This is it, everyone. The last chapter of this ridiculous story that wasn't ever even supposed to have a second chapter. Believe it or not, this has been going on for just short of two years. Time flies when you're spending all your time imagining scenarios for characters that don't actually exist, doesn't it? I've loved writing Taylor and Daryl, but it's time for it to come to a close; I don't want to continue to drag out chapters, as you've seen me doing these past few updates, and I think something that's taken up so much time deserves an actual conclusion and to not be left unfinished and abandoned.

For everyone that has spent time reading this, following it, messaging me about it - thank you. I don't even know why this story picked up any traction at all, but thank you.

There's more I'm planning on working on, more Bethyl, a collaboration I'm seriously so super excited about (so be sure to follow me, if you're interested), all in the near future...but now, the final chapter.

(don't worry. They go out with a bang. Would you have ever imagined differently? I realized it's been way too long. Waaaaaaaay too long.)

Burying T was hard.

It wasn't finding people willing to go out and find him. It wasn't remembering exactly what house it was that he had fallen from that night, though they were all starting to look the same. It wasn't getting his body, or what was left of it. It wasn't helping dig a hole, my hands blistering from using the shovel. All of that was fucking awful, but none of it hit so hard as the feeling of responsibility I felt for it all, how the clock that was ticking down on all of us seemed to be moving so much faster now, and I was at least a little to blame.

Daryl was recovering alright, at least enough for him to insist on coming out with us at sunset when they said words over his grave. But, with news of the herd possibly on its way, and strangers knowing where we were, the decision had been made to move on from the garages. Packing would start tonight, and we'd be on the road in the morning. To where, we didn't know, but that wasn't exactly new. There wasn't much room for plans these days.

That's what I was doing now: putting everything we had into bags while Daryl watched me from where he sat below the open door. It wasn't something that should have taken more than a couple minutes, but I was dragging my feet, thinking about everything the last few days had done to us. Daryl didn't say anything to me, just watched, but I could tell he knew I was distraught.

"You want these?" I asked him as I picked up the cigarettes from beside his bed.

He nodded, and I walked over to him to hand them over.

"Hold on a sec," he said, then took a cigarette out from the box and handed it to me. "You ever smoke before?"

I didn't take what he was offering. "In college I did. Kind of a staple. But I'm alright."

He didn't put his arm down. "Just take it and siddown," he said. "You're makin' my shoulder hurt."

"No one asked you to move your arm," I grumbled, but took the cigarette anyways. "Got a lighter?"

He fished around in his jacket pocket, then handed it to me. I lit the butt of the cigarette, taking a deep draw to make sure it took. I couldn't help the cough that came next.

"You're s'posed to breathe the smoke, not eat it."

I scrunched my face at him, handing back the lighter and sitting down at the opposite side of the frame. The concrete was cold, even through my jeans. "Why are we out here?" I asked him, looking around.

"So you'd stop."

"Stop packing? We all have to do that. Only reason you're not is because you were dumb enough to go and get yourself shot."

"Stop worryin' 'bout nothin' for two minutes. You ain't stop fidgeting since we got back," he said, watching me with the cigarette dangling from his lips. "You still thinkin' any of this was your fault?"

"I don't know," I said, breathing out and watching the way the smoke swirled and curled in the air. It was kind of beautiful, and I waited a minute to watch it before I spoke again. "I think things could've gone better. And probably would have if I hadn't volunteered to go in the first place."

"Lotta things coulda been different. Merle and I coulda robbed y'all blind and been gone. But that's not how shit went."

"I guess," I said. He was so matter-of-fact about everything, relying on what he could see and know. I didn't think I could explain what I was feeling. "If I hadn't -"

"But ya did," he interrupted, snubbing the cigarette out on the concrete and reaching into the box for another.

"It's not the first time the whole situation took a turn for the fucking worst because I was there. That thing at the farm where you beat up that kid after he messed with me? Or when we -"

"Stop it, would ya?" he said, looking disgusted as he tossed the half smoked cig out onto the pavement. "I don't wanna hear it."

"Fine," I said. I raised the cig to take a drag, but it had burned itself out. I crossed my arms, instead, looking up at the sky. There were so many stars, it was easy enough to lose myself in it.

"I told ya before, can't think like that. They're gone. You're not. Might as well make the best of it." When I didn't respond, he sighed. "You push him off? There sumtin you not tellin' me?"

I smiled. "No, you know just about everything. I'm sorry. I'll be fine at some point. Just have to keep going, right?"

He looked outside for a second, then at me. "C'mere. Help me up."

"You're supposed to be resting before tomorrow," I said as I got up, but helped him anyways, knowing my words wouldn't make a difference.

When he was standing, he nodded towards the door. "Close that," he said, the pitch of his voice low.

"What are you planning that you need the door shut?" I asked him, amused, but did as he said, turning back to him when we were closed off from the outside.

"C'mere, now," he said, and even though it was the darkness was overwhelming, I could still hear his voice so close to me.

I stepped forward, reaching out until my hand met his chest. As soon as I did, he reached out, putting his hand on the back of my head to draw me into him, pressing my face into the crook of his neck. I wanted to tease him - I was pretty sure this was the first time I had experienced him hugging someone - but instead I gave in, wrapping my arms around his waist underneath the leather of his jacket, pushing my forehead into his neck. I could feel him breathing, the rise and fall of his chest, the beat of his pulse. I could feel the solid layer of dirt and grime on his skin rubbing off onto my cheek, but his skin was cool, a vast improvement from the feverish heat that had been there just days ago.

"Things've turned out okay," he said into my hair. "Can't go on thinkin' they won't."

I nodded, then smiled. "You need a fucking bath, Daryl," I said, my voice muffled by his skin.

He didn't let me go. I could feel the deep rumblings of a short laugh in his chest. "Maybe we'll go Four Seasons next."

"Hm," I considered, scratching his back lightly as I leaned further into him. "How's your shoulder?"

"Hershel saw to it yesterday. Should be alright."

I ignored him, going to undo the buttons of his shirt just to survey the damage myself. What I saw didn't make me feel any better. An ugly bruise had bloomed all over the right side of his torso, blotches of yellow and purple and dark angry gray. His scar from his arrow was almost unnoticeable underneath all the colors. It looked so painful that it was easy to overlook his shoulder, wrapped nice and neat in more clean bandaging.

"Shit, that looks bad," I said, not wanting to touch it in case I hurt him but curious all the same.

"Didn't feel good, neither," he said, watching me examine him.

"Hershel really gave you the all clear?" I asked doubtfully, running a finger gently along the edges of the bruise.

"I ain't dyin' anytime soon, if that's what yer askin'." He shivered a little as my hand hit his stomach, and I watched in fascination as goosebumps rose all over his skin in the wake of my touch. I leaned forward to rest my forehead against his bare chest. It was weird, the combination of feelings I was experiencing: scared at remembering how close he'd come to death, relief that he was here now, and the wanton feeling of just want that was always present around him but was growing especially quickly now as I held him.

I looked up at him, resting my chin on his sternum. "You should lie down," I suggested, smiling innocently. "You're not doing your ribs any favors."

"Alright, doc," he said, and I could practically hear him rolling his eyes.

We backed into the wall together, and he used it to slide to the floor while I helped him. Instead of sitting next to him, though, I got onto his lap, straddling him comfortably.

"What y'think you're doin'?" he asked, but even as he spoke his hands fell on my thighs.

"Nothing," I said, leaning forward until my forehead found his. "Kiss me," I whispered.

"Taylor," he said warningly. "This ain't a good idea."

"No," I said, putting my hands on the side of his neck. "Going on a run without you wasn't a good idea. Fucking you while we were on a run wasn't a good idea. Almost getting pregnant wasn't a good idea. This, though," I said, pressing my cheek against his temple, "this isn't even close to our worst idea." I fisted his shirt collar, shifting in his lap. "So kiss me."

He still hesitated. "I can't do much. My arm's still useless."

I pushed on his good shoulder until he was on the floor, grabbing an old shirt to put underneath his head. I straddled him again, moving up until my head was over his, my knees near his chest. "Anything else?" I asked, feeling hair falling around my face.

"Think y'got it."

As fucked up as it was, there was nothing like a funeral to make you appreciate life. We were about to make a dangerous move, go back out into the unknown and chanced running into a herd on the way or starving ourselves out. But, right now, there was this garage. There weren't dead people, there wasn't our family outside depending on us, there wasn't even an outside at all. There was only this, me and him, and maybe for the last time.

I bent forward, hovering my face just over his, my lips grazing against his for just a second before he took the bait. He put his good hand on the back of my head, bringing me down to him. It started gentle, but that's not what I wanted this to be. I wanted to feel this everywhere, be sore tomorrow when I woke up and remember what caused it, have this memory and remember how strong he was when the fight for existence was renewed in the morning. So I bit his lip, pulling it back until it slipped from my teeth and I could return full force. His hand tangled in my hair, his other resting on my hip. I felt him wince against my mouth as he tried to grab me and failed, his fingers faltering.

"Okay?" I asked him, worried. Maybe this was a bad idea.

"Yeah," he said, pulling my hair to move my head so his lips were at my jaw.

"If this hurts -"

"Gonna finish what ya started?" he interrupted. "Or ya gonna keep runnin' your mouth?"

I couldn't help but smile. There it was, that tease with a suggestion of real challenge that was all we needed to set our dynamic right.

"Don't know if you're in much of a position to be making demands," I said, pushing my hips squarely against his and wiggling a little just to rub it in. It was a rare thing to have the upper hand against him. "Make you a deal," I said, coming back to his ear. "I'll be nice if you beat me at arm wrestling."

I could feel his annoyance with me, and I snickered. It was short lived victory, though, as I had underestimated him. His hold on the back of my head twisted so that he had a fistful of my hair, and he yanked me up and away from him. He held me there for a second, just looking at me, letting me realize exactly how powerless I still was in this situation.

"Touch yerself," he said quietly, pulling my hair tight.

My heart dropped to my stomach but then returned beating twice as fast. This was new. Maybe he had been thinking about missing me, too. He slipped into this role so easily.

I only hesitated for a second before dipping my hand into my sweats and past the waistband of my panties, pushing through hair until I was cupping myself. He let go of my hair and I relaxed slightly, thinking he had lost patience with the show, but instead of touching me he yanked my sweats down my thighs until he could see my hand in my panties. He was drinking me in thirstily, giving me a grain of confidence to actually try. I had never done this before, not with him, not with anyone.

I closed my eyes, trying to forget he was there, but I could feel his eyes burning into me, egging me on. I rubbed two fingers quickly over my clit, starting slow, dipping down to my opening and surprised to find that I was already soaking. I got bolder, pushing a finger inside, first one but then quickly moving onto two, going hard and fast. Just because he was playing games didn't mean I had to, and if he wanted to watch me come I wasn't going to argue. I didn't even stop when I felt him hook my panties with two fingers to pull the fabric aside so he could see what I was doing.

I refocused on my clit, flicking it quickly between two fingers. I opened my eyes to see him watching raptly, looking nearly feral. My hips started to jut, my fingers slipping as I soaked myself, and my breaths came shallower and shallower as my legs started to quiver and my stomach clenched.

I was seconds away from finishing when he grabbed my hand and yanked it away, depriving me from my orgasm. Before I could react, he had fisted my shirt, pulling me down forcefully to him. He grunted when I landed on his shoulder, but didn't stop, reaching between us to shove his pants down and free his dick between us.

I was half crazed, all electricity. Everything felt intense, from his jeans against my thighs to the chill of the concrete against my hands to the heat of cock against my stomach. I felt feral with the need to finish, needed it in a way I couldn't accurately describe with words. I unbuttoned the rest of his shirt with frantic, stuttering fingers, the nerves reaching to the pads of my fingers. Next came my shirt, followed by my bra and an awkward shimmy for my sweats, getting rid of anything that stopped my skin from meeting his.

"Fucking asshole," I said, grinding against his dick in as much an attempt to relieve myself as to punish him.

I felt him smile as he snaked his hand between us, trying to position his cock so that I would land on him when I ground against him again. Any other situation, I would have teased him for that, would have worked my folds up and down the length of him until he was begging me, but the urgency I felt wouldn't allow it. I lowered my hips slowly, allowing him to guide himself inside of me. I stopped about halfway, holding my breath as I raised myself only to go back down, doing this again and again until I had taken him to the base.

"Fuck, Taylor," he said, the tendons in his neck straining as he put his hand on my ass again, grabbing so tight I thought he might leave a bruise.

I couldn't do anything but bounce on him again, a little faster this time, trying to make him say my name again. I arched my back, lowering the upper half of my body to his chest so I could give my arms a break.

Then, I rode him, taking him deep while I watched his face, trying to find the angle that would take me where I wanted to go. This was the first time I had taken him like this, had been able to set the pace and have him at my mercy. As much as I enjoyed when he took control, I had to admit that this had its perks. I should've been taking advantage, should've been making him beg as I rode him slowly into oblivion, but instead I was driving myself onto him as fast as my aching hips would allow.

He slapped my thigh in encouragement. "That's fuckin' right. Fuckin' ride me, girl."

I whimpered at his words, trying so hard to finish. It wasn't going to be long this session, not at all the hours I had anticipated when I had pushed him to the ground, but I didn't care. All too soon, though, I could feel him clenching, watched the muscles of his stomach and chest and arms ripple. He squeezed my ass cheek hard, giving it another slap.

"Make yourself come," he said throatily, desperation sinking into his voice as his hips raised off the ground to meet my thrusts. I sat up and he reached for my breast, instead, kneading one painfully hard before pinching the nipple between his nails.

"Taylor," he whined, clenching down sharply on my breast in warning.

I gave up.

I raised myself off his cock, sitting on his thighs and wasting no time to grab onto him with my hand. His whole length was slippery wet with my juices, making it easy as I jacked him off to a sticky finish seconds later as he groaned, his body clenched for a few wonderful moments before he relaxed and melted into the floor. I didn't let him go, just yet, continuing to stroke him gently, trying to ignore how much I was aching. It was to be expected, I told myself. I couldn't finish every time.

But I had been so close.

I tried to shove that aside as I finally let him go, crawling back up his body and collapsing on his chest. I put my ear against him, listening to the sound of his heart.

There were only a few moments of respite, though, before he spoke. "Look at me."

I sighed before propping myself up on my elbows, my hands under my chin. I knew I must look a mess, but I was past caring.

"You didn't finish," he said, narrowing his eyes slightly, his eyes reading my body.

"Don't worry about me," I said, still breathless. I was dripping, my knees sore against the concrete while a dull ache started to spread to where my thighs met my hips. "Seriously," I said when he didn't look assuaged. "I'm good."

"Scootch on up here a bit," he said in answer, tapping my ass with his hand and giving it a hard squeeze.

I moved up, sliding easily along his stomach. I kept bent over, dragging the tips of a breast over his face and feeling my nipple pebble as his scruff scratched it. I stopped there, thinking that was what he wanted. He gave my breast a kiss, licking the salty sweat off my sternum, and I smiled. But then, unexpectedly, he let go, giving my ass a biting slap with the palm of his hand.

"Keep goin'," he ordered, nothing playful in his tone. I felt another rush of heat, an involuntary response that happened whenever he used that voice with me.

I scooted up more, all the way up to his chest, inch by inch, waiting for him to tell me to stop. But his hand on my ass kept prodding me forward, inching me up past his chest, giving me another sound smack when I stopped and pressed backwards.

"Daryl," I said, realizing where he was going with this and suddenly unsure, but he ignored me, bending his knees to pull himself along the floor those last few inches until my thighs were around his head and my center was directly above his face.

I was panicking now, unreasonable insecurity poisoning all the things I had been feeling earlier. "I'm really fi-" I started to say, trying halfheartedly to stop him before it could happen, but failed to finish the word before he had tipped his head forward at the same time his hand slipped between my thighs. He spread my folds apart with two fingers, and then there was his tongue, flat and broad and hot against me.

I doubled over, catching myself on my hands. I was way too sensitive for this, the tingling surprise spiking all over my body as I made a noise that was between a sob and a moan. I looked down to see his head planted firmly between my thighs, his neck straining forward so that his tongue could reach into my folds. I closed my eyes, my toes curling as I felt him push his tongue inside of me before pulling back to bite at my lips. I was caught somewhere in suspension, not quite even aware of what was happening, but as his tongue circled around my clit it all came crashing back down at once. A shudder went through me as he tongued my clit again, and I squeaked in surprise.

I looked back down at him, working so hard just to eat me, and finally took pity and brought my hips down in a slight rotation, pushing against his mouth and feeling the scruff of his beard scratching against me. When I raised them up again, trying to give him a break, he shoved two fingers inside of me. I was sore, and the intrusion smarted, but I craved more, driving my hips into him as he twisted his hand.

He hooked his fingers inside, tilting his head up to meet my eyes. Even upside down he was hot as hell, maybe one of the best things I had ever seen. "Just relax, alright? I gotcha."

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair what that voice could do. I couldn't help but listen, swinging my hips down to his waiting mouth and tongue. There was no hesitation on his part, devouring me whole.

I sat back up straight so that I could see him better, wanting to remember this view. He looked back up at me and I couldn't help but smile down at him, rocking forward for a second so that his nose nudged my clit. I decided to give him a view, holding onto my breasts and kneading them in time to the thrusts of my hips.

But it was only for his benefit for a second. Only seconds later I was riding him in earnest, pinching my nipples, trying to finish. I didn't know what was holding me back. He was trying so hard, and I thought guiltily of how tired his jaw must be, but I couldn't quite make it. He seemed to sense my frustration, hooking his arm around my leg to reach the my pubic bone. He inched down until he got to my clit, pulling the flesh and skin back so I was bared to him. I watched as he raised his head, his face full of fierce determination.

"This is mine," he said, rubbing his thumb over my clit as I watched. "And yer gonna come fer me."

It took a second for his words to catch up to my sluggish brain, but by the time I had he had already taken my swollen clit between his lips and sucked hard, flicking his tongue back and forth. I didn't even have a choice but to do as he said. He looked me straight in the eye as I finished, and I was locked into his gaze as I watched my body shake. I grabbed onto his hair, making sure he didn't move. Every time with him had been perfect, beyond expectation, but this was the different. Never had I ridden so high for so long.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck fuck," I muttered as he watched me. The waves wouldn't stop, his mouth relentless. "Yes, fuck, yes, Daryl," I continued, mutterings turning to whimpers as he kept pulling me higher. I wasn't even sure I was existing anymore, my whole body one electrified livewire.

He didn't stop until I was pulling myself off, raising out of his reach and then rolling to his side.

I had no words, no syllables, no thoughts as my lungs grasped for all the oxygen they could take. I glanced over at him to see the aftermath, and watched with wide eyes as he actually licked his lips.

He was trying to kill me, I was sure. I giggled, empty, breathless laughs. "I told you I was good."

"Think yer better now."

"Nah. I was faking," I said, shrugging, but I was smiling through the bullshit. "Could've gone without."

"Keep sayin' shit and yer gonna get spanked again," he said, turning his head to me and raising his eyebrows.

I pursed my lips contemplatively. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Get yer clothes back on 'fore ya freeze," he said, grabbing my shirt off the floor and tossing it at me.

I caught it, sitting back up. "Put your pants back on, then."

When I had my sweater back on and his dick was back on his jeans, I went over to him, helping him rebutton his shirt while he watched me.

"Lotta shit happenin' tomorrow," he said, putting his good arm behind his head.

"Yeah," I agreed, patting his stomach when I was done. I pulled his sore arm gently onto my lap, massaging his wrist and forearm softly. "Think they can handle it?" I asked, nodding towards the door.

"Baby comin'. Be another one 'fore too long if Glenn and Maggie keep it up. T's gone. Herd comin'..." he trailed off.

"Think we can handle it?"

He chewed on the inside of his cheek. "Yeah. I think we'll be alright."

I smiled a little at his words, but in the end, they were just words. The herd could descend on us in the night and we'd be dead in the mornings, or we could make it out of here relatively unscathed and find somewhere safe and live for years to come. I didn't know, didn't know what to expect or what to feel. But I did know him. I knew this feeling, I knew the way he felt inside me, I knew the way he tasted and the way he touched me, I knew the look in his eyes when he was feeling something for me he couldn't hide. I knew that, for now, for this moment, it was all that mattered, and that, more and more, it outshadowed everything else.

I didn't know what would happen tomorrow, or even an hour from now. But I guess, what I was realizing as he looked at me and smiled like he couldn't help it, was that I didn't really care.

And this is where it ends. Again, thank you so much to any of you that took the time to read this. Thank you to my beta, MollyMayhem84, even though she likes to make me fall in love with her stories and then never write them again (remember that name for the collab, guys). Just thank you, whether you were a silent reader or you favorited or followed or took the time to review. It was all amazing.

Remember to follow me if you want to see anymore of my writing (very, very soon. Like. Tomorrow, soon) And who knows? Maybe we'll see Taylor and Daryl again someday. Ya never know what the future may hold...