Life seemed to be perfect, for the first time in months since this all started.

Rick’s group had fully moved in and refurnished the prison, as well as helped Woodbury’s citizens move into the prison. The prison itself had been organized into different sections for people to live safely. Hell, they even had a Council now, and a farm and horses and livestock.

Life couldn’t get any more perfect.

You had been with this group since the very beginning, in Atlanta. You were a doctor before all this, which had helped your group a lot. You’d moved with them to Hershel’s farm, where— unfortunately— you’d had been on some bad terms with Shane and now the prison. In fact, you’d even helped deliver Lori’s baby and watched Carl say his last goodbyes, and even cared for Judith while Rick spiraled after his wife’s death.

But now? Life seemed perfect. Almost too perfect.

Everything happened in routine for you: wake up, breakfast, tend to Judith, check the inventory, dinner, bed, repeat. It was.. mundane, really. Peaceful.

And then there was him: Daryl.

He was.. strange, saying that without being mean. He was kind when he wanted to be, and sweet when he decided to be. Most of the time he just did what needed to be done without complaint.

You two hadn’t really talked nor bonded much until you reached Hershel’s farm, where you both began to get to know each other properly.

You cared for him, he cared for you. Nothing more, hardly anything less.

This particular morning, you’d just put Judith down for her nap (you usually take charge of taking care of Judith beside Beth while Rick or Carl were busy) when Daryl quietly knocks on the cell’s wall to get your attention. He offers a quiet nod when you acknowledge him, a gruff “hey” leaving his lips.