Before This and After This

We hit another two spots before heading back to Alexandria. Luckily, those locations fared better than the first three for finding guns. We'd never have as many as we wanted, but we were much better equipped now than we were yesterday.

Now, as I sat cross-legged on our bed - absently cleaning one of the pistols we'd picked up - I listened to the sound of the shower shutting off.

Steam seeped beneath the bathroom door before it swung open, revealing Daryl rubbing a towel over his damp hair, another slung loosely around his hips. Even in the low light coming from the lamp - I could see every defined muscle.

As always, I got tingles.

He was so fucking gorgeous.

He didn't say anything as he stepped into the room, but I knew his mind was busy. Dwight. Negan. Tomorrow.

I bit my lip as he dropped the towel onto the chair - then silently sulked when he then reached for a shirt. "I get it y'know."

He pulled the shirt over his head. "What?"

"What stopped you from killing him yesterday."

Daryl stilled for a moment, before sitting on the edge of the bed to tug on his pants. "Ain't sayin' I trust him."

"I know," I said, shifting closer. "But something stopped you from putting that knife through his eye. And something made you finally listen when he said he wanted to help."

He stayed quiet.

"Is it because you get it now?" I continued. "Why he did it?"

His hands slowed as he pulled on a sock.

"I'm sure as hell not saying it makes it okay - I hate his guts for what he's done." I said gently. "But... I'd have done it for you."

His jaw clenched. "Ain't the same."

"It kinda is," I said, softer this time.

It probably sounded like I was trying to goad him, but I wasn't - I wanted him to know I understood, wanted him to stop second-guessing his decision.

He finally looked at me then, eyes dark and guarded. "What ya want me to say?"

"Nothing. I just want you to stop beating yourself up about it. You made a choice and now he might help us. He'll still get what's coming to him..." I paused. "Would you have done it? Tortured someone to keep me safe?"

Daryl looked away, fingers flexing like he wanted to do something with his hands but couldn't.

I reached for one, threading my fingers through his. He squeezed my hand, his voice rough when he finally spoke with a sigh. "Ya know I'd burn the world for ya."

That sent a shiver down my spine, not from fear, but from knowing - deep in my bones - that he meant it, and I felt exactly the same way.

He ran his free hand over his face and exhaled, his body slumping forward slightly. "Still don't trust the bastard."

"You don't have to," I told him. "But please stop feeling angry at yourself about not doing it. You shouldn't."

He was quiet for a long time. Then, finally, he tugged me closer, resting his chin against my hair.

"I ain't lettin' anybody hurt ya," he murmured.

"I know," I assured him. "I'd unleash hell if anyone tried to hurt you again, too."

He nodded slightly, squeezing me tighter, before moving into the bathroom to brush his teeth. I joined him, doing the same.

"Waste of time, by the way." I told him as I lingered by the door after I was done.

"Mhmh?" he grunted, rinsing his mouth.

"Putting those clothes on."

I could literally hear the smirk in his voice as his turned to face me. "Yeah?"

"Yup. Off please."

I didn't have to ask him twice.

He bit his lip slightly as he tugged his shirt back off, instantly reaching for mine.

My lips immediately found his neck and he released a satisfied moan, his fingers grasping my hips before sliding up my sides, his rough palms skating over my bare skin.

A shiver ran through me, not from the chill, but from him - from the way his hands moved, reverent and possessive all at once, that contrast between his brute strength and his tenderness that had always hypnotized me.

"Ath." he whispered slowly, before his mouth was on mine - deep, insistent, hungry. I felt it in every movement, every pull of my body against his. He kissed me like he was trying to commit me to memory, like he was afraid this would be the last time.

But I wouldn't let myself think about that.

We both knew what this was. It was a way to try to distract ourselves from our anxieties about tomorrow - the fear we were avoiding expressing verbally. Right now, I would focus on how he felt pressed against me, his tongue dancing with mine, his heat - not the other stuff. None of that mattered right now.

I let my hands roam, scraping my nails lightly down the expanse of his back, feeling the way his muscles tensed beneath my touch. He growled in his throat, and then he was pulling me tighter, his hands sliding down, gripping my thighs and lifting me against him, my legs wrapping around his waist.

I gasped against his lips, but he didn't relent, deepening the kiss as he moved me toward the bed, pressing me down onto the mattress.

"Daryl," I breathed out slowly as he hovered over me, his chest inches from mine.

My fingers tangled in his damp hair, tugging just enough to pull a low, guttural groan from his throat. The sound sent heat pooling low inside of me, made me arch up into him, made me need him even more.

His lips travelled down, grazing along my jaw, the column of my neck, my collarbone. He lingered there, his tongue tracing over my skin before his teeth scraped lightly, sending a shudder through me. He pressed a kiss over the spot, like he wanted to soothe the burn he left behind.

"Daryl," I murmured again, more urgent this time.

His response came in the way his hands moved, slow but deliberate, peeling away the last barriers between us until there was nothing left but skin against skin. I felt the heat of him, the way his breath stuttered as I slid my hands down his chest, tracing the hard planes of muscle, the scars that I knew by heart.

He leaned back to look at me, his gaze dark, heated, searching. I met his eyes, my fingers ghosting over his ribs before trailing lower. "I need you," I whispered. "Now."

He growled in his chest, unrolling a condom before guiding himself into me. I whimpered in instant satisfaction, and he kissed me again while I adjusted to his size, rolling my hips against him, begging him to take me.

His body moved against mine with a slow, aching intensity, like he was savoring every second, like he knew how much we both needed this. His hands were all over me - gripping my hips, tracing up my sides, cradling my face as he kissed me again, frantic and consuming.

I gasped against his lips, my fingers digging into his back, clinging to him as he pulsed into me with a rhythm that felt like coming home. He moaned softly, the sound vibrating against my skin as he buried his face in the crook of my neck, his breath hot and stuttering.

"Goddamn, Ath," he rasped, his voice wrecked, like he was struggling to maintain control. His lips dragged over my pulse, his tongue searing into my soul.

I arched more beneath him, my nails raking gently down his back again, hearing the way it made him groan. Every movement was deliberate, every shift of our bodies sending waves of pleasure through me, making my breath hitch, making my mind spin.

I whispered his name like a prayer, and he answered with a kiss that was slower, deeper - telling me something without words.

And I understood what it meant.

This wasn't just about passion. It was everything we'd ever been to each other, everything we were - the fear, the longing, the love that had built between us like an unshakable foundation. Nobody was going to take that away. We wouldn't let them.

I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him closer, needing more, needing all of him. He groaned again, one hand tangling in my hair, the other gripping my waist, merging us together at an angle that felt like ecstasy.

Time lost meaning. The world outside ceased to exist.

There was only us.

He made it last. Every time he felt like he was going to lose control, he slowed, fighting to regain it. Neither of us wanted anything other than this feeling, this intimacy.

When he couldn't hold it back any longer, he slipped a hand between us, his fingers circling in my wetness until I was speaking in tongues. We climaxed together, my name breaking from his lips as he trembled against me, my body clenched, my fingers clutching at him as if I could hold onto the moment forever.

He collapsed against me, his face buried in my neck, his arms locking around me like he could protect me from anything. I ran my fingers through his hair, pressing a lingering kiss to his temple, feeling the way his breathing slowly evened out.

I didn't want to move. Didn't want to break the quiet, the peace we'd found in each other's arms.

Eventually, he shifted just enough to press a lazy kiss against my shoulder, his voice rough with exhaustion.

"M'so glad I found ya."

I smiled, warmth filling every inch of me.

"Me too."

"I love ya." He rasped.

"I love you more." I told him back.

"Ain't possible."

"Ya wanna fight about it?" I teased.

He pulled back, rolling off me until he lay on his side, facing me and giving me a taunting smirk. "I'd win."

I turned onto my own side, raising my eyebrows at him. "Can it be a draw?"

He snorted quietly, pushing hair from my face. "Maybe."

He let his hand linger on my cheek, his thumb caressing it slowly.

We laid there, looking at each other, trying not to acknowledge the pressure of the following day already beginning to ebb it's way back in.

I found myself lost in the warmth of his gaze, wondering if I should say something or wait to see if he spoke first. I didn't know how to put my feelings into words, and I didn't want to say anything that would break this moment. Until I did.

"Should we talk about it?" I finally asked.

"Ya wanna?"

"Not really. But I guess we should."

"M'kay." Daryl took a deep breath. "How ya feelin'?"

I expected more resistance on the feelings talk from the once perma-scowling Daryl Dixon, but I'd take it.

I sighed. "I don't know."

It was the truth. I'd been avoiding the thoughts all day, trying not to think about what was coming. We were finally turning the tables on Negan, finally making our move. It should've felt like justice. It should've felt right.

But mostly, it just felt heavy.

I placed my hand over his that still rested on my cheek. "How do you feel?"

He was quiet for a moment, eyes flicking to my hand before finding mine again. "Ain't sure either."

That was new. Daryl usually had a gut feeling about things - whether we'd make it, whether we'd come out the other side in one piece. But this time, he didn't have an answer.

He looked like he was deliberating whether to continue speaking or not.

I didn't give him the option. "Tell me what you're thinking about..."

He smirked, before his face became serious again. "Didn't never used to feel like this before a fight."

I brushed my fingers over his arm. "Feel like what?"

His hand settled at my waist, tightening slightly. "Like I got so much to lose."

I knew what he meant. I felt it too. The fear of losing him panged deep in my gut, clawing at the edges of my mind every time I thought about what could go wrong.

"You do. We both do." I replied honestly.

A quiet weight settled between us, heavy with love and the knowledge that tomorrow could take everything from us.

We'd all been trying to convince ourselves we knew we had this, that we could rely on Dwight, that everything would work out - but it wasn't true. We were prepared, we should have the upper-hand, but that didn't guarantee our safety.

I couldn't pretend anymore.

"I'm so scared of losing you, again." I confessed, my voice cracking just a little. "I only just got you back."

He looked at me for a moment, before pulling my hand to his lips, dotting a slow smattering of gentle kisses to it. "Yeah... me too."

After a long silence, his voice came again.

"That day we met," he said, and I could feel the hesitation in his words, like he wasn't sure how to bring it up. "When ya tried to steal my deer."

"When you tried to steal my deer." I corrected him.

He scoffed, and I couldn't help the smile that tugged at my lips, despite the weight in my chest. I remembered that day like it was yesterday - the wild look in his eyes, the defiance in my own. It felt so long ago, but it was a memory that would always stick with me, like a marker for everything that came after.

My thumb rubbed slow circles on the back of his hand. "What about it?" I asked quietly, not quite sure where this conversation was going.

He was quiet for a long time, and I felt him shift slightly, fix his eyes on mine. His gaze was intense, but there was a softness in it that made my heart ache. "Was pissed," he admitted, and there was the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Thought, who the hell she think she is? Didn't know what to make of ya."

I chuckled softly. "Yeah, I was hangry, I'll admit it."

His eyes softened, the humor fading as he grew more serious, more vulnerable in a way he usually tried not to. "But then ya looked at me," he murmured, his fingers tracing up my arm slowly. "All determined and defiant. Somethin' hit me. Dunno what it was, but-" He paused. "Ya mattered. Even then. Before I knew why. Before I knew what ya'd be to me."

I felt a lump form in my throat, and my heart ached, a wave of emotion crashing over me. I cupped his face, my thumb brushing over his cheek.

His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, his breath the tiniest bit shaky. Then he looked at me again. "I spent so damn long thinkin' I wasn't worth nothin'." He paused. That people left 'cause I wasn't enough to make 'em stay..."

"You were so wrong."

"Mhmh," He exhaled roughly, as if I'd said something he needed to hear. "Ya were there. Even when ya should've given up. Even when I pushed ya away, bein' a damn ass. Ya stayed."

The weight of his words settled between us, and I felt tears well up in my eyes. This man, this incredible man, who had always been so hard on himself, so determined to believe he was undeserving of love - he had stayed, too. And I had stayed because I couldn't imagine a world without him, even when we were just friends, even before that.

I swallowed thickly. "Of course I stayed."

He seemed to search my face. "Why?" he asked, the question as simple as it was profound.

I closed my eyes for a moment, feeling the reality of everything we'd been through, everything we'd survived together. "Because from the moment I met you," I said softly, "I saw you. Not the man you thought you were, not the man the world tried to make you believe you had to be. You. And I loved you for it." My hand moved to his chest, fingers tracing the solid, steady beat of his heart. "I love you for it, still."

He sniffed, and for a moment, I could see the rawness in his eyes.

"After Sophia," He hesitated. "I thought 'bout leavin'.

I knew that. Somewhere within me, I knew that. I remembered how he'd pulled away from the group, set up a new camp way across the farm. He'd never actually admitted before that he considered going for good, but I'd anticipated it back then - that's why I'd taken it upon myself to annoy him until he couldn't avoid me anymore.

"Felt like everybody thought a was a fool," He continued. "'Cept you... Ya kept traipsin' over for bullshit reasons, 'n' I knew it was 'cos ya cared."

"They weren't bullshit reasons!" I argued with a smile.

"Ath. Ya once told me ya'd forgotten how to lace up ya boots..."

A loud, very unattractive snort escaped me. "Yeah." I giggled. "That's fair... What about when I asked ya to help me find the famous walker I pretended to have seen in the woods."

"The one ya swore was damn Britney somethin'?"

"Britney Spears!" I feigned a disappointed scowl. "I panicked."

"I got smart after that. The next time I told ya to get lost - tryna get me out there lookin' for goddamn Cher."

"Oh my God - I forgot about undead Cher!"

Daryl chuckled and shook his head. "Ya were a damn pain, woman."

"It worked though. You didn't leave."

He thought about it for a moment, chewing on his lip. "I knew if I left... I'd miss yur annoying ass too much."

"I'd never have let you leave." I confessed. "I was already pretty obsessed with you by then. Kept trying to pretend it was platonic - but it wasn't. It never was. Not since you tied your belt around my leg in Atlanta and I felt your hands wrapped around my thigh."

A loud laugh escaped Daryl, surprising both of us. It made me laugh, which made him laugh more, until we sounded like a pair of drunk hyenas. My eyes watered uncontrollably, and Daryl rubbed at his jaw like it hurt.

When we'd calmed down, I asked him something I'd wondered for a long time.

"If I'd have told you how I felt about you sooner... Tried making a move earlier at the prison, or even the farm... What would have happened?"

He looked genuinely deep in thought, but then all he offered was. "Dunno."

"That's a bullshit answer, Daryl."

"I know..." he eyed me cheekily, before sighing. "Ya scared the damn life outta me, Ath. Made me feel shit I didn't know what to do with."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Do ya wanna elaborate?" I asked.

"Nope." He said plainly.

I scoffed. "Okay Mr Dixon. I do think we've had far too much feelings talk from you tonight already anyway."

"Damn right," He said, pulling me into him. "Ain't never talked so much in one night before. Turnin' into you."

I nudged my elbow into him, and he pressed a kiss to my temple.

"Y'know what this has felt like..?" I asked hesitantly, not knowing whether bringing it up was a mistake.

"Mhmh?"

I chewed my lip for a moment, then quietly, "Before."

That single word carried so much weight, and he knew exactly what I meant - before Negan, before Dwight, before they'd got inside his head.

He didn't respond straight away, and I silently cursed myself for ruining the vibe, but after a while, his voice came.

"Yeah... it does. He finally agreed, before his tone turned even more hesitant. "Ath... I dunno how to say what I wanna say..."

He trailed off, but I waited, tracing shapes on his arm as he tried to find the words.

"I got-" he cut himself off with a sigh. "I got shit I need to work on." He paused, and I shifted up to the pillow to look at him properly.

"I know I ain't... I'm different."

An even longer pause.

"Tryna say - I know I ain't been who ya married. But I'm tryin'."

My heart twisted, and I pulled him back into me, my hands locking around him like I could hold him safe there. "I know you're not quite youself," I said softly, pressing my lips to his. "But you are still the man I married... I married Daryl Dixon - you're still Daryl Dixon. You're dealing with stuff - stuff nobody should have been put through - but you're doing it. Every day. And I don't think I've ever been prouder of you."

He tried to blink it away, but I caught the shudder in his breath, the emotion he was trying to hold back.

"It's going to take time." I continued. Some of it might never fully go away - but it doesn't matter, because we'll carry it together, we'll deal with it together." I squeezed him even tighter. "You're my husband... and I love every single part of you, new and old, before this and after this. None of it matters - not to me. I've always got you, always."

There was a quiet sniff, a discreet swipe beneath his eyes, and then his lips found mine again. Impossibly slower, deeper, like he was trying to convey everything he was feeling through the kiss - everything else he didn't know how to say with words. It was tender, but it was also everything - the love, the fear, the hope, the years of pain we'd both carried alone before each other, the hurt we'd endured since. All of it. Everything.

His forehead eventually dropped to mine, and in the quiet darkness, I heard, "Love ya so damn much, woman."

I smiled, my hands finding his back again, the warmth of his skin grounding me, making everything else fade into the background. "I know," I whispered back, "And I love you, so much. Always."

A/N: It didn't feel right not to acknowledge the unease they must be feeling about tomorrow's fight. Plus, who doesn't love a bit of Dathena fluff?

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