We grab an old mattress from the top bunk in the nearest empty cell, dragging it outside to the back courtyard near E block. It's tucked away from the main door, out of sight from the front of the prison, easy to hide away if anything came at us. Daryl sets the mattress up, portrait style, on the far wall near all the extra pallets, then returns to me. He holds out the crossbow.

I hesitate for a second before I take it. It's not as heavy as I expected, less than ten pounds, and I adjust my grip a bit. It almost feels wrong, but I think most of my nerves come from knowing that this crossbow is like an extension of Daryl's body and if I somehow mess this up—

My rambling thoughts come to a screeching halt when I feel Daryl's chest against my back, hands guiding mine into place, lifting my arms and the bow.

"Gotta aim, through there," he murmurs, gesturing at the scope briefly. "Hold it steady."

How the heck am I supposed to hold it steady when he's being all raspy right by my ear? My arms are covered in goosebumps already.

"Ready to load it?"

I blink and lower the bow. It is, in fact, not loaded, and I glance back at him.

He huffs, amused. "Aim it down, like you're gonna shoot the ground," he says. I obey and he comes closer again. "Foot in the stirrup."

He points to the space right above the tip of the crossbow, where there's a metal loop that does indeed remind me of a stirrup. I plant my foot on it, leaning down, and he comes up behind me again. Heat floods my cheeks when he bumps against my ass, holding himself there, and I bite my lip.

"Next?" I ask.

"Cock it."

I exhale heavily. "How?"

"Reach down, grip the string on both sides, pull it back to the trigger box until it clicks."

I do so, bending further, and I glance over my shoulder to find that he's crossed his arms over his chest. His gaze flickers from my butt back to my face and I raise an eyebrow.

"Are you actually wanting to teach me to shoot?" I ask.

"Mm," he hums, one eyebrow lifting as he gestures to me with his chin. "Go ahead and cock it."

I huff and reach down, gripping the string, and I pull.

And holy cow, what the actual hell is wrong with it?! I shouldn't have to strain this hard, right? I release the string and straighten up, more than a little confused, and when I look at Daryl, he's still got a strange sense of amusement just lightly brushing his lips.

"Having trouble, angel face?" he asks.

"It's heavy."

"Held it fine earlier."

I pout at him. "The string! Feels like I'm yanking on a pile of bricks."

He shrugs. "That's the draw weight." I blink at him and he nudges me out of the way, planting his foot back in the stirrup and reaching down, hooking his fingers around the string. "Draw weight on this thing...is 'round 160 pounds."

I blink again. "And that means...?"

"You gotta be pretty strong to cock it."

He does it, muscles flexing as the string clicks into place, and I suddenly understand how his arms could be so much more ripped than the rest of his body. He straightens up, bringing the crossbow with him, and hands it to me.

I take it, but I'm still frowning at him a little. "So I can't even load this thing myself?" I clarify. "What's the point of shooting then?"

"Maybe we'll find you a compound bow sometime. Draw weight usually caps at 80 for those. Most healthy folks can handle it," he says with another shrug. He hands me a bolt. "Load this in the channel."

I can guess what he means. I load the arrow in, notching it in place and making sure it's straight. "I'm guessing this one isn't a compound then?" I ask

"Nah. Recurve." Again, he settles behind me, hands falling to my waist and dragging to my hips, back and forth. "Quieter, easier to aim."

His breath fans against my neck and I suck in one of my own. "Ah. Gotcha."

He adjusts my grip, placing my hand on the crossbow's underbelly, making sure my fingers aren't in the way. I rest my finger over the trigger and squint, trying to aim. He's still right behind me, lightly touching my hips, my sides.

"Just aim and shoot," he murmurs.

I squeeze the trigger and the arrow flies out. It hits the mattress with a soft thunk, sticking out from the left side. I have a large target to aim at, so I'm not necessarily proud that I hit it, but when I look back at Daryl, he's starting to smile.

"Congrats. First shot," he says, going to retrieve the arrow.

I lower the bow, watching him as he goes, my admiration for him spiking even higher. He uses this thing like it's nothing. If I was trying to fight off a walker, I would be dead before I could think about cocking it.

I like to think I've gotten physically stronger since the end of the world, what with constant exercise and stabbing walkers and what not, but that draw weight still feels killer.

Daryl returns to me. He cocks the bow for me and I load it again, setting up to aim. He presses a kiss to the back of my neck, his hands trailing under my shirt as he caresses my stomach and hips.

"Daryl," I groan, half-annoyed and fully turned on.

"Focus, angel face."

Damn him. I aim again and fire. I'd like to think I'm a little more accurate this time and again, Daryl jogs off to get the arrow back. I giggle to myself as he turns back around.

"What's so funny?" he asks, coming towards me.

I smile at him. "We've traded places. You're my hunting dog." I clap a little, although it's difficult with the bow. "Good boy, Old Dan."

"Shut up," he grumbles.

He pinches my ass as he passes me and I yelp, whipping around to face him, but he's pulled me into a kiss before I can say a word. I groan into him and he slips the crossbow from my grip, his other hand falling to the small of my back, tugging me closer to him.

He breaks away first, still so wonderfully close. "So, we gonna keep practicing?"

I just stare at him in slight awe, because he's so handsome and so wonderful and he's my husband. I have a husband! And it's him! I win.

"Can we have sex again?" I squeak out.

He snorts, half-laughing, and he dips down to leave a trail of kisses down my throat. "Eager, huh?" He rubs tiny circles around my hip and adds, still teasing, "One time ain't enough for you?"

"I—" My breath hitches as he leaves another lingering kiss on my throat. "We...we were gonna get interrupted." He hums a bit and I exhale, eyes fluttering shut as I tilt my head back, giving him easier access to my neck. "You're driving me crazy right now, you know that?"

His hand tightens against me. "Was kinda the plan."

"Knew it."

He bites down and I startle at the moan that leaves me. I press my hand to my mouth, cheeks red again, and he gives me another self-satisfied smirk when he finally steps back. I'm going to need a new pair of panties at this rate.

"We'll try again tonight. Think you can be patient, angel face?"

I sigh. "Fine..."

"Let's get a few more shots in, then."

I don't know how much good more practicing does, not when he won't stop touching me and he mutters all his directions into my ear and I just get more and more flustered with every second. My arms start to get tired after a while and the mattress is covered in arrow holes, and I'm just about to suggest we call it a day when we hear approaching footsteps.

Glenn passes by the courtyard, heading to where we've tucked our vehicles away behind two metal gates, and Daryl takes his crossbow back, slinging it over his shoulder. We leave the courtyard, closing the gate behind us, to find that everyone else has come outside too, including Andrea.

Maggie and Carol open the gates up for Glenn, letting him through in one of the prison's vehicles, emblazoned with the logo reading "West Georgia Correctional Facility." Glenn parks the car and climbs out as Andrea approaches, Rick behind her.

"Can you spare it?" Andrea asks as she hooks her bag over her shoulder.

"Yeah," Rick says.

Andrea purses her lips, hesitating as she looks around at all of us. Daryl nods to her when she looks at us. She lingers on Michonne, then sighs.

"Well, take care."

She climbs inside and Rick approaches the window, already rolled down. He hands her a knife and a handgun.

"Be careful," he says.

I don't hear her response. The car rolls forward to where Merle is ready at the gate. He unlocks it, urging her forward as she heads out, and he locks up again. Just like that, she's gone again, and I wrap my arms around myself as I watch the car disappear from sight.

----------

When night falls, once we've eaten dinner, we gather near the light of a lantern in the middle of the cell block.

"They hung a sign up in our town," Beth sings, tapping her fingers on her knee to keep time. "If you live it up, you won't live it down.' So she left Monte Rio, son. Just like a bullet leaves a gun. With charcoal eyes and Monroe hips, she went and took that California trip. Oh, the moon was gold, her hair like wind. Said, 'Don't look back now, just come on, Jim."

I linger next to Daryl, his arm around my shoulders, my eyes closed as I lean against him. I don't recognize the song, but I like the tune, and Beth's voice is clear and soft, the light twang of her accent curving the words.

Hershel is near us and my eyes flutter open again when Rick joins us, Judith in his arms. Merle lingers by the cell block door.

"Well, he gave her a dime-store watch and a ring made from a spoon. Everyone's looking for someone to blame. When you share my bed, you share my name..."

"Some reunion, huh?" Daryl murmurs to Rick.

"She's in a jam," Rick replies.

"We all are," Hershel agrees. "Andrea's persuasive."

"Wish she'd use it to persuade him into a truce," I admit.

"This fella's armed to the teeth. Bent on destruction," Hershel says, giving me a sympathetic glance. "Peace may not be an option."

"So what do you wanna do?" Daryl asks.

"We match it," Rick answers. "I'm going on a run."

Daryl nods. "I'll head out tomorrow."

"No, you stay here." Rick's eyes dart to Merle, then back. "Keep an eye on your brother." Daryl looks over his shoulder at Merle, still watching us, and Rick continues, "I'm glad you're back, really, but if he causes a problem, it's on you."

"I got him," Daryl says, nodding once. I wrap my arm around his middle, squeezing once, and he glances down at me for a second as I smile at him.

"I'll take Michonne," Rick says.

"You sure that's a good idea?" Daryl asks.

"I'll find out." He gazes at his daughter. She waves her tiny hand at him. "And Carl. He's ready. You hold it down here."

"You got it."

We fall silent. Beth's voice is still going strong, echoing around us.

"When there's nothing left to keep you here. When you're falling behind in this big blue world. You've got to hold on, hold on. You gotta hold on. Take my hand, I'm standing right here. You gotta hold on."

"Hope," Daryl murmurs. I glance at him. "Gonna talk to Merle. Meet you up there?"

"Yeah."

He slips away from me, back to his brother, and they disappear into the other room.

----------

When Daryl returns to the cell, there's a sag in his shoulders. I sit up and he sinks onto the mattress with a heavy sigh, resting his head on my lap. I pet his hair gently.

"How'd it go?"

"Don't know what I expected," he mumbles.

"So...not good?"

He exhales again. "Just a whole lotta nothing." He shifts and repeats, mumbling even more, "Don't know what I expected..."

I gaze down at him, heart clenching. "Want me to talk to him?"

"Don't know what good it'll do."

"Well...let me try, at least."

He lifts his head enough for me to slip out from under him, and he flops back down. He drags his hands over his face.

"Sorry, I know we planned to—" he starts.

"We've got the rest of our lives, Daryl," I insist, leaning down to kiss his forehead. "It's been a long day. Get some rest and I'll be back soon."

He hums something and I head out. It's gotten quieter in the block as people have started going off to bed, but Merle is still seated in the cafeteria, looking over the knife he's duct-taped to his stump.

He glances up at me when I come in. "You just missed him," he says, returning to his work.

"I saw him," I reply, coming a bit closer. He's sitting on top of one of the tables, and I slide into the seat across from him. "I came to talk to you."

"Well, aren't I lucky," he says with a chuckle. I purse my lips and he glances down at me, one eyebrow raised. "What's on your mind, girly? I ain't got all night."

"Did you say anything to him?" I ask.

"About what?"

"Don't play dumb, Merle. I know you aren't stupid," I retort. His eyes seem to glint with amusement. "He was upset."

"Just told him that he can play whatever make-believe he wants, doesn't change anything," he says with a shrug.

My frown deepens. "Make believe? Is that really what you think we're doing here?"

"What else is it?" he asks. "Ain't no benefits to be had from marriage. Not anymore. Hell, didn't mean much before anyway."

"It means something to me. Daryl knows that."

Merle shakes his head, still smiling, and he keeps adjusting the straps holding the metal cap over his stump. I keep watching him, mulling over my words. I'm not going to act like anything I say will change his mind, make him see things any differently, but...

"I love him, Merle," I say, voice barely above a whisper. "Honest and truly."

I expect a snarky response, a big toothy grin that doesn't reach his eyes, but Merle stops fiddling with his straps and goes oddly still. He stares ahead, as if in thought, then laughs once.

"Huh." He looks at me. "And why're you telling me?"

"Because you're my brother now, and I need you to know that I'm in this for the right reasons. Daryl wants you around and I want to help make it work."

"You really want him to be happy, huh?"

"Yes." More than anything.

He steps off the tabletop only to sit back down on the bench, elbow on the table, staring at me.

"There ain't no happiness to be found in this world no more," he says. "He can get you a ring, say you're his wife, whatever. In the end, it don't matter. What little time you two got won't be worth anything."

I suck in a breath. I haven't allowed myself to imagine growing old, much less with Daryl at my side. My vision of the future rarely surpasses a week or two ahead. The world's too unpredictable to hope for more.

"I'll take what I can get," I say. "And maybe you're right. It doesn't matter, so long as I'm with him."

He laughs again, shaking his head. "You changed him, girly. It's like I don't even know him no more."

"I didn't do anything," I reply. "He's a good man. Always has been, I think. Just needed time to show it." Merle doesn't answer and I get to my feet. "It's late. Try to get some sleep."

I haven't gone far when he calls out.

"Hey," he says. I stop, looking back at him, and he sighs. "Treat him right or you'll deal with me. Got it?"

"Got it," I say, smiling a little. "Goodnight, Merle."

When I get back to the cell, Daryl is snoring softly, back pressed to the wall. I climb in beside him, making a mental note to figure out a way to make a double bed for us. He grunts a little when I get in, his arm shifting to drape over me, and I gaze at his sleeping face.

I kiss his cheek and he mumbles, smacking his lips once, twice.

"Love you, Daryl," I murmur. "Goodnight."