Chapter Eighteen

The smell of blood clung to Daniela, heavy, coppery and cloying. Hershel sat stooped over Merle's unconscious body, stitching his wound by lantern light. Daryl paced back and forth in front of the cell stopping once every few seconds to glance in. Daniela's arm ached from holding the lights steady for him, but she didn't dare adjust. The rest of the prison was quiet, the other's speaking in whispers as if their voices would send Merle into the grips of death. Every so often Hershel would pause his ministrations to feel for a pulse, before wiping his red stained hands across his sweaty brow.

Daniela's own hands were covered with blood from where she attempted to stem the flow from his wound when they sat crouched in an open field as a hail of bullets rained down on them. Her neck, face, and some of her torso were splattered with it too. She feared she'd never be able to wash the stink off her. Some of it was her own. Most of the stinging had died down, and after a cursory glance Daniela deemed in nothing more than a graze. She still kept her body angled carefully away from prying eyes. In the dark, covered in so much of Merle's blood, the dark red stain painting the side of her thigh was easy to miss.

Hershel leaned back and he nodded to Daniela. She set the lantern down on the floor beside the prison cot and Daryl was immediately by her side. Exhaustion showed clearly on Hershel's face, but his grim expression kept her from voicing her concern.

"Is he..?" Daryl said, his voice raw in a way she'd never heard before.

Hershel sighed, "He's alive, but he's not out of the woods yet. You're brother's lost a lot of blood, I'm worried he could go into hypovolemic shock." Daryl's jaw clenched, Daniela reached out and gently placed her hand on his arm, it was the only comfort she could offer him. "Is there any chance you know his blood type?"

Daryl shook his head. He pulled slightly out of Daniela's grasp and ran his hands through his hair. "Do you think I could give him some?"

Hershel shook his head, "Sadly without knowing his blood type we could end up doing a lot more harm than good. It looks like we'll just have to wait this one out. Plenty of men and women have made it out of worse." In fully equipped facilities with surgeons trained for this exact scenario was the thought that crept through Daniela's head.

Daryl's face was unreadable. A thought occurred to Daniela as she looked at Merle's unconscious face, pale and slick with sweat. She gasped, both men's eyes went to her. "I can." She said. Daryl and Hershel glanced at each other and she continued, "I cut myself once on a rusty wire hopping a fence. It wasn't bad but the doctor wanted my blood type just in case. O negative, that's universal right?"

"You never thought to mention this before?" Herschel asked, his white eyebrows furrowing.

"It never mattered before." Daniela shrugged glancing at Daryl. His face was unreadable.

Hershel's gaze flickered between Daryl and Daniela, "That should do it. I'll need supplies, there has to be an infirmary here, you should be able to find everything we need there."

Daryl and Hershel got swept into the specifics and Daniela let it turn into white noise as she studied Daryl. His shoulders were tense, and his hands curled into tight fists at his sides. His jaw was covered in a thin layer of scruff making him look unkempt. She supposed he alway looked unkempt, that was half of his charm. She wondered how it would feel to run her fingers along the light hair gathered on his jaw. She wanted to smooth his furrowed brow, the way he'd brushed away her tears so gently just hours before, but Daryl didn't crave touch the way she did. Didn't seek out comfort in someone else's arms. She settled for giving him a fleeting smile as he left the cell to recruit some of the others to helping him clear the infirmary.

She wanted to go with him, but then they'd see the blood on her jeans, and they might not let her go through with the transfusion. Hershel left to get himself a well deserved meal and Daniela sat down on the chair beside Merle's cot, taking up the watch. She felt a presence in the doorway and she turned her head to see Michonne watching her.

"You're going to do a transfusion." It was a statement, not a question.

Daniela still felt the need to answer her, "I know he tried to kill you, but I can't just let him die. He's Daryl's brother, he helped me in Woodbury."

Michonne's face was as unreadable as ever, she made Daniela uneasy for that reason. Whatever happened between her, Merle, and the Governor had her radiating rage at the mention of either man. Daniela liked to think she'd be a big enough person to forgive Merle in Michonne's position, but maybe it wasn't about being big enough. Anger like that never really went away, it just took a different shape, wrapped itself around your soul and squeezed until something gave. Michonne just looked at her.

"I think you've done enough for him." Was all she said as she disappeared back into the cell block. Her tone left Daniela wondering if Michonne had meant Merle.

It took Glenn and Daryl less than an hour to return, both smeared in stinking rot from the walkers. Glenn looked a little worse for wear as he tossed down the heavy canvas bag beside Daniela. "This asshole better be grateful." Glenn muttered.

"I wouldn't count on it." Daniela said smiling wryly at his retreating back.

Hershel hobbled into the room on his crutches followed closely by Daryl. They moved quickly getting Merle into position and Daniela's heart started beating in her chest as Hershel swabbed her arm with a cold antiseptic wipe. She turned her head away from the needle and she bit her lip as she felt it slide into her skin.

Daniela never enjoyed getting blood drawn, there was something so painfully unnatural about the sensation of blood draining out of you from a tiny needle. Daryl's eyes were fixed firmly on her face and not, to her surprise, on his brother. His gaze was intense, igniting tingles down Daniela's spine right to her gut. His eyes were burning holes in her as his brows furrowed and he opened his mouth, but no words escaped his lips. Daniela gave him a tight smile, it was meant to be reassuring, but Daryl started to sway.

She heard him cry out her name as her world faded to black.

Daniela was keenly aware of a swaying sensation, like when she went to the beach with her parents as a kid and spent the whole day swimming. As she lay in bed at night waiting for sleep to take her she could still feel the waves crashing against her, rocking her like a mother would. This particular wave had a name, and he smelled like gun oil, leather, and something more primal.

Her eyes felt like they were weighed down, and they resisted her clumsy attempts to pry them open. By the time her eyes were open and her vision cleared she stopped swaying. Daryl was carrying her bridal style, she could feel his broad hands on her. Her head was slumped against his chest close to his neck. She wouldn't be surprised if he could feel her breath on him. She had to resist the bizarre urge to bury her face there.

"Hey." she slurred and he looked down at her. "What happened?"

"You fainted." He said, his voice gruff.

"Oh." She responded lamely. She turned her head to look anywhere but his face. They were on the top level of the cellblock, which meant the swaying was from Daryl carrying her up the stairs. He kept moving heading towards her cell.

"At first we thought it was 'cause of the needle, but then Herschel saw your leg." Daryl ducked his head under the sheet covering her cell and he stood in the complete dark. "Why the hell didn't you say anything?" The words came out fast. He was pissed.

"I didn't want Hershel to say no." She murmured.

"You could've been hurt." Daryl said. He moved over to her bed and grunted as he set her down on the mattress.

She squirmed into a comfortable position as Daryl moved around her room and she felt something pull on her leg. Hershel had bandaged her up under her jeans. Without making the hole worse the only way he could have tended to her was without them. Her face burned and she didn't dare ask if Daryl was there for that.

He passed her a bottle and stood over her and she downed it in four long gulps. Tart sugary liquid rushed down her throat. It was a sports drink, from the powdered mix they'd saved for when they were running out of food. It kept them going in the winter when food was scarce. She didn't think they had any left, she never wanted to taste it again. She tossed the empty bottle into her dark cell and it bounced off the wall and rolled under her chair.

He turned to leave and her hand flew out catching him around the wrist. "Wait," She sputtered, "Are you mad?" She felt small asking it, like a child.

Daryl gently pulled his wrist out of her grip and he leaned over her yanking the thin blanket over her. "No, I'm not."

Relief crashed over her at the same time her soul crushing weariness did. Her eyes were closed and she was fast asleep before he moved another inch. She dreamed of blue eyes and calloused fingertips brushing along her cut cheek.

When Daniela woke she felt every single bruise, bump, and scratch she'd gotten in the last couple of days. She stood from her bed and shook out her stiff joints. Her arm was sore where Hershel has stuck her, and it was taped over with a cotton ball. She ripped it off wincing as the adhesive reluctantly parted with her skin. A new dark bruise lay beneath. She sighed, and resigned herself to being black and blue for the rest of her days on God's green earth.

She stripped out of her ruined jeans and shirt and scrubbed down every inch of her body with an old rag and a stale bottle of water. Thankfully most of the blood was dry when Daryl put her to bed, she wouldn't have to figure out a way to wash her blankets just yet. She brushed her teeth with a tiny dab of toothpaste and a mouthful of water. She still felt dirty, but at least now she could go about her day. She tied up the corner of her sheet as she left her cell letting daylight and air circulate through the dim room.

Carl was sitting at the table by the stairs with his little sister and Beth. Daniela smiled in greeting and Beth smiled back, Carl nodded, and the baby, who had recently been dubbed Judith, didn't react. Daniela wasn't sure they could even recognize faces at that age. She walked on and she slowed as she approached the cell where Merle had been the night before. Maggie stalked out of the room throwing a stained rag completely missing the trash can. Daniela raised her brows.

"I was standing in for my dad." Maggie explained, her scowl softening.

"Is Merle..?" Daniela asked.

"Oh he's fine." Her mouth twisted in disgust, "I was trying to change his bandages but he can rot for all I care." Daniela winced, Maggie continued, "Actually he's been asking for you."

"Really?" Daniela said her brows shooting almost into her hairline. He wasn't likely to thank her, but maybe giving him her blood had changed his tune. Or he wanted to talk to her about him trying to leave.

"Not by name." Maggie grimaced. Whatever he'd been calling her. Maggie wasn't comfortable repeating it.

"I'll take it from here." Daniela sighed.

"Knock yourself out." Maggie mumbled moving out of her way.

Daniela lingered in the doorway, and Merle looked up at her. He was perched up on the pillows with a book open on his lap. She frowned to keep the shock from her face, though she assumed she was unsuccessful from the way Mere's expression darkened. She assumed he heard the exchange between her and Maggie. Daniela moved further into the room and squatted down to pick up the first aid kit on the ground by his cot. Merle made no move to pick his book up, just watched her. She didn't expect to still see him in bed, but maybe the shootout took more out of him than she realized. He still looked pale.

She straightened and fixed him with a stare. "You call me a beaner again, to anyone, and I'll cut your fucking kneecaps off."

Merle's face split into a grin, his face a mix of mirth and approval and her skin crawled. "What about all that curse shit you was sayin' back at Woodbury."

Daniela dug through the box looking disinterested. "Curses work best when one person is dying, no point now." She pulled out a roll of bandages and a bottle of disinfectant and the smile slipped from Merle's face. "What did you want from me?" she asked, no longer able to contain her curiosity. Merle shifted, sitting up more and the sheet dropped exposing his bare chest. It was covered in layer of light curly hair. His muscles were more defined than she expected.

"You go through my things? My booze is missin'." He asked.

Her jaw went slack. "That's all you have to say to me?"

"You expectin' somethin else?" He drawled.

"I wouldn't be that stupid." She snarled setting the bandages and rubbing alcohol down roughly on the edge of the bed. If she wanted to reach his wound she'd have to reach across him, she would have preferred a walker at this point.

"Did you take it?" Merle gritted out.

"No. Between saving your ass from the Governor and walkers, and then saving your ass again," She eyed his exposed wound, it was a little inflamed around the edges, "I didn't really have the time."

"I didn't ask you to. If it weren't for you I wouldn'ta been shot in the first place." Merle said.

Daniela felt her temper climbing, she gritted her teeth and exhaled through her nose. "Well it's a good thing I didn't do it so you could thank me." She uncapped the bottle and leaned across him slightly, if he touched her, it was going right into his eyes.

Merle just kept his arm slack at his side and he watched her tip the bottle over the puckered flesh. He tensed but didn't react to the pain, he did however wince when she dabbed at it with a rag rougher than she needed to. "He ain't gonna thank you either." Merle muttered, his voice low.

She stiffly pulled back and busied herself with the roll of bandages. "I didn't do it for him either." When stopped him from leaving, that was for Daryl, when she bled into Merle, that was also for Daryl. But when she sat crouched over him in that field trying to stem the flow with her bare hands, when she dragged him through the grass get shot, that wasn't for Daryl.

Merle looked at her scanning her face, trying to weed out a lie. "Why?" He asked finally.

She met his eyes. "I don't know."

It was the truth, she should have left him lying there in the grass and got herself to cover, he was a dying man for all she knew. But there was a spark in Merle that she recognized in herself. Daniela grew up around men like him, hell, she'd grown up like him. She could recognise when someone else hadn't been given the same opportunities as her, when they hadn't been given a real chance like the rest of had a mother and a father that loved her, a sister she could turn to when she was too scared to go home. What did Merle have? He had Daryl, but sometimes it's not enough to get by.

And yet, Daryl managed. He was one of them, though and through. He was more than just Daniela's friend, she trusted him with her life, she trusted him with everything. The difference was Daryl tried, he cared about people, and she hoped he was starting to trust people. Merle didn't.

She stood leaving the bandages on the bed. Merle could bandage it himself, or he could wait for Hershel. She was done with him for the day. Michonne was right, she had done enough for Merle Dixon.

Merle was up and walking around soon enough, and made no obvious move to leave the prison. She felt a hint of satisfaction at that, though she guessed it might have had more to do with his injury than anything she'd said to him. He kept to himself mostly, sticking to empty areas of the prison and Daniela had to wonder how he got on so well in Woodbury with so many people. Maybe everyone on Woodbury was like him or the Governor, but from what Michonne said she doubted it. Most of them were good people, they just didn't want to look deeper when they had full bellies and a roof over their heads.

"Oh thank god," Beth said at Daniela's approach, "I'm about a minute away from wetting my pants." She held Judith out for Daniela to take her.

"Sorry, there were a few extra walkers at the fence, it took longer than I expected." She grabbed Judith from Beth and smiled at her as Beth nearly ran out of the room.

Judith started to cry and Daniela bounced her and shushed her, and she paced; a trick she picked up from Beth. As she settled, Daniela set her in the crate they were using as a crib, Beth's curly handwriting decorating the side.

She heard the outside door slide open then the gate followed by a commotion. Multiple people crowded into the small common room and for a heartbeat Daniela thought the gates were breached, but they weren't panicked voices. She lingered, torn between investigating and not leaving Judith alone. She could bring Judith but she just put her down to sleep. Beth reemerged and reading the dilemma on Daniela's face said, "I've got her."

Daniela didn't need to be told twice she darted quickly towards the common room and slowed as she recognized one of the voices as someone new, and someone old. "Where's Shane and Lori?" Her chest tightened and she stopped just inside the doorway out of view of most people in the room. Daryl glanced at her, his brows furrowed.

The voice continued. "Rick I'm so sorry…" She trailed off. "And the others? Daniela and Victoria, did they make it out."

Silence followed the question, Daniela could feel the indecision in the air. should they tell her? Did they have a right to? Could she be trusted? Daniela settled it herself by stepping into the room and locking eyes with Andrea. "I'm here." Daniela said quietly. She drifted towards the table Daryl sat on top of, he fussed with the fletching on his arrows. It was his nervous tick.

Andrea read the answer in her silence.

"I'm so sorry." She stepped forward and Daniela retreated a few steps. Andrea looked stirken for a moment but she covered it quickly as she changed the subject, "You all live here?" Someone's head bobbed in affirmation. Andrea moved towards the door to the cell block, "There? Can I go in?"

Rick moved in front of her reflexively. Andrea halted looking around the room, scanning faces, looking for an ally. She found none. Daniela kept her eyes glued to the arrow in Daryl's hand. Rick explained the attack on the prison, by her boyfriend.

"He said you fired first." Andrea said, her tone defensive.

"He's a liar." Daniela muttered, still not meeting Andrea's eyes. Her blood started thrumming in her ears. Her breaths grew shallow. She felt Daryl's eyes on her as he lowered his arrow.

"He killed one of the inmate here." Herschel said.

"We liked him too, he was one of us." Daryl added.

Daniela felt it, the place where she should say how the Governor had wronged her, but she couldn't bring herself to voice it out loud. By saying it to everyone she was making it real. She knew they guessed, but confirming their suspicions made it impossible to brush away to the back of her mind. Safe, where she didn't have to think about it.

Andrea shifted on her feet, "I came as soon as I could. I didn't even know you were in Woodbury until after the shootout." Andrea looked around, imploring someone to meet her halfway. "What happened, I left Atlanta with you people and now I'm the odd man out?"

"He beat Daniela, almost killed Michonne. He would have killed all of us." Glenn said bitterly, ripping Daniela's security right out from under her.

"No," Andrea faced Daniela, her mouth open in shock, "No he told me his men found you in the woods half-starved. They took you in."

Daniela folded her arms. "Like I said, he's a liar."

Daryl shifted his body, acting like a physical barrier between them under Andrea's gaze. Daniela hadn't realized she'd been creeping behind Daryl. Andrea started speaking, defending Woodbury and Philip. Daniela snorted humorlessly. For all she meant to them, Andrea had clearly picked her side. Andrea warned them of Woodbury's strength and nummbers.

"Look at all of you, haven't you lost enough?" Andrea pleaded.

"No offence Andrea," Daniela said, unable to keep the edge from her voice, "But you don't know us anymore, you have no idea what we're capable of." Daniela stared at her finally, and Andrea actually looked cowed under her dark glare. Merle, from the edge of the group, nodded ever so minutely. She hadn't noticed him standing there in the corner. She turned on her heel and walked out of the common room away from his appraising gaze.

Daniela waited in her cell until she heard them disperse. She crept down the back set of stairs around the guard tower into the common room, avoiding the rest of the reunion completely. Andrea spent a lot of her time getting acquainted with Judith. Spying on the pair from her cell, Daniela felt her anger waning. For all she'd done and had yet to do, she was still family.

Daniela slipped out from the cellblock as the others crowded in a circle around a collection of lit candles to take their meal together. She wanted to be with them, but a part of her felt suffocated by it all, the impending war with Woodbury, the visit with Andrea, the idea of Andrea going back to share a bed with him. Danieal knew what he did to her was nothing compared to what other women had suffered, the Governor didn't rape her. Objectively she knew she was lucky.

But she still hurt. He didn't just strip her of her shirt, he stripped her of her dignity, her right to feel in control of her own body. Her right to feel safe in her own body. Nothing compared to that suffocating fear as she stood, gun to her head, shaking fingers on the buttons of her shirt as she decided if it was worth resisting. She'd given him a little piece of herself then. No, fuck that. He'd taken it. She wanted it back.

A breeze whipped her hair around her face and she shivered. From the bridge across the courtyard she could see all the way to the tree line and a little beyond it, but the metal screen on either side of the walkway left her exposed to the wind. She shifted her back against it and closed her eyes. She wasn't ready to go back inside, and she wasn't ready for what awaited her in her dreams.

The door to the cellblock creaked open and the corners of her mouth lifted into a small smile as she listened to his approach. He sat down beside her, a few inches between them. She wanted to lean into his warmth. Daryl nudged her leg with something and she opened her eyes in surprise. In his hand he clutched an uncapped bottle of whiskey, almost full. His eyes sparkled.

"Mere's going to be pissed." She grinned.

"Mere's always pissed." He grunted. He shook the bottle, the amber liquid splashing around. It was an offering.

Daniela grabbed it from his hands, it was two thirds of the way full. More than enough for them both to get drunk on. She brought it to her lips and tipped her head back. She was sputtering almost the exact moment it reached her tongue. Daryl watched on silently as she coughed and wiped her mouth handing the bottle back to him wordlessly. His throat bobbed as he took a long gulp.

"I forgot how much I hate whiskey." she muttered. Daryl's raised an eyebrow at her, his lips gleaming wetly in the dim moonlight and she wondered what they would taste like. Her face flushed darkly and she snatched the bottle out of his hand. She gulped it down quickly willing the burn to chase any thoughts of Daryl's mouth from her head.

"Slow down," Daryl said prying the bottle from her fingers. "You ain't got the tolerance you used to."

He was right of course, her head was already starting to feel fuzzy as the alcohol hit her empty stomach, though maybe it had something more to do with his proximity. He smelled like leather, smoke and that wild bit that was uniquely him. She felt a stirring low in her gut, and her cheeks still felt warm. She searched for a distraction, from her her own thoughts and also from the silence that stretched between them. She never minded the silence before, but now it felt like there was something she should say.

"You talk to Merle?" She asked.

He took another swig before answering. "Sorta. He's stayin', if that's what you're after."

Daniela nodded and bit her lip, she looked down at her hands folded in her lap. She felt the bandage pulling at her skin under her jeans. She ran her fingers lightly over the fabric and prodded at the wound underneath. Daryl watched her her, eyes lingering on the yellowed bruise along her jaw.

"Does it still hurt?" He mumbled, his own jaw tight.

Daniela took the bottle back from him and snorted, "I can't keep track of what hurts and what doesn't anymore." She took another drink, it went down easier now.

"Thank you." Daryl said, his voice low, "For what you done for my brother."

"It's nothing." Daniela said flippantly. She knew it wasn't nothing to him, but she needed him to know she didn't regret it.

Daryl looked out at the walkers at the gate, closer than they'd been a week ago. "About what you said about your blood type," She blinked at him in curiosity, she hadn't expected him to remember with all that was going on, "What were you doin' hopping fences?"

"Oh," Daniela laughed, "I snuck out to go to a warehouse party with my boyfriend when I was sixteen. We got as far as the fence and I cut my leg pretty bad on a loose piece of wire, completely ruined my new jeans. Todd had to take me to the hospital, and they called my parents." She cackled, "My dad though the whole thing was hilarious, but my mom was so pissed she would talk to either of us for a week." She leaned into him, leaching his warmth through his thin shirt.

Daryl quirked his brow, "You hooked up with a guy named Todd?"

Daniela pulled the bottle of of his hands, her movement already a little wild. "I've never had good taste in men, remember?" She patted her hip where her tattoo was hidden by her jeans. She took a small sip and looked at him, slightly sobered by the intensity of his eyes. "What are your tattoos for?" She asked quietly.

He knew which one's she meant, he took a breath, then sighed as his shoulders sagged. "I like to carry my demon's with me." He said, voice distant.

The question rested on the tip of her tongue, then tumbled out before she could stop herself, "Did they hit you?" He went rigid against her, but didn't pull away.

A long silence passed between them and Daniela thought he wasn't going to answer when he said, "My mom died when I was just a kid, my dad was a mean drunk, and he was always drunk."

She took the admission gently like an old trinket that needed careful handling, she turned it over in her mind slowly. Emboldened and a little drunk, she reached out and gripped his rough hand in her own. He looked at her, searching her face with furrowed brows.

"I'm sorry he did that." She said, because it wasn't just something that happened to him, there was someone responsible for his pain.

Daryl nodded, his hair falling in front of his eyes. It was a piece he had given her willingly, she wanted to give him something in return. She searched her mind for anything that could measure up, she came up short.

"I'm scared." She said finally, and he looked at her, "Of the Governor, of going to war, of dying without anyone knowing what my favorite color is, or that I'm scared of dogs, or that I wore a retainer to sleep until I was twenty-four. I know it shouldn't matter, but I want it to." She looked into her lap, startled by the tears springing to her eyes.

"What's you're favorite color?" Daryl asked, their fingers still entwined.

She gave him a wry smile, it was tentative, feeling out this new place between them. It was small and private, and here it really did matter. "Pink." She said.

"Mine's green." He answered.

They went back and forth like that, exchanging little pieces of information Daniela tucked away in her brain greedily. They passed the bottle of whiskey back and forth too, taking sips and laughing unburdened by everything the hounded them in the daylight hours. It was perfect, and for a while they were both at peace.

"C'mon." Daryl grunted helping lift Daniela to her feet. She swayed a little grabbing onto his vest to brace herself. They were both drunk, but Daniela was wasted. Little as she was she kept up with him pretty well, but it looked like it was finally hitting her head on.

"M' good." She mumbled, her whiskey breath blowing across his lips.

Daryl chuckled, feeling lighter than he had in years. Some of it was the whiskey, loosening him up and bringing an easy smile to his face, but a lot of it was the woman in front of him. She brought out a softer side of him Daryl kept locked away deep inside himself. A side that would have got him killed in his family.

She leaned her head against his chest, her hands still fisted in his vest as she tried to steady herself. "Ya good?" He asked, his own words feeling distant. She grunted, and didn't move. They still had to go back inside across the top level of catwalks, he wasn't having her pitching herself over the side because she was drunk. "Alright." Daryl said, he stooped down and picked her up, cradling the back of her head under one arm and the back of her knees under the other. Like he carried her when she passed out.

She was still light, but sturdy. Not the thin skeletal girl from winter. He started walking and she went limp in his arms. "You keep spoiling me like this and I'm gonna start getting used to it." She mumbled, her voice muffled by the leather of his vest.

He pulled open the door with his foot very nearly toppling over with both of them but he darted in before it could close again. It was dark inside the cellblock, but Daryl's eyes were already adjusted. His boots thumped lightly on the metal as he carried Daniela to her cell. It was quiet except for Herschel's light snoring. At least here no one would have to wake him of out of fear of the sound drawing walkers.

He eased Daniela down in front of her cell, her sheet fluttering slightly from the movement. She still held onto the front of his vest and for a moment he was worried he'd have to pry her fingers off. Instead she looked up at him, her cheeks still flushed from the booze and pulled on him. His hand flew to the wall to steady himself as his face was yanked downward until it was even with Daniela. He braced himself against the wall, Daniela tucked between them, his breathing quickened as he looked into her gleaming eyes. She leaned in and planted a kiss on his cheek, almost at the corner of his lips and she whispered "Thank you." In his ears.

A jolt ran straight down his spine and his skin tingled where she touched him. His ears burned as she disappeared behind her sheet. It took him almost a full minute to stir himself back into motion and hours before he could clear his racing thoughts long enough to fall asleep.