, on whatever generic version of ‘English Breakfast’ tea they had found nearby but she’d have the real thing from now on. He’d brought her home a single box of something called Typhoo, with four hundred and eighty bags of “pure heaven” for her. That alone, he knew, could easily last her two years or more. Back at the store-rooms though, there were ten identical boxes, another six similarly sized boxes of Tetley and four huge catering sized bags of Yorkshire Tea. No one else in town gave enough of a shit about tea to argue with her having this luxury to herself. She was set for life.

Daryl couldn’t wait to see her face when he’d had his way with her and brought her breakfast in bed to recover.

He heard movement from the bedroom again. She was waking. He’d moved the kids over to the main house as quietly as he could manage but she was used to being mauled awake by at least one of their offspring by now. She’d be awake soon and there was nothing he could do to extend her peace a little longer. Now it was time to shatter it completely. Time for Kit to be mauled awake by papa Dixon.

He stripped down slowly, never tearing his eyes from her face and joined her under the covers. Hands shaking, with joy and anticipation, he began to unbutton his own shirt, as he leaned in close to breathe her scent and feel the warmth of her body.

“Mmmmhhh, Daryl?” she moaned, half in a dream. He hoped he starred in hers as often as she showed up in his, especially when he was away.

As the fog of her dream began to clear and she began to realise she was awake, she registered the sensation of his lips on her shoulder, her neck, her cheek. He was home. Here, in their bed. “Thank god he’s alive.” She thought, clinging to him with a rush of relief.

“Why is it so quiet?” she sighed, as he continued to kiss her softly “Where are the kids?”

“The house,” he breathed into her ear “took ‘em over to Eric, so you could get some rest.”

“You didn’t need to do that. They’ll want to be with you.” She murmered, as he engulfed her mouth with his own and worked the last shirt button free. She loved the feel of his kiss, always had. The heat of his mouth. His tongue exploring. His lips locked on hers.

He must have cleaned up a little before he came to bed because he smelled of himself, rather than three weeks on the road but he hadn’t taken the time to shave. She didn’t mind. The ticklish bristles of his scruffy beard reminded her of those early days. That first kiss on the porch. She was so relieved to have him here. She loved it all. Her mothering instincts and her brain familiarly ‘parked’ as she gave herself up to her senses and the intimate touch of her husband.

He let her lips go and smiled into her eyes. “Really…. I just wanted to get some.” They both laughed at that. It was so rare to have time together like this. No kids. And he’d been gone for three weeks. Kit wanted to ‘get some’ too.

“Did you miss me?” he asked playfully, pulling on the fabric of his shirt, hanging from her otherwise naked body. She smiled at the ridiculous question and pulled him towards her, resuming their kiss in answer, with rising passion, as his hands began to re-familiarise themselves with her breasts.

To be in his hands, helpless in his power. It was like a dream come true after three weeks without him. Those hands had saved her life, countless times, fought for her, killed for her, comforted her, wiped her tears, refused to let her fall. Those hands had given her more reassurance than a million words from any other person she’d ever known. Those hands were her safe haven and the ring on his finger symbolised that they were HER hands as much as they were his.

There were rules now, when it came to sex. Condoms couldn’t be trusted anymore, even if used religiously, not that they had ever been particularly good at remembering before her first pregnancy, when it might have made a difference. The pill wasn’t much better and was harder to find these days, so they had to be rationed out. For those who wanted to avoid any more ‘surprises’, sex had to be a little different these days.

Kit was lucky, she was well into her forties now and it wouldn’t be long before birth control was unnecessary for them. She didn’t want to get Daryl’s hopes up but she was already well into her fifth month without a period and THIS time she definitely wasn’t pregnant. She found herself praying for the menopause sometimes. Desperate for the satisfying pressure in her vagina, the flutter of her walls against his length, as she came apart. She missed that kind of sex but she’d hardly consider herself hard-done-by.

There were plenty of other ways to get each other off and over the years they’d learned to take aspects of their previous sex-life to the next level. Those hands of his had come into their own, as elements which had been foreplay before were now the ‘main event’. And what an event. Daryl had become the bloody Grand Master of the screaming orgasm, with the use of his mouth and two fingers alone. She wasn’t too shabby herself and was quite capable of reducing him to a quivering wreck in her turn. It had been three weeks and boy did she plan to have her turn.

It was his turn now though and she shuddered with anticipation of what he had in store for her. She knew he’d been thinking about it for hours, days. All the way home he would have thought about his plans for her body. What he wanted to do to her and exactly what he would make her feel when he got those hands on her at last. She could swear she’d heard it, as an undertone in his voice, the last time she’d spoken to him on the HAM two days ago.

He’d obviously put a lot of thought into making sure he had her to himself this morning. With a shiver of excitement she realized he'd removed the kids out of hearing distance and planned to take his sweet time.

She gave herself up to his care now – trusting the plan. She wouldn’t be disappointed. Daryl didn’t know how to disappoint her. He’d never managed it so far and she suspected he never would.

He was the decent man she’d taken him for all those years ago and he’d never let her down. Her guardian angel, the love of her life, the father of her children. The only man she had ever loved, ever contemplated loving. She’d never dreamed of finding him, never even considered there was something or someone out there TO find for her. She thanked her lucky stars every day for Daryl Dixon, as she knew he did for her.

Letting her hand trail down his body, she found the faint, long-faded scar of an old knife wound on his thigh. Caressing the skin, she looked into the eyes of the best man she’d ever known, here, where he belonged, in her bed. With a delighted smile, she whispered huskily, “You’re home at last.”

THE END