Maesi Dixon, the 19-year-old half-sister of Daryl and Merle, is a hardened survivor with a sharp mind and deadly aim. Growing up toughened by her brothers, she's no stranger to danger. When the world is overrun by walkers, Maesi must rely on her ski...
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Measi sat cross-legged in her tent, the soft glow of a lantern illuminating Daryl's book in her hands. She took a slow sip of water, letting the quiet of the camp settle around her. Beth had finally emerged from her shock, and Maggie and Lori had insisted Measi take a break from babysitting, though she knew she'd been watching anyway.
Outside, the camp was calm. Shane and Rick were taking Randall eighteen miles away, leaving the camp quiet for the first time in days. Andrea perched atop the RV, Daryl was out hunting, and for a moment, the world felt almost normal.
A soft voice made her look up. ''Knock knock.'' Nathan's face appeared in the tent's flap, and she smiled, gesturing for him to come in.
"Hey," she said, tucking the book aside.
He stepped in and sat next to her, hands fidgeting slightly. She noticed the way he kept glancing at her, like he was gathering courage.
"You okay?" she asked, her voice soft.
He nodded, exhaling. "Yeah... yeah, I'm fine. I just... I need to ask you something."
She tilted her head, encouraging him.
He took a deep breath, his fingers tightening around his knees. "I've been thinking... about us. About holding your hand, resting my head on your shoulder..." His gaze met hers, steady, searching. "Do you... feel the same?"
Measi's chest warmed, and instead of hesitating, she leaned just a little closer. "Yes," she said simply, letting her words hang between them.
Nathan's lips curved in a small, relieved smile. "Oh... thank god."
"Thank god?" she echoed, raising an eyebrow.
"For someone who is a literal genius," he said, shaking his head and laughing softly, "you can be very stupid, Measi."
Her laugh joined his, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she closed the distance, letting her hand brush against his. "Not stupid," she whispered, her voice low, daring. "Just... careful. I'm done being careful."
Before he could respond, she leaned in, pressing her lips to his. It wasn't tentative—it was sharp, decisive, and full of the recklessness that came from knowing the world around them was unpredictable. Nathan froze for a moment, then wrapped an arm around her, deepening the kiss, and for the first time in days, the quiet of the camp felt warm instead of haunted.
When they finally broke apart, their foreheads rested together. Nathan's hand lingered on her cheek. "Damn," he murmured. "You're braver than I gave you credit for."
Measi smirked, her fingers tracing the edge of his jaw. "I survive out there," she said. "Figured I'd survive in here too."
He laughed softly, pressing his forehead to hers again. "Good. Because I'm not going anywhere."
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