When we get back after a car ride spent in silence, I hand the supplies out. I give every woman her choice of menstrual products, save for Lori, because...come on. I've never seen people so happy about pieces of cotton. I can't even judge them because my own box of tampons feels like treasure.

I head to my cell and make my bed with my new sheets. I lay my quilt out and test it, closing my eyes for a second as I revel in the feeling of clean linens.

Daryl appears at my door, crossbow still on his shoulder.

"You heading out soon?" he asks.

I purse my lips as I sit up. "Yeah."

"Told T-Dog. We'll go when you're ready."

I exhale. Honestly, I feel better with both of them coming with me. "Thank you."

He nods, then disappears. I start packing the bags I've put together for them; two pairs of pants, two t-shirts, two toothbrushes and a tube of toothpaste each, two packs of boxer briefs and of course, two single sheet sets. Not much luck on the blanket front but hey.

I look back into my backpack as it empties out and the condoms are at the bottom, staring up at me, mocking me. I reach in and pull the box out, staring at them again.

I've soul-searched since the conversation Daryl and I had on the farm. I thought and I prayed and I wondered about whether or not I wanted to hold out for the possibility of someone committing to me for the rest of our possibly-short lives. I never knew how to talk about it with Daryl, or anyone in the group. I think Carl, me, and maybe Beth are the only virgins in the bunch.

It's not even a biblical thing anymore. I've read the Bible (or many smaller parts of it). I know that abstinence among Christians comes from God talking about sex being a holy union between two souls. There's other verses about having to pay a dowry to an unengaged woman's father if you sleep with her, but that's...archaic. It doesn't apply here.

But it's been lingering in the back of my mind, every time I touch him, every time he touches me. I want him so badly but there's this tiny, terrified part of me that says, the second I give it up, he'll be gone and he'll take a piece of me with him.

I keep staring at the condom box. It doesn't matter. I don't even know how to put a condom on. I went to a private Christian high school where abstinence was taught above actual safe sex. No condoms over bananas for practice. I learned about sex through talking to my friends, reading books, and personal research.

"You've got something real you could practice on," a part of me taunts.

I shove the condoms underneath my bed, out of sight, out of mind. I think, the second that condom was on him, even if I insisted it was for practice, I'd lose my nerve and just...jump on him.

I gather the stuff for the prisoners, pack it all back up, and head out in search of T-Dog and Daryl.

----------

T-Dog and Daryl lead the way through the tombs to cell block D and, thankfully, we don't run into any walkers. When we reach the doors leading inside, Daryl stops, and I move past him into the block. There are blood stains on the floor outside each of the cells and there are a few bodies laying in the doorways, heads blown open. My stomach twists.

Not the nicest of living arrangements, but I suppose we were in the same boat before we started cleaning stuff up.

"Axel? Oscar?" I call.

I don't hear anything for a second, then footsteps come from the upper level. Axel's head appears over the railing, then Oscar's. I smile and wave at them.

"Brought you guys a few things," I say.

They share a look. Axel is the first to move, hurrying down the stairs like a kid running to the tree on Christmas morning, and Oscar follows at a slower pace. He keeps his distance once he reaches the bottom floor even as Axel comes right up to me, grinning.

"Hello again," he says. "Don't think I got your name last time."

Behind me, I hear Daryl snarl under his breath, like some kind of overprotective pitbull, but I still smile at Axel. "I'm Hope."

"Well, hey, Hope! I'm Axel. Pleasure to meet you for real. This guy's Oscar," he says, gesturing to the man behind him.

I nod. "Nice to meet you, Oscar." I swing the backpack off my shoulders. "It's not much, but consider this a housewarming gift."

"Aw, miss, you didn't have to do that," Axel insists.

I open the bag, handing Axel one of the sheet sets, then offering the other to Oscar. He comes forward, taking it from me as his gaze darts over my shoulder at the men watching our every move.

"Also got you a change of clothes and some hygiene stuff," I say. I pull out the stack of clothes with a package of briefs on top. "I have no idea what size you guys are, but I hope it'll work."

"Why, that's—" Axel starts, reaching for it.

"We can't accept this," Oscar says, holding his hand up. I pause and Axel whips his head towards him, eyes wide. "We don't want to cause any trouble for you. You should keep it for yourselves."

"I got these specifically for you two," I say, and both their faces soften a little. "I've done the 'living stuck in one place for a while' thing, and nothing makes you feel better than a new outfit and a clean set of teeth." I extend the clothes to them again. "Please? It's a gift."

Oscar purses his lips. Axel scoots back, elbowing him, and they start muttering to each other. I only catch a few words here and there.

"...got clean undies. Haven't had that in..."

"...Rick thinks we stole—"

"But—"

I look back at Daryl and T-Dog. Daryl has his arms crossed over his chest, surly, and T-Dog seems a bit more relaxed.

"Man, just take 'em," T-Dog says when they still haven't come back. They both look up at him and he gestures at me. "The lady did a nice thing for you. Seems rude to refuse it."

They look at each other again, Axel turns up the pleading in his eyes, and Oscar sighs before he nods. Axel grins as he rushes forward to take the items. You'd think I was giving him a five-course meal and a winning lottery ticket.

"Thank you, miss. Really, thank you," he says.

"Of course," I reply. "You're very welcome."

"Doesn't seem like you guys have done much cleaning," T-Dog comments, moving closer to me as he looks around the place.

"It's hard, man," Axel says. "These guys were our friends. Haven't...haven't got the stomach to burn 'em quite yet."

"Should get to it," Daryl grumbles. "Sooner the better."

"Maybe we can help—" I start.

"Hope," Daryl says, and I look back at him as he shakes his head. "We ain't even supposed to be here. Let's go."

"But..."

"It's okay, miss," Axel says. "We appreciate you thinking of us at all. Good to know there's still kindness in the world."

"What'd I say about flattery?" Daryl snaps.

"You've got a good woman, mister! If you ain't telling her, I will."

Daryl's brow furrows and, sensing tension, I take a few steps back. "I'm sorry I can't do more," I say to them. "Best of luck, okay? I hope the clothes fit."

"Thank you," Oscar says. He holds his bundle a little tighter.

Again, I hesitate, but T-Dog presses his hand to my back and nudges me towards the door. I send one more smile their way before we disappear back into the long, dark tunnels.

When we return, everyone's still tidying things, setting up a kitchen and dining area, taking papers and bloody sheets out by the armful to burn. The place is starting to look cleaner already.

"Where were you guys?" Carol asks. "Skimping on chores?"

"Just scouting," Daryl mutters.

He goes into the cell block and Carol frowns a bit as he goes, then looks at me. "Is he alright?" she asks.

"Who knows?" T-Dog says. "Yo, Carol, you need help anywhere?"

She nods and I excuse myself back to the cell block. Daryl's up on the second level, searching through the cells, and I debate going to talk to him, but I'm already mentally exhausted from all this. I peek into Hershel's cell, where he's sleeping soundly. Carol and I have taken turns changing out his dressings and so far, so good.

Done with that, I look around the area and clasp my hands together. More cleaning, then. Keep busy until you drop.

----------

Later in the evening, when we've cleaned as much as we can and eaten a small supper, I'm back in my cell. I tried to hang a curtain over the door, but without nails or a hammer, it's difficult to make anything stay in place. I eventually gave up, folding it up and making a mental note to look for something to hang it up with later.

I pull my shoes and socks off. My socks are due for a clean, so I set them aside as a reminder. As I tuck my shoes under my bed, footsteps approach and a familiar shadow covers the door.

I look up at Daryl. "You need something?" I ask.

He doesn't have his crossbow, left somewhere else, and he has his arms crossed over his chest as he stares at me. He sighs.

"Today felt like a shit day," he says.

I purse my lips. "Yeah."

"Think it was my fault it went that way," he adds. "You..." A pause as he looks away. His boot scuffs the ground. "I'm just an asshole."

I almost laugh. "We all have bad days."

"Still," he says. "I shit on your parade. You don't deserve that."

"You were right, though. I need to take things seriously out there, and I'm sorry for that." I lean forward a little. "Anything else bothering you?"

His lips purse. I wait. After a second, he walks into the cell, stopping in front of me before lowering himself into a squat. His hand falls to my knee, squeezing a bit, and I gaze down at him.

"You are a good woman," he says.

"You're stewing over what Axel said?" I ask. His grip tightens a bit and I reach forward, cupping his face in my hands. He looks up at me. "I know you're not a big words guy, and that's alright. You make me feel plenty loved."

He closes his eyes, one hand overlapping mine, pressing it against his face as he takes a long, deep breath.

"Is there really nothing else on your mind?" I ask.

He shakes his head as he stands back up, pulling himself away from me. "Gonna get some rest," he mumbles.

I take his hand before he can move and he looks back at me. I squeeze his fingertips.

"Stay a bit longer?" I ask.

He doesn't say yes, but he doesn't say no either, and when I move as far to the other side of the bed as I can, he still doesn't leave. Instead, he kicks his boots off and climbs in beside me. He wraps his arms around me and presses his face into my chest, taking the longest, deepest breath I've ever heard him take.

I hold him, lightly stroking his hair. I start humming a song, the first one that comes to mind, and Daryl breathes deep again, nuzzling himself closer.

"What're you humming?" he mumbles.

"Nothing," I reply, voice soft.

"Could sing, y'know?"

My voice is quiet, not very strong, and I continue where my humming got interrupted. "I wonder where you are tonight. No answer on the telephone, and the night goes by so very slow. Oh, I hope that it won't end though. Alone."

I keep stroking his hair, twirling strands around my fingertips.

"'Til now, I always got by on my own. I never really cared until I met you," I sing, still soft, barely a whisper. "And now...it chills me to the bone. How do I get you alone? How do I get you alone?"

"You like rock?"

His voice is still low, husky, muddled with exhaustion. His weight presses against me like a blanket, breath hot between my breasts, warming the cross I still wear around my neck.

"I loved the eighties. I was really little then but it's when I fell in love with music," I say. "My mom played albums in the kitchen when she cooked or cleaned. I think I memorized that song in a few days when it first came out. I was six."

"Think I was high for most of the eighties."

"So, were you early twenties then, or...?"

"You think I'm that old?"

"Just teasing you."

"Mm." A pause as he shifts, hugging me tighter, like I'm his personal body pillow. "It was my teen years. Came outta the eighties a man."

"You're a lot older than me, huh?"

"Don't make it weird."

"Did you always go for younger girls? Cruise by elementary schools looking for chicks?"

"I'd throw something at you if I wasn't so damn comfy. Ain't into kids."

"Okay, okay, but if you think about it—"

He reaches up and puts his entire hand over my face. "Talkin' privileges are gone."

"Daryl—" I say, half-laughing, muffled.

"You gonna make another pedo joke?"

"Too far?" He doesn't answer and I sigh. "Sorry. I think I'm still trying to cheer you up."

"Think Merle would've laughed," he admits, releasing my face and dropping his hand back onto me. "He'd get a real kick out of this."

"What, like us?"

He nods. "Always said I'd die alone."

"That's rude."

"That's Merle for you."

We lay there in the silence. I close my eyes, breathe, and enjoy the feeling of him.

"I think my mom would have a heart attack if I brought you home," I muse. "Her and my dad were the same year in high school, met at bible college. She never got why I always went after older men."

"You think they would've liked me?"

I mull over the question. "Maybe, if they could look past the motorcycle...and the tattoos...and the drugs...and the age gap..."

"Pfft," he scoffs. "So they wouldn't. I'm the big, bad guy stealing away their precious girl."

"They'd learn to live with it. I wouldn't give up so easy. Besides, they didn't seem to care about their precious girl when..."

My tongue ties, heart clenching a bit at the sudden wave of emotion, of memories: my dad shouting, my mom crying, bemoaning how I've wasted their time, how I'm throwing my life away, how they expected better of me. I said things I regret. Maybe they did too.

Daryl shifts, pulling himself away from me only to shift so that our faces are level. His thumb catches the tears on my lashes.

"Wasn't fun, huh?" he asks.

I shake my head and press myself closer to him, face against where his neck meets his shoulder. He always smells like sweat and dirt but god, I feel like I could breathe him in forever.

"Daryl?"

"Mm."

"If there's one thing I'm grateful for in all this...it's that I found you. We wouldn't have met if the world didn't end."

"Yeah?"

"I thought, once I'd saved up the money, got some courage and success, I'd go back home to Canada. I was waiting for everything to fall back into place."

But things fell even further apart and now I'm in a prison cell, cuddled up against a tattooed redneck, more in love than I've been with anyone in my life. It's like fate, if you believe in that. A part of me does.

"Guess that's one good thing," he says. "Glad I met you."

His lips press against my hair, lingering there as he takes another long, deep breath. I look up at him when he pulls away and his expression is unreadable, his lovely eyes searching my face, and my heart lifts a bit in anticipation. Maybe today's the day.

But, he kisses my lips, fingertips brushing my chin softly. "Should get some sleep," he says.

My heart clenches. "You'll stay, right?" His gaze moves to the door. "At least until I fall asleep?"

He nods, pulls me close, and I tell myself what I once thought of as absolute truth, that this is fine and I don't need more than this.