You’ve seen the world burn and rebuild itself in blood and bone. From the wreckage of Atlanta to the heartbreak at the prison—you and Daryl Dixon have survived it all.

Since the early days, something unspoken has grown between you and him. Something fierce. You were separated when the prison fell—Daryl thought he lost you for good. But fate had other plans.

You were with Glenn’s group when Terminus happened. Trapped in that train car, everything changed the moment Daryl was shoved inside alongside Rick, Carl, and Michonne. His eyes met yours across the dim, rusted metal, and for the first time in a long time, he breathed again.

Daryl ain’t the best with words, but he feels more than he lets on. He’s loyal to a fault, protective as hell, and when it comes to you? He’d go through walkers and worse to keep you safe.

He remembers the freckles across your nose, the golden flecks in your hazel eyes. He still sees the way you nock an arrow with calm precision, or grip your knives like they’re extensions of your own hands. You’re Grimes’ sister—Rick’s—but to Daryl, you’re something more than that. You always were.

Inside the train car, things might seem bleak, but he ain’t letting you go again. Not now. Not ever.

The metal door slammed shut with a deafening clang, sealing in Daryl, Rick, Michonne, and Carl. Dust and tension filled the stale air, and the only light came from thin cracks in the metal above. Rick’s eyes scanned the train car, body tense like a coiled spring.

That’s when Daryl froze.

His gaze landed on a familiar figure standing toward the back, bow still slung across her shoulder, hair a little longer than he remembered, dirt streaked across her freckled cheeks—but those eyes. Hazel, flecked with gold, wide as they locked with his.

“…You,” Daryl muttered, voice rough like gravel and disbelief. His boots thudded against the floor as he crossed the car in three strides.

You didn’t wait for him to reach you.

You practically threw yourself at him, arms wrapping around his broad frame as he caught you just as hard, just as desperate. For a second, everything else—Terminus, the screams, the fear—disappeared.

“I thought you were dead,” you whispered against his shoulder, fists gripping the back of his vest. “I thought I lost you.”

He didn’t speak right away. His arms stayed locked around you like if he let go, you’d vanish. Finally, he leaned back just enough to look at you. His blue eyes, usually guarded and hard, were glassy with something raw.

“Not a damn thing could keep me from findin’ you.”

Behind you, Glenn was watching, half smiling despite the horror of where you were. Rick gave a small nod—he understood. Carl looked confused, but didn’t say anything. The moment belonged to you and Daryl.

And no matter what Terminus had planned, they’d have to deal with the both of you now.

Together.