Standing in the guard post, Maisie heard the rumbling before she even saw the motorcycle. Jackson let out a shrill bark in excitement.

"Open the gate," she called to Abraham, who stood on the ground below her. He obliged with a salute and the gate rattled open as Daryl's chopper drove through.

"What'd ya get?" Abraham asked him once the gate was closed and locked.

"Rabies, most likely," Maisie called, leaning against the railing. She responded to Daryl's raised middle finger with a cocky smile, dimples popping in her cheeks.

"Nothin'," Daryl told him, turning away from the blonde. "Just found a truck stop. Gonna go back and check it out in a bit."

"Can I come?"

Daryl tipped his head back to look at her, squinting his Georgia blue eyes. The sun was directly behind her, and the rays radiating around her made her look angelic. "No."

"Too bad, princess."

"Do you listen to anyone?"

"Nope," Maisie responded, smiling wide. She saw Rosita marching over and grabbed Jackson by his harness. She flew down the ladder, jumping the last four rungs.

"Buck up, princess, we leave in ten," Maisie said, oozing confidence as she purposely bumped into his shoulder as she walked away, the black dog trotting after her. Daryl turned to watch her leave, shaking his head. She'd become even cockier in the last month, the death of her brother and the discovery of her father long behind her.

〄

"If you find any, can you get me some orange pop?" Denise asked, approaching Daryl as he messed around under the hood of a borrowed car.

Daryl gave her a strange look.

"You see, I think Tara likes it and I wanted to surprise her, and—"

"The hell's pop?" Daryl interrupted in his usual gruff growl.

"It's soda," Maisie informed him, leaning casually against the side of the car with her arms crossed.

"Huh," Daryl scoffed, closing the hood and crossing his thick arms. "You ready?"

"Yessir."

"Then let's go," he said, bristling at her sir comment. He exchanged a look with the approaching Rick as Maisie slid into the passenger seat.

"Didn't you just get back?"

"Yep."

"And you're leaving again?"

"Yep."

"Daryl—"

A short blast from the car's horn interrupted them and they turned in time to see Maisie straighten up in her seat.

"Let's go, we're burning daylight."

〄

"You should dye your hair."

"You should wash yours," Maisie retorted, turning to smirk at him.

"But, do tell me your reasons for telling me what to do with my hair," she said, putting her feet up on the dashboard of the car.

"You're easy to see. Recognizable."

"If we really need to go incognito I'll dirty up my hair," Maisie laughed, twirling a strand of hair around her index finger. "Is that the truck stop you were talking about?" she asked, pointing outside her window.

"No," Daryl replied, turning sharply.

"You gotta gun?"

"Yup," Maisie replied, holding up Jonathan's before she shot out from the car.

"Well, I found Denise's pop."

Daryl followed her voice until he found her standing in front of an old, almost empty vending machine.

"Hey, can I borrow a buck fifty?" Maisie asked, turning to him with a glowing smirk.

"Shut up," he grunted, shoving the vending machine onto its back.

"Yes, cause that'll help us get into it."

"Shut up."

Crossing her arms across her black shirt, she harrumped and stalked away, kicking at stones as she went.

"How do you think we're gonna get this back to Alexandria?"

"We could drag it behind this moving truck full of food."

"What?" Daryl asked, straightening up and following her voice again until he found her in a dusty garage. A big white box truck sat front and center.

"This thing's loaded!" Maisie exclaimed, poking her head out from the back of the truck. Daryl joined her.

The truck really was loaded, with pallets stacked with canned foods and other various supplies. Pulling the driver's door open, Maisie climbed into the cab of the truck.

"It's got the keys, too!"

"You're too excitable," Daryl scoffed, walking away from her and the truck.

Hopping out of the cab, Maisie ran after him, stuffing the keys into her pocket.

A man shot out from around the corner and straight into Maisie, knocking them both to the pavement. The man was up and off her almost immediately, and taking off again before the gun cocked behind him. The man turned and faced Daryl with his hands up.

Switching the gun to his left hand and keeping his eyes on the strange man, Daryl held his right hand out to Maisie and pulled her to her feet when she grasped it in hers.

Dusting herself off one handed, Maisie drew her gun on the man while he moved the bandana from around the lower half of his face. Along with his shoulder length brown hair and his managed beard that borderlined on wild, the man had gorgeous light grey-blue eyes.

"Who are you?" Maisie demanded, both hands now on the grip of her gun.

"My name is Paul Rovia, but my friends call me Jesus."

Maisie snorted. The nickname wasn't inaccurate.

"Sorry about bumping into your inamorata here," he addressed Daryl, "but I was being chased by roamers."

The two gun barers whipped around in unison when gunfire erupted from behind the building. Abandoning Jesus, they ran around the side of the building, forgetting what the man had said about the dead ones.

There were none. But there was a rusted oil drum full of fire crackers. Their eyes went wide when they heard a truck start up.

"Son of a bitch swiped the keys from you, didn't he?"

Maisie hurriedly checked every pocket of her jeans. "Yup," she said solemnly, bolting back around the building, Daryl in tow.

Together they rounded the corner time to see the truck pull out, the vending machine chained to the back of it whipping across the pavement as he turned onto the road.

"Well," Maisie sighed, "It's a good thing we're both in shape."

The redneck grunted his response before they began to sprint after the stolen truck.

〄

After a long, long time running they turned a corner and skidded to a stop; the truck was pulled over on the side of the road, the back door open. They advanced on it slowly, gun and crossbow drawn. They split up, each taking a side of the truck. When Jesus appeared on her side, Maisie punched him. She hadn't meant to, but he had startled her.

Pressing her boot against his chest to pin him down, she hadn't expected him to grab her ankle and twist. It wasn't enough to hurt her, but it was enough to make her relinquish her hold and allow him to spring up from the grass.

He turned to run away from her and got another punch to the face, but this one was harder. Daryl intended to stun him where had Maisie acted on her reflexes.

"There any rope in that damn truck?"

"I dunno, give me a sec," she replied, hoisting herself into the back of the truck and pawing through the contents.

Five minutes later, she resurfaced with a coiled length of rope. She tossed it to the redneck, bringing the door down and locking it. She unchained the vending machine before standing above it.

"Come on, is this really necessary?"

Maisie looked up as Daryl joined her at the vending machine. Her gaze slid over him and landed on Jesus, sitting in the grass with his hands tied with complicated knots in the rope.

"Yes," she said shortly, turning her attention back to the metal and plexiglass box, flinching as Daryl brought his fist down on the glass. He hit the same spot over and over until it shattered. Reaching through the springs he stuffed a few miniture bags of chips and popcorn along with Denise's orange pop.

"C'mon," he grunted, splitting to left and taking the drivers side.

"You're just gonna leave me?" Jesus asked incredulously as Maisie passed him.

"Yup," she said, throwing a backpack at him. "Take this, prick," she snapped, climbing into the cab.

〄

Daryl took a chip from the bag Maisie offered him, his eyes on the road. Putting her feet up on the dashboard, she tipped the bag into her mouth and crumpled it up.

"What was that?" she asked, lowering her feet at a slight thud on the roof.

"He's on the roof."

Driving into a field, Daryl slammed the breaks. Maisie gasped as the man tumbled in front of the windshield and disappeared into the grass.

Daryl got out before Maisie, making his way around the front of the truck as Jesus bolted.

"Wait! Biters," Maisie hissed, jutting her chin at the tractor fifty yards away.

"You get the walkers, I'll get the prick."

"No! You get the biters, I'll get him. I'm smaller and faster and I don't think he'd hurt me as much as he'd hurt you!"

The redneck hesitated, considering for a moment, before he huffed and went back into the truck, grabbing his crossbow and marching to the small group behind the tractor.

Maisie chased the thieving man back and forth, the man faking left and right. It was a life sized game of cat and mouse, until Jesus tackled her around the waist. As she landed on her back, he was already up and off.

Jesus managed to get the truck and drive it. He thought he was safe until the woman yanked open the door and punched him. He managed to stop the truck as she wrestled him out. Leaning back across the seat, he pulled a gun on her. Her pale green eyes went wide.

"Duck!"

"What?"

"Just do it!"

And she did. The man fired and the bullet sailed over her crouched body. She looked over her shoulder and saw a biter laying dead in the grass, inches from her. He saved her.

Maisie pushed the thought out of her mind and continued to wrestle Jesus out of the cab. As she did, his jacket caught on the emergency brake and released it. The truck began to roll backwards.

As they toppled out of the truck, the open door clipped the man's head, rendering him unconscious, before sliding into the lake and sinking with all their supplies.

"Shit!" Daryl growled angrily.

Maisie rolled over lazily in the grass, jumping up when she saw Daryl had his crossbow pointed at the unconscious man's head.

"No! Don't kill him!"

"Why not?!"

"Cause he didn't kill me!"

"What?"

Maisie pointed at the dead biter by the lake. "He could've just let it bite me and he didn't. He told me to duck and he shot it. He deserves a chance for that."

"Fine," Daryl snapped, lowering his crossbow reluctantly.

"Come on, let's drag him to the car and take him back to Alexandria."

〄

When they got back to Alexandria, the town was buzzing. She snickered when she saw Glenn running around like a chicken who had lost its head. When he spotted her, he ran to her, wrapping his arms around her waist and spinning her around.

"Whoa, whoa, calm down, Happy Feet!" Maisie laughed as Glenn set her down again, his face glowing. "What's going on?"

"Maggie's pregnant!"

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