The next day is uneventful. Merle isn't much trouble after all, keeping to himself, reading over the Bible that Hershel lent him. Rick, Michonne, and Carl leave on their run early and the rest of us do all we can to keep busy. That's all you really can do.

At least this time, Daryl's around. He takes a shift or two with Judith, wandering around bouncing her on his arm, looking at her with a quizzical bend in his brow, making faces at her, talking to her. I totally don't spectate and in fact, get plenty of work done, thank you very much.

I swear, I hear him humming to her when he wanders back into the common area. It's nearly tuneless, gruff and grumbly, all in his throat, and I love it. She's already asleep on his shoulder, chubby baby cheeks squished up and drooling on his shirt. He carefully maneuvers her into Beth's arms and I focus on the shirt in front of me. It happens to be Daryl's, the one he came home in that was ripped to hell, and I figure that if anything it'll be good to use for mending practice. With how he took it off, it's basically a puzzle to put together.

"What were you humming?" I ask.

"I wasn't," he retorts.

He sits down across from me. He left his crossbow on the table earlier and, once seated, he pulls it into his lap and starts checking it over, doing routine maintenance. I adjust the shirt in my hand and do another stitch, nodding slowly.

"Mm, sure," I muse. I glance over at where Beth watches over Judith in her crate. More stitches. "Whatever it was, she seemed to like it."

"Kid's got taste then."

I smirk at him. "So you were singing."

"Shut up," he mumbles, but his eyes seem to twinkle when he looks up at me. I blow him a kiss and he shakes his head, focused on his crossbow again. "Motörhead."

"Oh, I should've guessed," I sigh good-naturedly. "Still need to get our hands on a CD or something. You've gotta educate me."

He hums affirmatively. I lift up the shirt and gawk at how absolutely horrid it looks, all wonky edges and mismatched arm holes. It's more patchwork than shirt and certainly not wearable. I drop it back in my lap and inspect it, frowning.

"I messed up somewhere," I say.

"That's why it's practice."

"Wanna rip another shirt for me? Or I could do it myself...?"

Again, his eyes fall on me through his ever-growing bangs and I purse my lips against a smile. He huffs.

"You're terrible," he mumbles.

"I'm not hearing a no."

He growls at me under his breath and I giggle, going back to my work as I pick out the wonky stitches.

----------

It doesn't take long before we're back in bed and Daryl repays his pleasure yesterday back in full, with interest.

I sigh, nuzzling his neck as he strokes lazy lines up and down my back, and he grunts a little when I nibble his throat. I'm tingly all over, relaxed, drunk from release.

"You seem happy," he says.

"Really? Can't imagine why I would be," I tease.

I fold my arms under my chin and gaze down at him from my comfy spot on his chest. I kick my legs a little, but I start to slip and he grips my hip, holding me steady, and he smirks softly.

"Careful," he mumbles. He exhales as he tilts his head back onto the pillow, face blissful. "Wish I could just take you away," he says, squeezing my hips again, eyes still closed. "Find some real privacy, have my way with you."

"Mm," I hum, half-sighing as a shiver rolls through me. "Sounds...exciting. Like a real honeymoon."

He reaches up to caress my face, toying with my hair, and I push myself up, hands splayed across his chest. I squeeze him with my thighs, smiling.

"I like this," I say. "You between my legs."

He lets out a low growl, sitting up, and before I know it, I'm on my back again, him above me. He grips my thigh, hiking it close to him as he leans in, kissing my throat. I moan softly and he chuckles.

"I really thought you'd be more shy with all this," he admits. He presses closer to me and I feel him, half-hard, making my breath hitch. "Not so innocent, huh?"

"I said I was a virgin," I mumble, averting my eyes. "Not that I wasn't interested..." Or that I hadn't thought about it, fantasized about doing things exactly like this with him.

Another kiss on my shoulder, hands slipping down my sides, him pressed against me. I wiggle my hips and he sucks in a breath, staring me dead in the eyes.

"God, the things I'd do to you..." he mutters.

"What's stopping you?" I whisper.

"Even if I like hearing you enjoy yourself, this place echoes like hell. Cell block ain't gonna stay empty much longer." I whimper as he cups me, fingers toying with my still-tingling clit, and he steals a kiss. "Maybe someday, angel face."

I sigh. I want to keep going. I just can't get enough of him, his touch, being this close to him.

He strokes me again and I groan, making him smile. "Does my angel want to go for three?" When I turn my face away, nodding slowly, he huffs out a laugh. "So needy, you know that?"

I flush. "U-Uh...maybe?" I've got a lot of pleasure to catch up on, after all.

He kisses my jaw, up to my ear, back down my throat. Fingers touching me again. My eyes flutter shut and I shift my hips against him.

"Yes," I correct. "Please?"

Outside, the cell block door creaks and we freeze. The sound of voices carry so easily in the block's open space and we lock eyes. Daryl exhales a curse and I can't help but giggle. Speak of the devil.

"We should go," I whisper. "More later, maybe?"

"Yeah," he sighs, dropping his weight onto me gently, heaving another sigh. "Damn it."

I kiss his hair, shifting as I tap his shoulder. "Come on. Gotta get dressed."

He groans, but he gets off of me and we hurry to get our clothes back on. Rick, Carl, and Michonne have returned from their run, loaded up with weapons and a few other supplies. Most notably, Michonne has a cubic cat statue, intensely colourful, and she grins as she brings it to her cell.

Rick walks up to Daryl and I as we head down the stairs. "Any issues?" he asks.

"Nah," Daryl says. "Quiet day."

I bite the inside of my cheek against a dirty joke, instead nodding as I purse my lips against a smile. "Yup."

Rick raises an eyebrow at me. "Something funny?" He looks at Daryl, then me. "Hope?"

"Sorry, it's nothing. It was a good day," I insist, waving my hand at him.

I catch Daryl giving me side-eye and, when Rick nods and turns around to check on the others, he bumps his shoulder to mine. I mirror him.

"I'm sorry, it just didn't seem so quiet a minute ago and—"

"You're terrible." He shakes his head before he leans over, pressing a kiss to the side of my head.

"You've said that already." I smile up at him, wrinkling my nose a little.

----------

Of course, the honeymoon can't last and, beyond all this, we're still teetering on the brink of war. We receive word from Andrea about a plan for Rick to meet with the Governor, face to face, to try and stop this before it's started. The time and place is set for a few days out.

I pray that peace negotiations go well, but it doesn't stop the nerves running through me as Rick, Daryl, and Hershel prepare to leave when the fateful morning comes. Hershel's already seated in the passenger side, saying goodbye to Maggie and Beth. Rick goes in and out of the cell block, hauling last-minute supplies.

"You always gonna worry when I head off somewhere?" Daryl asks as he puts his crossbow in the trunk.

I cross my arms over my chest. "At least a little. If I don't worry, then it means I don't care." He scoffs a little, shaking his head, and I exhale. "Just be safe. I know you will, but..."

"Yeah, I will. Promise," he says.

I lean up to give him a kiss and we part when Merle walks into the courtyard. He eyes the car and his brother interchangeably, tongue darting over his lips in a way I could almost describe as nervous. Daryl's hand lightly touches my arm before he turns, digging back into the trunk as he shifts things around.

"Think this'll go anywhere?" Merle asks.

For a second, I don't answer, assuming he's speaking to Daryl, but then I realize he's staring at me expectantly. I blink, then purse my lips.

"I hope it does," I say.

"Course you are. Hope does all the hoping, huh?" He chuckles and I can't help but roll my eyes. "What, you heard that one before?"

"Pretty sure I've heard every 'hope' pun there is."

"I'll try to come up with something you haven't heard then. Wanna bet?"

"She ain't betting nothing," Daryl interrupts, coming back to us. He glances at me. "Less you really want to, but you shouldn't."

"Just trying to make things interesting, little brother. This place is pretty damn boring." Daryl and I stare at him for a moment, then each other, and he lets out a droning "oh" sound. "Ah, wait, no, you wouldn't know that, disappearing off to your cell, bumpin' uglies—"

"Just—" I flush, trying to force back an embarrassed stutter. "Shut up, Merle."

"I ain't wrong!"

"He's just jealous," Daryl mutters. Merle grins at him, that smarmy, taunting grin that I haven't once seen look truly joyful. Daryl narrows his eyes. "You stay put, a'ight? And behave yourself."

"Whatever." Merle bats his hand at him.

"Daryl, let's move out," Rick calls as he tosses one last bag into the trunk before shutting the door. He nods to me, then gives Merle a short, stern glare before heading for the driver seat.

Daryl nods at Rick, then turns back to me, and I wrap him in a hug just as he reaches to do it first. He tucks his chin against my shoulder, squeezing.

"Love you," he mumbles in my ear, and I still can't help the giddy feeling I get when I hear it.

"Love you too," I reply. "Come home safe."

He hops into the car, Beth hauls the gate open and just like that, they're gone. I wander to the gate as Beth closes it, arms wrapped around myself, watching the car until it's out of sight.

"So, sister," Merle says, sauntering to my side. "Wanna help me entertain myself while they're gone?"

I scoff. "Unless you mean checkers, no."

He chuckles.

-----------

As jovial as Merle seemed out in the courtyard, that good mood leaves with Daryl. Glenn has us look over our arsenal, loading all the pistols, cataloguing ammo, and Merle stands by with a sour look on his face as he watches.

I mark down how many bullets we have, noting each full box before counting any individuals. Glenn comes to my side, asking permission with a brief eyebrow raise as he reaches for a few boxes of bullets, and I nod.

"Carl, come here," Glenn says. He holds the box out to him once he arrives. "You stash these at the loading dock. Alright?" He grabs a few more. "Beth, put more up on the catwalk. If anyone gets pinned down, we need to make sure they have plenty of ammo." He picks up a blowtorch, gloves, and an assault rifle. "I'll go work on the cage outside."

"What we should be doing," Merle pipes up, "is loading some of this firepower in a truck and paying a visit to the Governor." His lips purse, briefly. "We know where he is right now."

"Are you suggesting that we just go in and kill him?" Glenn asks.

"Yeah, I am."

"We told Rick and Daryl that we'd stay put," Michonne retorts.

"I've changed my mind, sweetheart," Merle says. "Being on the sideline with my brother out there...ain't sitting right with me."

"Attacking them now could put them in more danger," I say. I set another box on a stack and check it off.

"The three of them are right in the middle of it," Glenn agrees. "No idea we're coming. They could get taken hostage or killed. A thousand things could go wrong."

"And they will."

"My dad can take care of himself," Carl snaps, giving Merle a surprisingly cold glare as he starts up the steps to the exit.

"Sorry, son, but your dad's head could be on a pike real soon," Merle says. Carl ignores him.

"Don't say that to him," Maggie says, another magazine clicking as she loads her gun.

Merle shrugs. Glenn briefly glances at Maggie, then shakes his head. "It's not the right move," he says. "Not now. Can't take the risk of putting them in the crossfire. That's my decision. It's final."

He heads out, door creaking as it slams shut behind him. Merle's jaw clenches and he leans against the wall. I purse my lips, bite my tongue, and keep working.

---------

"I'm surprised," Merle muses as I keep sorting the weapons. Tedious work, but necessary.

I humour him. "About what?"

"You know," he says, gesturing vaguely at me. "You seem like the...golden retriever type. Loyal to the end."

"And?"

"And...I'm surprised you're not jumping to get out there and help Darylina."

I sigh as I set a rifle down, hand gripping it briefly. Yeah, the last time I jumped into something to help Daryl...

My fingers flex against the rifle. I remember rattling gunfire, adrenaline, my roaring heartbeat and the way the rifle jumped and bucked in my hands. If I had left, if I had listened to him and gone with the others...nothing would have changed. It would have probably gone better.

"I'm no help to him out there," I say, half-mumbling.

"Well, aren't you just a ray of sunshine?" he scoffs. I purse my lips, trying to focus on my task, and I hear footsteps, nearing me every second. "Gotta ask, was that you spraying bullets like a loose waterhose? Back in Woodbury?"

"Yeah."

"You're a shit shot."

"I wasn't trying to be a good one. I didn't want to hit anyone."

No response. I finally look up to see Merle leaning against the wall only a few feet from the table, arms crossed over his chest, staring at me with an eyebrow raised, smirking. Always smirking.

"See, that's what I mean," he says. "This group, you're strong, but you ain't killers."

"Rick is," someone interrupts. Michonne, walking back to gather another bag. She picks up one, then her sword, and gives Merle a cool look. "Maggie is," she continues. "Carl put down his own mother."

"Mercy killings," Merle says. "That don't make him an assassin."

"Mm, but you are?"

He shrugs. "When I have to be."

"Then how do you explain letting me get away?"

"I must've been seduced by your sterling personality."

I feel like I should have popcorn or something, my hands still while my eyes stay very much on the move. The way they speak to each other is dry, direct, even with Merle's brand of sarcasm.

"You coming with me or not?" he asks. "Me and my brother, we have a few calls we use when we hunt. I'll give him a heads up. He'll warn the others. You shogun the Governor's ass. I'll take care of the rest. We'll be home before you know it."

"And what about Andrea?"

"Bullets fly, she's gonna have to make her choice real quick."

Michonne's lip twitches at the side and she hikes the bag higher on her shoulder. "You're on your own," she says. "You get people killed, it's on you."

She turns on her heel and disappears back into the cell block. Merle exhales, tongue dragging along his teeth, poking against his cheek and lower lip. I stare at him for a second longer.

"I was wrong," I say.

He glances at me. "'Bout what?"

"You had a plan. Not a great one, but you were thinking of Daryl," I explain. "I thought you were acting in anger towards the Governor, that you didn't care."

"Oh, I'm plenty pissed," he retorts, "but that don't mean I'm gonna get my brother killed."

I smile a little. Even though I'm sure that I'm right about my perception of him in most things, I still judged him too harshly in this case. It was wrong of me to think that he cared more about revenge than Daryl's life. This is the man who left Woodbury behind once he knew Daryl was alive, and I respect that loyalty.

Even if it's just in my head, acknowledging something good about Merle Dixon leaves a sour taste in my mouth. It's so much easier to pretend he's nothing more than a racist asshole. It's easier for me to pretend that he's nothing like Daryl.

"What're you smiling about, sister?" Merle asks, eyes narrowing a little.

"Sorry, it's nothing," I say, shaking my head. "Let's just leave it at I was wrong and you can gloat about it."

"A woman admitting when she's wrong?" He lets out a low whistle. "I'm starting to understand why Daryl likes you so much."

I roll my eyes. At the end of the day, he's still Merle, and he's still an asshole.