The next morning, we make plans to clean up the cell block in an attempt to make it more liveable. Despite the food we got from the prisoners, we're still incredibly low on other basic supplies. We're not camping or on the run anymore—no more thinking about carrying capacity.

"Rick," I say, going up to him while the others make breakfast. "Do you think Daryl and I could do a supply run today?"

Rick raises a brow. "We're cleaning today."

"I know, but...I think we could use it," I say. "We're low on a few essentials."

"Where would you go?"

"I'll talk to Daryl. He knows this area way better than I ever will."

Rick thinks about it for another second, then nods. I grin, thanking him before hurrying off to find Daryl. He's still in his perch, getting ready for the day.

"Daryl," I call.

He looks up at me as I approach. He reaches for me, sweeping his arm around my waist and pulling me to him. "Morning, beautiful."

I give him a quick kiss. "Just got the okay from Rick to go on a run. You know anywhere that might be worth it?"

He lifts a brow. "Just the two of us?"

"It's a quick run. Just to get a few supplies. If there's a pharmacy, that's even better."

He thinks for a second. "Think I saw one of those big discount chain stores on our way up here. Shouldn't be too far. Gonna go soon?"

"As soon as we eat something and I put a list together."

"A'ight. Just say the word."

----------

After breakfast and with a list in hand, Daryl and I head out to the vehicles. They're all still parked together in the front gated area, the overturned bus blocking the way. The green Tuscon is the easiest to back out the front gate. Carl slides it open to let us out onto the road.

"What sorta stuff are we getting?" Daryl asks as we drive.

I look over the list. "Hygiene products, always good to get more food, bedding, and so on and so forth. Anything to make that place feel more like a home."

"You act like we'll be staying there for a while."

"You don't think we will?"

He shrugs. "You're the positive one, remember?"

I sit back and prop one hand under my chin, gazing at him. "I figure, if I can make my cell less like a cage, you'll sleep with me." His eyebrows lift and I clear my throat. "Um, I mean...share my bed, or...yeah, you know what I meant."

"I heard 'sleep with me' and that's about it."

I lightly smack his arm. He smirks a little and I roll my eyes good-naturedly before looking back out the window. I hum to myself to make up for the lack of radio.

It doesn't take long before the trees give way to a more suburban area, and Daryl pulls the car into an abandoned lot in front of the discount store. We climb out, empty backpacks and weapons ready, and look at each other across the hood of the car.

Daryl raises his crossbow, beckons me to him, and we sneak to the front door. He digs his fingers between the front sliding doors and, with a creak, they open. He pulls again, creating just enough space for a person to slip through, and we duck inside.

There's only one walker inside that we can see. He stands behind one of the tills, still wearing his employee uniform, mouth hanging open as he stares at the store. He snarls as he turns to us and Daryl dispatches him with a quick arrow through the brain. I hurry forward to retrieve it.

Daryl smiles when I return to him. "Good girl."

"Not your hunting dog," I retort even as I give him the bolt back. I look back at the walker—a young guy with stringy blond hair. "Can you imagine? You die and you're just...stuck at work forever?"

"Sounds like it sucks."

"You never worked retail. You have no idea how right you are."

We move on, walking down the aisles, waiting for anything else to show up, but there's nothing. The store is empty and quiet.

"Okay, spread out," he says. "Scream if you need help."

"Same to you."

"Won't catch me screaming for anything."

I bite back a dirty joke, giving him a smirk instead before we separate. First thing on the docket, we desperately need menstrual products, so I go right to the pharmacy and hygiene area. Most of the shelves have been picked clean, but I find the place I need.

I grab as many and whatever pads and tampons I can get my hands on. I prefer tampons but in this day and age, anything is better than nothing. At least this time, I don't have to pay for anything; a rarely seen apocalypse perk. Miraculously, like winning the lottery, I also find a box of Midol. Into the bag it goes.

I hear rustling near me and glance up, hand moving to my knife, but it's just Daryl. I see him uncap a deodorant and take a whiff, frowning a bit. I stifle a laugh and keep searching, moving down the aisle. Toothbrushes and toothpaste find their way into my bag.

With the products gathered, I move to the next aisle in search of anything for postpartum. Lori will need them, after all. I search through the bare shelves, checking boxes, searching for anything good for babies or mothers or both, when I stop.

I hesitate for a second, then I pick up a little blue and purple box, decorated with a Trojan warrior's helmet. My skin feels tingly as I look at it, my stomach fluttering. Ultra thin. Premium lubricant. Thirty-six count.

Oh, man.

I hear footsteps and, without thinking, shove the condoms into my bag just as Daryl approaches, crossbow pointed at the ceiling as he holds it aloft with one hand. I don't think he noticed and thank God for that, because I'm not ready to have that conversation yet.

"This place is pretty picked clean," he says. "Not much for meds. Found some more canned things though." He stops, frowning a little. "You good?"

"Hm? Why do you ask?"

"Face is all red. Look like you're gonna burst," he says. He eyes the shelf next to me, at the prenatal vitamins. "Getting baby fever or something?"

"No, no, just...um..." I adjust my backpack strap. "Just thinking." He nods a bit and I nudge him as I go past him. "Just a few more things and then I should be good to go."

"Yeah. Don't want to stay here any longer than I have to. Feels too quiet."

I wander off to the home section. There are curtains, sheets, bedding sets, and I grin a little as I start looking over them. Daryl mostly watches everywhere else, although I catch him glancing at me every now and then.

"Almost wish I had a cart," I say. I hold up two bed sets, one with plaid and the other in plain white and blue stripes. "Which do you prefer?"

He snorts a bit. "Don't care. You pick."

I pout a little, mostly faking. "Humour me. Pretend we're shopping for our own place."

"Both look like stripes to me."

"The red and black is plaid. Come on, please?"

He gives me a look over his shoulder. I lift the two options, shaking them, eyes big and pleading. His lip twitches a bit at the side.

"The plaid," he says.

"Oh, good, that one was my favourite too," I say. "Thank you!"

He huffs a bit and returns to keeping lookout. I start piling things together, grabbing as many single sheet sets as I can realistically carry and/or fit into my bag. With that done, I head to the clothing section.

"You've got extra people I don't know about?" he asks as I hand him a few things to put in his bag.

"I thought I'd give some to the other prisoners," I say. "Maybe it'll help them feel more comfortable."

Immediately, his gaze darkens a bit. "We ain't supposed to get near them. Rick's orders."

I frown. "They're all alone. I just thought it'd be nice." I look over the t-shirts and pants. "Um, which two are still alive? What size would they be?"

"They've got their jumpsuits."

"Yeah, and I bet after almost a year, they could really use something clean," I say. He's still frowning at me and I sigh. "Please, Daryl? Who's still alive?"

"Oscar and Axel. The white guy and the...um..."

"Big black guy? Short black guy? The Hispanic guy?" I list.

"None of those."

Oh, the mid-sized bald man then. That must be Oscar, because I heard someone tell "Axel" to shut up the other day and the only person talking was the white guy. Okay, perfect. I keep picking through the options, looking for simple t-shirts. There aren't really jeans here, but there are sweatpants. Maybe they'd be comfortable in those. There are packs of boxers hanging on a rack and I grab a few, adding it to my steadily-bursting bag.

"Daryl, come here. Let me use you for size comparison," I say, holding up a t-shirt. "Think...Axel's a medium, Oscar's a large?"

"We should go. We've got what we need."

I frown at him. "This'll only take a second."

"You're shopping for prisoners! This ain't important!"

"It's important to me!"

There's a snarl from far off and we go silent. Daryl moves closer to me, crossbow raised, and I shove the clothing I've got into my bag.

"Shit, we have to go now," Daryl hisses.

We take off for the exit. I hear a door somewhere creak open, snarls getting louder. Daryl ducks through the front doors and I follow, only to see that we've gotten some company while we were inside. Walkers stumble down the street on both sides. They're far enough away from our car that they shouldn't be too big of an issue, but they notice us the second we get outside, groaning and moaning.

"Just run! Go!" he snaps.

I head for the car, throwing open the backseat and tossing my supplies in. I hear the crossbow twang as it goes off, but I ignore it, opening the passenger side door and climbing in. A second later, Daryl joins me and he tosses his crossbow into my lap as he slams the door behind him. A walker runs into the door, snarling and clawing at the glass. More come towards us.

The tires squeal as we take off back towards the prison, leaving the walkers behind. For a short while, there's just the sound of the engine, of tires on an open road, and our breathing. I hug his crossbow close as my heart slows back down.

He punches the steering wheel, the horn going off in a short blast that makes me jump.

"The hell was that?!" he shouts.

I gawk at him. "What? I was getting what I needed."

"You didn't need any of that shit! We were there for supplies; food, meds. That wasn't a girl's trip to the mall."

My lips purse, but I breathe and think before I respond. He stares down the road, gripping the wheel so tightly that his knuckles are white.

"What's this really about?" I ask. He doesn't respond. "I'm sorry. I should've been faster with it all, I just...we haven't gone on many runs together. Making the cells feel more comfortable is good and I wanted to have some fun with it."

"Supply runs ain't supposed to be fun," he retorts. "You get in and get out, like we did all winter. You know that."

I sigh. "The walkers didn't show up until we started yelling, you know?"

"You weren't listening."

"You weren't listening!"

Silence again. I put his crossbow in the backseat with our bags. He doesn't look at me.

"I am sorry," I say. "I still don't understand why you're so pissed about me grabbing a few things for—"

"I—" He curses under his breath and I shut up, waiting for him to continue. "Fuck, I don't like the way he looked at you!"

He still isn't meeting my eyes, but he's talking and that's a victory in and of itself. I think of the prisoner group and Axel waving at me, all smiles. "He seemed nice enough," I say.

"Don't be stupid," he mutters. "Guys like them been locked up without any girls around for who knows how long, and you're just gonna waltz over to their cell block like—" He stops, jaw clenching.

My stomach ties up in tight, uncomfortable knots. "Are...were they in for assault? Murder? Do you have any reason to think they'd hurt me other than...I don't know, jealousy?"

"Ain't jealous," he snaps. "There's shit people in the world and if I can help it, I'll keep you away from 'em."

"But are they bad people?"

Again, he doesn't answer for a bit. I cross my arms over my chest, tilting my head back.

"Axel said something about pharmaceuticals. Oscar's B and E," he says. "Said the other guys were the violent ones." His gaze flicks to me briefly. "Doesn't matter anyway. I've known guys like them and I don't want you putting yourself in danger."

"Then come with me when I bring them the stuff."

"Rick doesn't want us to."

"It's called being neighbourly." I almost want to add that he doesn't have to listen to Rick, that his word isn't law, but that's just another fight waiting to happen. Besides, who am I kidding? Rick kept us alive all winter. By all rights, he deserves to be listened to.

Daryl stays quiet. It feels like every time I get past a brick wall, there's another one in the way.

"Then I'll get T-Dog to come with me," I say. "I'm sorry, but I want to do this. If you're worried about me going alone, then fine. I won't go alone, but I'm still going."

Still nothing from him for a second. Then, he pulls the car to the side of the road and parks it. He sits back, closing his eyes, and I just wait.

"I don't get it," he says. "Being...neighbourly? We're in a prison. They're prisoners. This ain't bringing a pie to the people 'cross the street!"

"Yeah, but...also no?" I say. "The world ended but we can still be kind. We can still do things for each other, just like before. Besides, they can't go on runs on their own. They don't have cars or weapons or—"

"They can leave if they want."

"Would you?"

"This ain't about me."

"I think it is. Why...why do you have such a hard time with this? Other than the fear I'm gonna get attacked?"

He still doesn't look at me. Whatever this is, it has to be something more than just what I'm seeing. Is it really just fear for me, or is there something from his experiences blocking him?

I've wondered, of course, who Daryl was before all this. I've gotten bits and pieces here and there, trying to piece together the puzzle he's giving me. A rough upbringing in the rough part of Georgia, an abusive, absent father and a chain-smoking mother who died too soon. A brother who didn't stick around and only came back when he was grown. Lots of drinking and the mistakes that come with too much of it. Crystal meth in motorcycle saddlebags.

He doesn't talk about school or vacations or all the things I thought were a normal part of life. He and I couldn't be more different. I had never given a second thought to how I'd die, or the idea of survival. He's just...always been a survivor.

He'll always be stronger than me.

"Daryl?" I whisper. I reach for him and he turns his head away. My heart clenches as my hand drops back to my lap. "I hear you. I...I'm not trying to be best friends with them, okay? I'm just trying to...feel better about it all. This...this is all I know how to do."

He still doesn't move. He doesn't reach for the gear shift. He just...sits and looks out the window. I should agree to just stay away but at my core, I don't want to.

"You're too nice, Hope," he mumbles. "Sometimes..." He looks back at me and his eyes are sad, hooded, lips pursed. "Sometimes I think this world is gonna ruin you."

"It hasn't."

"Not yet."

I shake my head. "I won't let it." He exhales, eyes closing, but when I reach for his hand he doesn't pull away. I grip him, trying to get a look at his face. "Hey," I murmur. When he finally looks at me, I offer a gentle smile. "I love you."

He leans in, pressing a kiss to my forehead, and then he sits back, shifts the car back into drive, and gets us back on the road. I look out the window and press my lips together tightly.

I keep waiting for the day it doesn't hurt anymore.