A/N: Hi guys. So…my reaction to the season finale was a big ol' "meeeehhhh". So many missed opportunities, for ALL of the characters. Anyway, I wanted to wrap this story up, since you were all so nice to take the journey with me. I fleshed things out a little, resolving the finale for myself, at least! Thanks, as always, for reading, reviewing and communicating with me about these stories.

Shout out to Cheap Trixie for encouraging me to tackle this one! :)

~ CeeCee

There is no time to grieve, in this new world, he's decided. He's never been one for mulling things over (though he's always held his wounds close to his chest), but even more so, now. Now, the people that matter the most are the ones most dangerous to reflect upon.

He does not disagree with Rick's decision to cull the weak and helpless out of Woodbury, bring them to the prison. But the sheer volume of them goes against his solitary nature. The number of them, and the responsibility of them. Part of him is relieved to be heading out for evening watch with Glenn.

He runs into his friend in the yard, conversing with Hershel. Both men nod, and Glenn jogs over.

"Hey, I know we got watch, but can you ask Michonne or Carol to hang out for a few minutes? I want to finish up here," he gestures at the older man.

"Yeah, no problem," Daryl shrugs. He turns to go.

"Daryl, look, man," Glenn grabs his arm. "This is really fucking hard to say, but I want to say it."

He says nothing, just looks at Glenn's hand on his arm, puzzled.

Glenn takes a deep breath. "I know all I've done is give you shit about Merle, and give Merle shit about Merle. I can't say that he didn't deserve it. But you know? That crazy racist lunatic found some honor, in what he did, for Michonne, for the rest of us. You get me?"

Daryl almost can't handle his earnestness, the nakedness of it. He squints, replies, "You're right. You're right about my brother…he was a crazy racist lunatic." A smile passes over his mouth.

Glenn bursts out laughing, "Yeah, yeah, okay. Thanks, Daryl. Really," he heads back to Hershel, and Daryl turns and walks up the stairs to the remaining catwalk, towards the roof, hoping Glenn didn't see the tears in his eyes.

ooooOOOOoooo

The roof is so exposed, but the Governor and his cavalry left them with few other vantage points. Daryl pushes the door to the flat expanse of space of the roof top. Michonne and Carol stand sentry, their forms silhouetted against the setting sun. The two women are talking quietly. Carol turns at the sound of the squeaky hinge, sees him, raises her hand in greeting.

"Where's Glenn?"

"He'll be along in a minute, chattin' with Hershel. Hope one of you don't mind keepin' me company for a few minutes," he waits for Carol to say something suggestive, is almost disappointed when she doesn't, simply responds:

"I'll stay."

He glances over at Michonne, whose usual mask-like face has lines of sadness etched deeply in its planes. She looks up at Daryl.

"I'm real sorry about Merle," she rasps out. "I mean that."

"Yeah," he says. "Yeah. I'm sorry about Andrea, too."

Michonne nods, swipes a tear from her cheek. "They both died well. As well as you can in this dirty world," she grasps his shoulder for a second, drops her hand. Starts walking towards the roof's door.

"See you later, Carol. Thanks for everything. Now I gotta find someplace that's not crammed fulla people," she raises a hand in farewell to both of them.

"Someone else who's going to have to get used to a crowd," Carol says from behind him. She always knows.

"Rick did what he thought was right," Daryl turns and walks over to her.

"I don't disagree. It's just that we suddenly went from not very many to a hell of a lot more. All those kids…" she trails off, looking somehow both strong and vulnerable in the oversized fatigue jacket she's wearing. She's thinking about Sophia, he knows.

"Alright?" He steps slightly closer, so their sides bump against each other.

"Oh, sure," she says. "She knocks me over when I least expect it. Never sure when it'll happen. She's always here, always. But sometimes, she's more here, if that makes any sense. And seeing those kids troop off that bus…"

He nods, thinking of all of the spaces that the dead have left in them. What she'd said to him, when he'd returned, with Merle. People fill those hollow parts in each others' hearts. But…it's more than that. It was honoring those spaces. Deserving them. To not only die well, but live well.

He puts his arm around her without thinking about it, and she falls against him, so naturally. Her arms around his neck again, reminding him of the day, in the woods, with her fierce beauty. But this time…

She does not bury her face in his neck. She stares up at him, her grey eyes clear, shining with tears. He can feel her heart beating through her back, through her coat. Something shifts in her expression, and a crease appears between her eyes. She is intent, searching. Her hand slides from his neck to his raspy cheek, her thumb brushing over his upper lip. A smile appears, as if this, this is just what she was looking for.

She is on her toes, her whole body reaching up and towards him, and her lips are on his. His hand, flat on her back, presses her closer. The kiss is equal parts promise and passion, and now Daryl understands:

This.

This is it.

To live.

To die.

And to do it as well as you can.

~Fin~