Every Fine Grain

I woke up groggy, the ache in my limbs reminding me that the last few days hadn't been some twisted fever dream. My body felt heavy, but I instinctively reached across the bed, fingers seeking warmth, the familiar presence of Daryl beside me.

Except - what I found wasn't Daryl.

It was Carol, smiling at me menacingly.

I bolted upright so fast I nearly launched myself off the bed, causing pain to shoot through my side. "Holy fucking shitballs, woman!"

Carol snorted, shifting beneath the blankets. "Good morning, sunshine. Didn't mean to scare you."

"What-why-how-" My brain short-circuited. "Why are you in my bed?!"

Carol chuckled, utterly unbothered. "Daryl had to meet with Rick. Didn't want to wake you, but didn't want you alone. So, you've got me instead." She stretched, pulling the covers up around her like she had no plans to move. "You talk in your sleep."

I stared at her. "And you thought the best way to keep me company was to crawl into bed with me?"

She shrugged. "You were out cold. I got tired of sitting in the chair." A pause. "Besides, I thought you were dead a couple of days ago, I wanted to snuggle with ya."

I smiled, raising my eyebrows. "Yeah. Everyone loves me now I've risen from the dead. Couldn't get rid of you all yesterday."

She patted my arm. "We loved you before." Her tone turned more serious. "We were all devastated when we thought we'd lost you. Everyone was a mess."

"Good." I teased.

"Seriously," Carol continued. "I'm so glad you're okay. We all are. You should've seen Daryl... It was heart-breaking."

That hurt my heart. She noticed how I stiffened and tried to change the subject.

"So you've got some cool new scars, huh?"

"Yup." I let out a long sigh, staring at the ceiling. "What's Daryl talking to Rick about?"

Carol rubbed her eyes. "What happens if Deanna wants us to leave."

Shit. I turned my head toward her, watching her carefully. "And?"

She gave me a knowing look. "And Rick isn't planning on leaving."

"When's the meeting?"

"Tonight."

"I'll be there."

"Good luck convincing your husband to let you out of this room." Carol scoffed.

I shook my head.

"Nicholas..." she started. "He's full of shit, isn't he?"

I nodded gravely.

"Yeah." Carol smirked. "I thought as much."

I snorted. "He's a dick. More than a dick.

"Yeah well, Daryl already beat him half-to-death for leaving without you - and that's when he still thought the coward had tried to save you... Ya gonna tell me what actually happened out there?" Carol pressed."

I hesitated, but it was Carol. I told her everything. "Aiden was shooting like an idiot - hit a walker with a grenade strapped to it. Nicholas ran before that, left Noah to die. I imagine he was half-way to the car before the explosion even happened."

"Why tell us he'd seen you go down? Why lie?"

I took a deep breath. "I think it's because he didn't want me being rescued. So I couldn't tell everyone how he'd abandoned Noah like a coward."

Carol's face didn't change, but I saw the calculation behind her eyes. The way her fingers curled just slightly against the blanket. "If your husband finds out-"

"He'll kill him," I finished.

We sat in silence for a moment, both acknowledging that truth.

Then Carol hummed thoughtfully. "We should kill him... I haven't blown anyone up in a while."

I considered it. Really considered it. "Tempting," I admitted. "But you know what would be more fun?"

Carol raised a brow.

"Terrorizing him. Daily."

Her lips curled into a wicked grin. "I like where this is going."

I smirked. "Imagine it - Nicholas never knowing when something's coming. Always looking over his shoulder. We make his life hell. It'll be way more fun than just offing him."

Carol tapped her chin, deep in fake-thought. "We could start small. Move his stuff around. Just enough to make him think he's losing it."

I grinned. "Or - what if I just stand outside his house at night? Staring. No words. Just... staring."

Carol cackled. "I'll break into his house every time he showers and turn the water off, then run."

"Or you bake him cookies, but when he eats them, I just whisper, 'Did you taste that?' and then walk away."

"Oh, that's evil," Carol praised. "What if we make him think Alexandria's haunted?"

"We could tie fishing line to random objects in his house and pull them from the windows," I mused. "Make it real subtle."

Carol's eyes gleamed. "Or we rig his toilet to splash back at him every time he flushes."

I fake gasped. "That's just cruel."

Carol grinned. "Exactly."

We lay there, grinning like a couple of sleepover kids planning pranks on a camp counselor, completely ignoring the fact that I'd just been left for dead by the cretin we were plotting against.

"Daryl really is gonna kill him, when he finds out, isn't he?" I mused.

Carol stretched. "Oh, absolutely."

I sighed dramatically. "Well, at least we'll have some fun first."

Carol patted my shoulder and passed me an apple. "Eat. I promised Daryl I'd make you before you take your meds."

"Yes, ma'am."

She sighed heavily, her tone becoming somber. "Sam told me Pete beats Jessie."

"I don't know who they are." I mumbled incoherently, my mouth full of apple.

"Well, if you two bothered getting to know people around here - you would."

"Touche." I countered, accidentally spraying her with more of my apple.

"Jessie's a sweet woman. She's the one that cut Rick's hair. Pete is her brute husband. They have two boys - Sam's the youngest."

"Shit." I muttered, knowing how close this situation was to Carol's own past. "That the guy Rick beat the hell out of?"

"Yeah. I told him he should kill him." She said plainly.

"You're extra murderous today, Carol."

She took a deep breath. "If those walkers hadn't got Ed. I wouldn't be laying here today..."

I rubbed her shoulder, not having the right words to offer. "We could terrorize him too..?"

~

Daryl wasn't happy about me accompanying him to the meeting, but I politely reminded him that being my husband-and also the sexiest man on planet Earth-didn't mean he could tell me what to do.

So here I was, standing alongside him, Maggie, Hershel, Michonne, Carol, Abraham, Glenn, Merle, and Eugene, waiting for Rick to arrive so the meeting could start.

A plan was in place. If Rick sensed the meeting wasn't going our way, he would whistle. That would be our cue. We'd grab Deanna, her husband Reg, and their son Spencer-knives to their throats-until we were granted access to the armory. Then, we'd take the place.

It sounded harsh, but we weren't losing Alexandria. Not now.

Daryl had made me promise that if things went sideways, I'd seek shelter-my injuries making it unsafe for me to fight.

I'd nodded along, pretending to agree, but we both knew that was bullshit. Running and hiding weren't in my nature.

The Alexandrians scowled at us, their disdain rolling off them in waves, and I felt my temper flare. Who the hell did they think they were? They knew nothing about the real world anymore, yet they looked at us like we were the problem.

Then Deanna stood, addressing the crowd before Rick and the others had even arrived. My anger spiked.

Maggie caught it too. "Rick wouldn't miss this meeting," she argued.

Deanna held up a hand, cutting her off. Rude.

"We're going to talk about one of our constables, Rick Grimes," she announced. "We're going to talk about how he had a pistol he stole from the armory, about how he pointed it at people... I was hoping he'd be here."

A low growl escaped me before I could stop it. Daryl squeezed my hand, a silent reminder to keep my cool, but I couldn't.

"Maggie told you he's coming," I snapped. "You just don't want to wait because you don't want him to be able to defend himself."

Michonne wasn't having any of it either.

"Rick just wants his family to live. He wants all of you to live," she told the crowd. "Who he is, is who you're gonna be... if you're lucky."

Abraham folded his arms. "Simply put, there's a vast ocean of shit you people don't know shit about. Rick knows every fine grain of said shit... and then some."

Maggie nodded. "He's saved my family more times than I can count."

Deanna's expression hardened. "He's dangerous."

Daryl abandoned trying to keep his cool. "Y'all don't know nothin'," he snapped. "Are ya stupid? Wanna throw us out-the people who actually know how to survive in this damn world? Y'all need us."

One of the Alexandrians had just stood up, ready to speak, when Rick appeared like a goddamn nightmare vision, covered head to toe in blood and hauling a dead walker behind him.

The gathered Alexandrians gasped as he threw the corpse at Deanna's feet.

"There wasn't a guard on the gate," Rick stated, his voice low and controlled. "It was open." His gaze swept across the crowd. "I didn't bring it in. It got inside on its own."

Shit.

The weight of his words settled over the Alexandrians like a dark cloud. He let it sink in before continuing.

"They always will-the dead and the living. Because we're in here. And the ones out there? They'll hunt us. They'll find us. They'll try to use us. They'll try to kill us." He paused, letting his blood-streaked face drive the point home. "But we'll kill them. We'll survive. I'll show you how."

I nudged Daryl. "He looks cool as fuck."

Daryl gave a small nod, eyes fixed on Rick.

Rick's voice cut through the tense silence.

"You know, I was thinking," he continued, "how many of you do I have to kill to save your lives?" He let the question hang in the air. "But I'm not gonna do that. You're gonna change. You're not ready, but you have to be. Right now, you have to be. Luck runs out."

The moment shattered as a drunken man stumbled forward, yelling.

"You're not one of us!"

My gaze snapped to him-messy hair, wild eyes, a katana in his hands.

I knew instinctively who this was. Pete - the wife-beater.

Our whole group stiffened, already calculating how to disarm him.

"Pete, you don't want to do this!" Reg stepped forward, placing his hands on the man's shoulders.

Daryl moved first, but it was too late.

Pete shoved Reg off-only for the katana to slice through his throat.

Screams erupted.

Reg gasped, blood spurting between his fingers as he collapsed to the ground.

Deanna and Spencer rushed to him, their hands useless against the flood of red.

Daryl and Abraham tackled Pete, ripping the katana away as Reg took his final, shuddering breath.

"This is him!" Pete shrieked, pointing at Rick.

Deanna's wild, grief-stricken eyes locked onto Rick. "Rick... do it."

No hesitation.

Rick raised his gun and shot Pete dead.

Alexandrians screamed. Our group looked at each other bewildered by what had just happened.

Aaron appeared, his face aghast to see what was unfolding before him.

A shaven-headed African-American man stood beside him, eyeing Rick with recognition.

"Rick?" he spoke.

My head spun.

What the fuck was happening?

~

The air was thick, humming with tension as we filed into Rick's house, still reeling from what had just happened. No one spoke at first, the weight of it all pressing down on us. Reg was dead. Pete was dead. And Rick had just executed a man in front of the whole goddamn community.

The front door shut with a heavy thud behind Abraham, and that seemed to snap everyone out of the stunned silence.

Carol headed straight for the kitchen, rummaging through the cupboards. "If ever there was a night that called for booze, it's this one."

"Agreed," Merle grunted, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. "I mean, shit, I seen some crazy stuff in ma time, but that was a hell of a way to wrap up a town meetin'."

Daryl dropped onto the couch beside me, sighing as he rubbed a hand over his face. He hadn't said much since we left the meeting. His eyes had that sharp, assessing look - taking everything in, processing, waiting for the next blow to come. He still reached over for me though, pulling me close and discreetly checking my stitches at the same time.

Rick stood in the center of the room, still covered in dried blood, his expression unreadable. The only indication that he felt anything at all was the muscle twitching in his jaw.

Maggie was pacing, her hands on her hips. "This isn't just gonna go away. Deanna gave the order, but she was grieving - people will question it."

"Let 'em," Abraham said, dropping into a chair. "Better Pete got put down before he went on another rampage. He was a loose cannon."

"Yeah, but so are we, as far as they're concerned," Glenn pointed out. "We've been here, what, a couple weeks? And in that time, we've caused havoc, gotten in fights, and now Rick just executed one of their own in full view."

A beat of silence followed.

Michonne sighed, fingering the katana she'd swiped from the scene. "He wasn't one of their own. He was an abuser."

"That don't matter to people who wanna point fingers," Merle said, shaking his head. "Ain't about what's right."

I glanced at Daryl, who had his head down, fingers absently tapping against his knee. I nudged him lightly. "What you thinking?"

He let out a slow breath. "Thinkin' we might not have a choice but to take this place."

Rick's eyes flickered to him, and I didn't miss the way his fingers tightened around his belt.

"Maybe we don't have to," Beth chimed in, kicking her boots up onto the coffee table. "Deanna wanted Pete gone. Maybe she backs us."

Maggie shook her head. "She might, but that doesn't mean everyone else will. And even if they do, this place isn't ready for the world we live in."

Rick finally spoke, his voice quiet but firm. "Then we get them ready."

The room fell silent again.

I folded my arms. "And what if they don't wanna be?"

Rick looked at me, his expression serious. "Then they won't survive."

Something about the way he said it sent a chill down my spine.

Carol reappeared then, dropping a couple of bottles on the table. "Well, whatever happens, we should be prepared.

A few of us didn't hesitate. I grabbed a bottle, taking a swig before handing it off to Daryl, who did the same.

Abraham lifted his own drink. "To Rick motherfuckin' Grimes. Most dramatic entrance at a town meeting I ever saw."

A few weak chuckles broke the tension, but it didn't last. The reality of our situation loomed over us.

This wasn't over. Not even close.

But my mind wasn't on Pete. Or Reg. Or even the fallout we were about to face. It was on the man who had arrived with Aaron. The one who had looked at Rick like he knew him.

I leaned forward, elbows resting on my thighs. "Rick."

He glanced over, eyes sharp but distant.

"That guy with Aaron. He knew you."

The room quieted a little, all eyes shifting to Rick - whose fingers twitched against his arm. He was quiet for a second too long before he finally spoke.

"His name's Morgan." His voice was even, but there was something in it. Something weighted. "He saved my life when this all started."

That got my attention. I frowned. "Saved your life?"

Rick exhaled, finally moving to sit on the armrest of a chair, rubbing a hand over his mouth. "First day. After I woke up in the hospital. I had no idea what the world was. No idea what had happened. I walked right into the middle of it, nearly got myself killed. Morgan and his son, Duane, found me. Took me in. Kept me alive."

He looked down for a second, then back up, gaze flickering to Carl, who was listening intently from his spot beside Michonne.

"I tried to get them to come to Atlanta with me," Rick continued. "Said he wasn't ready." He paused, eyes darkening. "I found him again, later. When Michonne, Carl, and I went looking for weapons to fight the Governor."

Michonne crossed her arms, nodding. "It was Morgan's guns we came back with."

Merle snorted. "So we had some insane bastard to thank for that haul?"

I narrowed my eyes. "Why insane?"

Rick hesitated, as if choosing his words carefully. "He... wasn't the same. He'd lost Duane. Lost everything. He'd barricaded himself in a building and set traps everywhere. Was killing anything and anyone that came near. He wasn't just surviving - he was gone."

Daryl finally lifted his head. "He still like that?"

Rick shook his head. "Doesn't seem like it. He's... different now. More in control. He told me all life is precious." He scoffed a little, like he wasn't sure whether to believe it.

A quiet settled over us as we all considered that.

"So what're we doin' with him?" Abraham asked, leaning back in his chair.

Rick looked around the room, then met my gaze. "We separate him. Keep him somewhere else for now. Make sure he's really not the man he was last time."

I nodded. "Probably smart."

Merle stretched his legs out, shaking his head. "Man comes walkin' in talkin' about life bein' precious after survivin' alone all this time? That's a red flag."

Carl frowned. "Maybe he just changed."

"Maybe," I said, but I wasn't sure.

The world didn't let people just change. It broke them, and sometimes, if they were lucky, they got to piece themselves back together. But not without scars.

Morgan was a question mark. And right now, we couldn't afford any more unknowns.

The house was quiet when we finally made it to our room. The weight of the night clung to us like a second skin, thick and suffocating. I still felt the echo of Rick's gunshot, the horror in Deanna's eyes as her husband bled out, the way the Alexandrians had recoiled from us like we were monsters.

Daryl shut the door behind us, sighing heavily as he ran a hand through his hair. His shoulders were tight, tension written into every line of his body.

I moved first, reaching for him. He let me, stepping into my touch as I slid my arms around his waist.

"You okay?" I murmured against his chest.

His chin rested on top of my head. "Mhmh," he grunted. His voice was rough, strained. "Wonderin' if things are gon' go south."

"Yeah." I closed my eyes, breathing him in. The scent of leather, gunpowder, sweat, and something distinctly him - comforting, stabilizing. "I guess we'll find out tomorrow."

"Yeah," he echoed, but it wasn't agreement. It was just exhaustion. The last few days had really taken a toll on him.

I tilted my head up, pressing a soft kiss under his jaw. His arms tightened around me in response, hands warm on my back.

"Come to bed," I whispered. "Let's get comfy."

He didn't need convincing. He stripped down to his underwear - me changing into just the old shirt of his I slept in - climbing under the covers together. As soon as I curled into his chest, his arms wrapped around me, pulling me close. The warmth of him seeped into my skin, and I breathed him in, feeling safe.

I traced idle patterns over his chest - loving that he no longer felt the need to hide his scars from me - and listened to the steady rise and fall of his breath.

His hand slid up and down my spine in slow, absent motions.

"I love you," I murmured.

Daryl pressed a kiss to my forehead. "I love ya too."

We laid like that for a while, wrapped up in each other, but my body ached for more. Not just the closeness - we already had that - but the connection, the feeling of being his.

I shifted against him, pressing a soft kiss to his collarbone, then another, lower this time. My fingers brushed down his stomach, feeling the slight tremor beneath my touch.

Daryl stiffened. "Ath..."

I smiled against his skin. "I'm fine."

He let out a slow breath, his fingers ghosting over my side, near the bandage covering my wound. "Yur still hurt."

I leaned up, looking into his eyes. "I feel fine."

His jaw clenched. His hand found my hip, holding me still. "Ain't gonna risk hurtin' ya."

His words were firm, but his body betrayed him. Pressed against my thigh, I could feel just how much he wanted me.

I arched a brow, lips curving. "Doesn't feel like you don't want me."

A flush crept up his neck. "Ain't about that." His fingers tightened on my hip. "Ain't gonna let ya push yourself when ya still healin'."

His rejection stung, but not because I thought he didn't want me. It was because I knew he did. He just loved me more than he wanted me, and that kind of love wasn't something I could ever be mad about.

I cupped his face, my thumb brushing over the stubble on his jaw. "I know you're cautious," I whispered. "But I need you."

His throat bobbed. His grip on me was still firm, still resisting, but the way he was looking at me - like I was the only thing in the world - made my chest ache.

I leaned in, kissing him slowly, deeply. He made a low sound against my lips, his hesitation crumbling. His hands slid up my sides, careful, delicate. When he kissed me back, it was deliciously slow and aching with tenderness.

I shifted, guiding his hand down to my thigh, urging him closer. His fingers tightened, gripping me like he was still half-fighting himself.

"Tell me if it hurts," he murmured against my lips.

I nodded, knowing it wouldn't. Not with him.

I reached for protection from the drawer beside the bed, biting my lip as I handed it to him.

He moved carefully, positioning himself between my legs, his body hovering over mine. His fingers traced the edge of my bandage, then pressed gently over the wound. Not to hurt, not to restrain - just to hold. To protect.

I kissed him again, wrapping my arms around his neck, pulling him to me. When he finally entered me, it was slow, deliberate. Every movement was careful, every touch a silent reassurance. He was holding me together in more ways than one.

His breath was ragged against my skin, his body warm and solid against mine. I could feel the restraint in him, the way he fought to keep control, to be gentle.

"Feels so good," I whispered, running my fingers through his hair.

His grip on me tightened, a quiet shudder running through him. He kissed me again, his lips lingering against mine as we moved together. Every motion was slow, unrushed - just feeling.

The quiet growls in his chest as he rocked drove me wild. I could see it in his eyes as they locked onto mine - he thought he'd never get to do this to me again. He thought I was gone, but I wasn't, I was here, beneath him.

When we finally reached that peak, coming together, it wasn't a desperate, frenzied moment. It was soft. Intimate. Like we were the only two people in the world. His eyes never left mine as he revelled in my release, his body pulsing as he found his own climax - breathing my name.

After, he held me, his hand still resting over my wound, his body warm against mine.

I kissed his jaw, my heart still racing. "Told you I was fine."

Daryl huffed a quiet laugh, his fingers brushing through my hair. "Can't resist ya."

I smiled, pressing closer. He wrapped his arms around me tighter, holding me like he never wanted to let go.

We didn't know what was coming tomorrow - whether we'd be caught up in a war for Alexandria, fighting to stay - but lying here with him, safe, in this bed, in our room in a house we shared with family - I knew that if we were forced into battle. It would be absolutely worth it.

A/N: Thank you as always for yiur votes and comments. They mean the world! ❤️