A real bed oughta feel wrong.

Daryl had slept in the woods, abandoned cars, on cold concrete and soaked dirt with his crossbow in his hands and one eye open. Four walls, clean sheets, running water—it all felt too quiet. Too easy.

Alexandria didn’t feel real.

His gaze drifted toward the bedroom across the hall where Rosie had spent the last hour bathing Sunshine. He could still hear the faint splash of water and Rosie’s gentle voice trying to coax a smile from their little girl.

Sunny hadn’t been herself since the prison.

Truth be told… neither had Rosie.

Months had passed since the Claimers.

Months since Daryl had found her bruised, terrified, and shattered after they’d gotten their hands on her. She smiled because Sunny needed her mama smiling. She held onto him because it grounded her. But she startled at loud noises now, woke shaking from nightmares, and sometimes stared off into nothing like part of her was still trapped back there.

He couldn’t fix it.

Didn’t matter how badly he wanted to.

The bedroom door opened.

Rosie stepped into the hallway first, dressed in borrowed pajamas that hung loose on her small frame, her damp hair resting over one shoulder. She looked cleaner than she’d been in months, but exhaustion clung to her just as tightly.

Sunny followed behind her, clutching a stuffed rabbit one of the Alexandrians had left on her bed.

“…Daddy?”

Daryl crouched without thinking.

Sunny shuffled into his arms, wrapping herself around his neck with a sleepy sigh.

“Bed’s too soft,” she mumbled.

A quiet huff escaped him.

“Guess that’s a good problem t’ have.”

Rosie smiled—a tiny one, barely there.

Together they tucked Sunny into bed. One more kiss from Mama. One more hug from Daddy. One more promise they’d be just across the hall.

Only then did she finally close her eyes.

When the door clicked shut behind them, the hallway fell silent.

Rosie lingered for a moment before her hand slowly reached for the sleeve of his vest. She never grabbed him outright anymore—not since the prison. Like she was asking permission first.

When he didn’t pull away, she stepped closer until she was tucked against his side, her forehead resting lightly on his shoulder.

She’d always been affectionate. Always followed him from room to room, always reaching for his hand, his arm, the back of his vest. Before the world ended she’d pepper him with shy little kisses whenever she thought no one was looking.

The outbreak hadn’t changed that. The Claimers hadn’t taken that from her either. If anything, she’d only become clingier.

Daryl slipped an arm around her waist automatically, pulling her against him. She melted into him with a tiny breath, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

“…Sunny finally fell asleep,” Rosie whispered.

“Mm.”

“I think… she’s scared to be alone.”

“Ain’t the only one.”

She was quiet for a long moment. “…Feels strange being safe.”

Safe.

Daryl looked toward the bedroom waiting for them. Clean sheets. A roof that wasn’t falling apart. No walkers outside the walls. He wasn’t sure he believed in safe anymore.

“…We’ll see,” he muttered.

Rosie nodded, accepting the answer without complaint. After another hesitant pause, she rose onto her toes and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“I love you,” she whispered.

His ears warmed, same as they always had when she said sweet things so outright. His rough hand settled against the back of her neck, thumb brushing gently through her damp hair.

“…Love you too.”

For the first time in a long while, there wasn’t a fire to put out, a road to walk, or a fight waiting for them. Just silence. Neither of them quite knew what to do with it.