A few notes from missCanary

Disclaimer: I own no characters, settings, or storylines from The Walking Dead. Nothing.

Thank you to those who reviewed! It helps to know I still have people rooting for me. It makes this story twice as exciting to write!

xoxoxo

Scarlett

The morning was mild and sunny; frankly, perfect; but Scarlett refused to open her eyes. She'd slept like a corpse, dreamless and hard. Now, peace blanketed her like a high, a type of peace she hadn't felt in years. Since before the boys died, she realized. Scarlett decided that she might coast along in her daze all day, so long as the group let her.

"Y'awake lil bird?"

A small smile found her lips. I should know better. "Mm," she replied simply, feeling Shane's eyes on her still form. His body stretched against her. Heat radiated off the man's frame, serving only to melt Scarlett further into her blankets.

"Had a dream," he murmured.

"'Bout what?" Sky asked, eyes still closed comfortably.

"Jessica Stewart." Humor edged in his voice with the unexpected answer, and a confused smile lit across Scarlett's face.

"Who?"

"Aw c'mon, you don't remember Ol' Jessica Stewart?" Shane's arm draped heavily over Scarlett's naked stomach. She took to tracing his bulging veins absently with her fingers.

"I couldn't always keep track of your fangirls," She yawned, sneaking a peak at Shane's face.

Shane chuckled. "Well you'll remember this one. Think PD Christmas party, 'bout four years ago."

Scarlett thought for a moment. "You mean the girl who slapped you in front of the chief?"

Bingo." She felt him smile against her shoulder. "I never did tell you why she slapped me."

Scarlett scooted lower, cocooning herself against Shane's chest. "You told me you dumped her." She kissed his skin absently, causing the man's grip to tighten around her waist.

"'Course I told ya that; but nah, she dumped me."

"You don't get dumped," Scarlett scoffed, playing along.

"Well I sure's shit did that night," he drawled with a smile. "Y'remember goin' shot for shot with me'n Flynn?"

Sky shuddered at the thought, mostly remembering the next morning. "Well I wasn't about to turn down the head of the drug unit; not with how badly you and Rick wanted on." Memories of that night reappeared slowly, making Scarlett smile. Back when the world was still the world.

"'N then ya pulled the chief's wife up onto a table and made her dance with you." Scarlett chuckled, remembering the chief's quiet plea to help involve his reserved wife in the party. God I was drunk.

"There's a reason I kept my party nights few and far between."

Shane snorted. "I don' think you need remindin' that you were always the life of the party at those goddamn events. More'n Ol' Shane over here, an' we both know I used to be a knucklehead."

Scarlett shook her head, dismissing the praise. "What does this have to do with Jessica Stewart, though?"

"Well Jessica," Shane propped up on an elbow, looking down at Sky. "She had a habit of comparin' herself to you. Dunno if I ever told ya that. Real insecure, an' real bitchy; always tryin' to boss me around." Scarlett couldn't disagree; she remembered Jessica as an entitled one, way too young in her personality to bond with their group. Scarlett tried to forget Shane's frequent recounts of his nights with Jessica; always graphic, and an obvious attempt to rationalize why he continued to date her. She always laughed it off, but even back then Sky didn't enjoy hearing about Shane Walsh with other women.

"Anyways," he continued, "she got fed up with me singin' your praises; didn't like me carryin' on with you all night, nevermind Rick bein' right in the damn middle of it with us. So we argued back by the bar, me bein' a drunk fuck an' her bein' a damn buzzkill. Finally she said 'Well I'm sorry I can't be more like Scarlett, maybe you should just find someone perfect like her,' and before I could stop m'self, I said 'Well that ain't fuckin' possible; believe me, I'm waitin' my turn.'"

Scarlett's eyes opened wide now, and she craned her neck to see Shane's face. "You didn't." He merely nodded, looking both guilty and amused with himself. The unspoken rule between Rick and Shane, something Scarlett had only been subconsciously aware of; don't ever mention how Shane felt about Scarlett. She'd been oblivious back then, hoping more than thinking that Shane's feelings had cooled off after their college years. "Did Rick hear you say that?"

"Nah," he said casually. "Saw her slap the ever living shit outta me, though." His cheeky grin beamed down at the small blonde, as if he were the tiniest bit proud of his work. "Maybe tha's why you got the odd look or two from the chief after that, though. Was too drunk to realize he was standin' right next to me."

Scarlett rolled to her back, thinking. "Jessica Stewart," she repeated, shaking her head. She wasn't thinking about Jessica at all, however. The complexity of their former life swirled up in memory, always fueled by a simple tugging in her gut. The feeling, hardly a prick of adrenaline, never subsided in Scarlett, even in her marriage to Rick. She'd been so happy, blissfully happy even, and still the sight of Shane drew that tiny clenching feeling in her stomach, like there was something untold about their story. All of the horrific shit from last week left Scarlett with overwhelming gratitude, that she had the privilege to lay in a tent next to the man, lazily reminiscing about their past. "If you hadn't found me, Shane…"

"I'd be suckin' on a pistol," he deadpanned.

The solidity of his response surprised Sky. He kissed her then, sliding over her and letting his hand drift across her stomach. "You tell me t'pick that night at the Christmas party or right now, in this hellhole," he murmured, moving to her neck. "Gonna pick hellhole."

He hovered over her with just the weight of his arms. Scarlett pressed into him, keeping their lips together and her fingers grasping his shoulder blades. Sounds of the camp drifted all around them, members of the group only feet away, but she didn't care. He moved slightly and she rocked her hips, encouraging him to keep going. Shane groaned slightly into her lips, trying to stay quiet, and she smiled as his head dropped to rest on her shoulder.

"Don't wanna hurt you," he breathed, an arm now clamped around her small waist.

"I want it," she whispered, trying to stay inconspicuous to the group. She wanted to feel Shane all around her, inside and out. She wished it was only because she loved him utterly and completely, and she did; but it was also to erase the insidious feeling of guilt settled in her empty gut. Daryl pricked the back of her mind, both the events of two nights ago and her sadness over his absence settling heavily on her conscience. "C'mon, baby," she pressed, pressing herself onto his length slowly. His body betrayed him; she knew how badly he wanted it. The man was rigid inside her.

He thrust the rest of the way quickly, holding them together as Scarlett's breath hitched in his ear. "You really gon' make me do this quietly?" Amy's short bark of laughter drifted from somewhere nearby, adding to his concerns. Scarlett nodded her head, letting the fire in her eyes do the talking. Fuck me now. He gave her a lopsided smile and shook his head slightly. "Yes ma'am."

He slid in and out of her slowly, trying to be quiet and generally succeeding. Scarlett did the same, biting her lip when he hooked an arm around her leg, deepening the angle. The slowness of their rhythm had her throbbing around him, regretting her choice to do it unassumingly in the tent.

"You really shoulda let me take you to the woods," Shane admonished almost silently in her ear, biting it lightly. "Need t'hear your voice; pick you up; flip you over. Gotta see every inch of you."

"You'll just have to settle for feeling," she whispered, biting his neck gently in return. They focused, then; rocking together as intensely as they could without making noise. The murmur of the camp only served to arouse Scarlett more, knowing how easily they could be caught. She stayed silent this time because she wanted to; not because their lives depended on it. That delicious high began to build in her abdomen, mirrored by the tighter grip and more forceful thrust of Shane's hips.

Without warning, the orgasm exploded out of her. She arched into Shane, squeezing her eyes shut as she struggled to keep herself silent. Shane continued to fuck her, and soon he, too, tensed above her without so much as a groan.

He collapsed on top of her, panting. Scarlett lay there, marveling at how exhausted she immediately was. Her legs felt like jelly, on the verge of cramping if she didn't find the energy to flex them. Shane's weight felt comfortable on her empty stomach, easing the growing awareness of how hungry she was.

After a moment, he stirred. "You gon' let me do that right, later on." Shane pulled up and planted a rough kiss on the small survivor's lips.

"That wasn't right?" She breathed, wiggling her toes. They still tingled from the orgasm.

"A precursor," he drawled with a grin, sitting up.

A set of footprints crunched in the dying grass outside their tent. "Shane," Andrea barked from outside. "You awake?"

Shane sighed impatiently, glancing back at still-naked Scarlett. Scarlett shrugged, uninterested in dressing yet. "Yeah," he clipped, loud enough for Andrea to hear.

"When you come out, we need to have a talk about Herschel."

Daryl

"Daryl…hey, Darleena!" Daryl blinked, tearing his eyes away from the fire. "Them carpies ain't gonna fry themselves, brother!" He shook a stray lock away from his face, eyeing the small pile of gutted fish warily. Fuckin' hate fish.

Begrudgingly, the younger Dixon snatched up a silvery filet and tossed it onto their makeshift grill, squinting out over the sunny quarry water. The sun seemed even brighter since he last looked up. What the hell had he been thinking about?

It'd started with his bike, the poor baby still waiting for him at the garage. He craved that deep rumble, the numbing vibration of the engine beneath his hands. Thinking about the garage, though, his mind had eventually drifted to Scarlett; that damn blonde broad.

Daryl didn't really want reminding of how much he'd pussied out last night. Running, no, hauling ass up the damn trail after hearing some kind of commotion up top, only to find Scarlett rolling around in the damn grass with Shane Walsh. The sight left him… feeling shit. Daryl sniffed, uninterested in delving into whatever fucking emotion it was; rage? Jealousy? Disappointment?

It's not like it mattered, anyway. They drove off to some farm down the road. "Left on Co. Rd 67; drive 5 miles, can't miss it," Shane had said. Walsh gave him the obligatory "thanks for saving my girl" handshake and whisked her away, just like that. The exhaust cloud practically screamed "don't follow us!" And there Dixon was; a pussy. Standing all alone in the dark, Scarlett as gone as civilization.

He flipped the fish with a stick, eyes straining against the blinding light. Merle nursed a flash and cleaned his gun, humming some tune.

Daryl couldn't remember the last time he'd been close to someone, never mind an entire group of people. Group aside, the hunter really only came to care about one person anyway. She'd been easy enough to talk to at the camp; a decent hunter, if not a little too fucking loud in the woods. She didn't look away with fear when he walked by, like fucking Amy, that old man Dale. Then there was the whole being-stuck-in-a-garage-for-a-week thing. He'd had no damn choice but to grow a tiny attachment to the girl.

Now, feeling her absence, Daryl remembered why Dixons kept to themselves. The fuck is that bullshit, anyway. I save the girl, keep her alive, 'n don't get more'n a damn 'thank you'. He actively avoided the thought of their last night in the garage, shifting his weight a bit. Can't be held responsible for a drunk fuck. The iron first around his stomach said otherwise, though, and it infuriated Daryl. He didn't need to sit around missing girls, daydreaming like a Nancy; especially not another man's girl.

The hunter picked up his fish gingerly and tossed it at Merle. "Aye. Finish your shit; let's go get my bike."

Merle took a long swig from the flask. "Gettin' a little stir crazy, brother?"

Daryl popped a cigarette into his mouth, one of the last ones he had. "Hot as fuck down here; ain't got nothin' else to do."

"May as well pick up that ammo back at the military site. Go get a lil target practice in on them geeks, eh?"

Daryl shrugged, neither agreeing or disagreeing. He just wanted to get away from the quarry.

They walked in relative silence, casually tracking whatever looked promising on the way. Daryl welcomed the shadowy forest, which was a good 20 degrees cooler than the quarry water. They backtracked carefully, keeping north.

"Bike first," Daryl muttered. "Tired of spendin' all damn day walking." Merle had stashed his own bike near the garage, both abandoned in the haste to get away from the wreckage.

"Tell yeh what," Merle mused, "This the first time we been alone like this since the ol' Holy Reckoning. Like ol' times, stomping through the woods."

Daryl snorted, thinking back to their younger days of pissing off to the woods for days at a time. "Guess so. 'Cept now we ain't avoidin' cops."

"Well I ain't avoidin' no pigs. Dunno about you though, brother." Daryl felt Merle nudge his shoulder, always pushing the younger man's buttons.

"Fuck off. I ain't avoidin' shit."

"Like hell you ain't. Turnin' down a warm bed, hot meal, socializin' or whatever."

Daryl studied his brother with narrowed eyes. "Since when you think I care about any o' that shit?" The younger Dixon spent years trailing Merle, following him into the "fuck you" nomad lifestyle. He remembered going days without saying a word, not even to Merle; there just wasn't a need to talk.

"'Cause I know you, Daryl! I'm a Dixon whisperer." His yellowing teeth gleamed in a cheeky grin. "You ain't like me. You actually got a soul. I ain't gon' bump elbows with a buncha yuppies because I don't have to. You ain't gon' do it 'cause you can't. Ol' Ice Queen out there'd make it too damn hard."

Daryl hated when Merle got this way. The more the man drank, the more fucking philosophical he got. "You chargin' a fuckin' fee for this session or what?"

The older man chuckled, aiming his shotgun around lazily. He seemed about to respond, when a hard POP POP POP resonated from somewhere east of them.

"Idiot needs a silencer on that gun," Daryl muttered, paying little attention to the noise. He was mildly irritated, though, now that the game would be spooked. "Ain't gon' catch shit with rounds poppin' off like that."

Merle whistled to himself and stopped Daryl. "Military site first, brother. Thinkin' that's where them shots came from."

"Y'think?"

"Straight east. Only thing worth shootin' over, down there."

Merle seemed to perk up, excited by the prospect of a conflict. Daryl followed without a word, summoning whatever energy he could find. After a night spent laying on gravel, mulling over his interaction with Shane and Scarlett, he didn't have much to draw from. "No stormin' the place, Merle. Be smart about shit for fuckin' once."

"Yeah, no promises."

He quickly calculated that the herd would draw back east if it heard the shots, avoiding the farm behind them altogether. Daryl couldn't figure why that fact was so comforting. Rather, he didn't want to figure. Still, walking toward the shots put him on edge, and he desperately wished he had another pack of cigarettes. "I'm serious. Stay low."

I'm setting up for the next big twists and turns in this story. Hope y'all liked it! Some tamer smut than usual, but still smut nonetheless ;)

xoxoxo