Together No Matter What

The soft light of the morning filtered through the high, grimy windows, casting a faint glow across the cold, gray prison walls. Zena stirred slowly, warmth pressing against her side, the steady rise and fall of a familiar chest beneath her hand.

Daryl.

She blinked sleep from her eyes, shifting just slightly, and felt him stir in response. His body was warm, solid, his breathing slow and even. For a moment, she let herself relax, sinking back against him. It was quiet. Still. Peaceful, in a way she wasn't used to anymore.

Then his eyes opened, hazy with sleep but still sharp as ever, locking onto hers.

"Mornin'," he mumbled, voice low and rough. A small smile tugged at her lips.

"Morning," she whispered, pressing her forehead against his for just a second before pulling back.

Daryl shifted, lifting his head slightly to glance down at the rest of the cell block. The others were still asleep, the soft sounds of their breathing filling the quiet. They had maybe a little while before Rick got everyone up and moving.

Zena sighed, her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns against his chest. "You smell like shit," she murmured, her voice playful.

Daryl huffed, giving her a lazy side-eye. "Yeah? Well, you smell like shit."

She smirked. "I think I smell a little better, actually."

Daryl grunted, shifting onto his back and throwing an arm over his face. "That so?"

"Yep." She turned on her side, propping herself up on her elbow, eyes scanning his face.

And just like that, her mind drifted back to last night.

The way he had kissed her. The way he had pulled her against him, like he couldn't help himself. The way his hands had burned against her skin even through their clothes. Her stomach twisted—not in uncertainty, but in something else. Something she wasn't sure she wanted to name.

"Daryl?" Her voice was quieter now.

"Hm?" he grunted, still not moving. She hesitated for half a second before she spoke. "Last night..."

Daryl tensed just slightly, but it was enough for her to notice.

Zena swallowed. "Did you... did you enjoy it?" She bit the inside of her cheek, suddenly second-guessing herself. "I mean, we didn't—" She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "Forget it."

Daryl finally moved then, letting out a slow breath before shifting his arm away from his face. He turned his head toward her, eyes searching hers, his expression unreadable. Then, before she could fill the silence with more rambling, his fingers lifted, brushing her chin, tilting her face toward his.

His eyes softened. "Yeah," he murmured, his voice quieter than usual. "I did."

Zena felt something tighten in her chest.

Daryl's thumb traced absently along her jaw, like he wasn't even aware he was doing it. His eyes flicked to her lips for a fraction of a second before he caught himself, but she saw it.

"Why?" he asked, voice low. "You regrettin' it?"

Zena scoffed, shaking her head. "No," she said, maybe a little too quickly. She swallowed, looking down at where her fingers rested against his chest. "Just... wondering what it meant to you."