Unbreakable threads

Chapter One Hundred and Two: The Grimes are Back together.

As the first rays of sunlight crept through the window, Alyssa stirred, sitting up slowly. She glanced over at Daryl, still sprawled out beside her, and nudged him gently.

"Daryl," she whispered. "Wake up."

Daryl groaned, shifting slightly before finally sitting up, rubbing a hand over his face. His hair was a mess, and he looked just as groggy as she felt. Both of them still sitting in the bed made the situation all the more surreal.

"You gotta go before Rick wakes up," Alyssa said, stifling a laugh as she tried to keep her voice low. "Just in case he comes in here. Or if he's already downstairs."

Daryl nodded wordlessly, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and grabbing his boots and crossbow. He moved quietly, his usual gruff demeanor softened by the early morning calm.

Alyssa smirked, trying not to giggle at the absurdity of it all. "Take the window," she said, biting her lip to keep from laughing outright.

Daryl gave her a side-eye look, pulling on his boots. "The window?" he repeated, his voice low but incredulous.

"Yeah," Alyssa said, barely holding back her laughter now. "What, you wanna march down the stairs with Rick and Carl waiting for you in the kitchen? Explaining why you're in my room this early?"

Daryl grumbled, but he knew she was right. He slung the crossbow over his shoulder, glancing toward the window with a resigned sigh. "This feels stupid," he muttered.

"It is stupid," Alyssa said with a grin, pulling her knees up to her chest as she watched him. "You look like a teenager sneaking out of his girlfriend's house."

Daryl shot her a glare, though there was no real heat behind it. "Not helpin', Lyss."

"Sorry," she said, her grin widening. "But you know how this would look. Nobody else understands, and they're already all over us."

Daryl didn't argue further, pulling the window open and glancing down at the drop. It wasn't too bad. "If I break my neck, it's on you," he grumbled, stepping one leg out.

"You'll be fine," Alyssa said, rolling her eyes. "You're Daryl Dixon."

He huffed but swung the rest of the way out, landing on the ground below with ease. Alyssa leaned out the window, watching as he adjusted his crossbow and glanced up at her.

"See you later, Lyss," he said quietly, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

"Later, Daryl," she replied, her voice just as soft.

She watched him disappear down the street, shaking her head at the ridiculousness of it all. But deep down, she knew—no matter how absurd their bond might seem to others, it was the one thing that made perfect sense to both of them.

Carl stepped out of his room just as Alyssa emerged from hers, pulling the last strap of her boot tight and adjusting the collar of her suede leather police jacket. She barely had time to glance at him before she noticed the smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Morning," he said, his voice laced with mischief.

Alyssa raised a brow, trying to play it cool. "What?" she asked, brushing past him as if she had nothing to hide.

"I heard him," Carl said casually, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms. "Daryl. You two were talking earlier."

Alyssa froze for half a second but quickly regained her composure. "Yeah? So?" she replied, shrugging as she adjusted her belt and tie. "He needed to talk about something."

Carl's smirk widened. "In your room? All night?"

Alyssa rolled her eyes, trying to suppress the heat creeping up her neck. "We're not doing this, Carl," she said, brushing past him and heading for the stairs.