The next morning, after breakfast, Rick told the group to explore.

 Rick and Daryl watched their people go down the road, including Carl.

"This'll be good for us, right?" Rick asked, looking over at Daryl who was sitting on the porch floor, cleaning his crossbow with a dirty rag. The archer hummed in agreement. Rick continued, "This place could be good for Carl. Let him be a kid."

Daryl hummed again.

Rick gestured to the others walking round, "You going too?"

"Nah, I'll stay."

"All right." Rick sighed, looking all around, "Lori and me, we used to drive through neighbourhoods like this. Thinking, 'One day', y'know."

"Well, here we are."

Rick repeated the phrase then stepped down from the house, "We'll be back."

Daryl grunted but looked up at the familiar sound of an axe being sliced through wood. He looked up and towards the sound and saw Frankie. The muscular woman was only in a sports bra and military trousers. Her muscles bulged and shone with sweat as she chopped wood with one powerful blow after another. Her scars criss-crossed her tanned skin. Arms, chest, back, legs, neck, face, stomach. It seemed that not a part of her wasn't affected by them.

Carol came out of the house, dressed in soft colours and a cardigan. Its so different seeing her like that, it made Daryl raise an eyebrow.

"Time to punch the clock and make the casseroles." She said.

"What?"

"Make dinner for the older people-- moms who need a break, people who can't cook." She explained. "Get to meet a lot of the neighbours that way."

Daryl scoffed, "All right." His eyes went back to Frankie for a second.

Carol narrowed her eyes at him. "Have you taken a shower yet?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Take a shower. I'm gonna wash that vest." She ordered, then spotted what/who he was looking at and smirked. "We need to keep up appearances, even you. You never know... you might make an impression."

"Hey, I ain't starting now." He glared at her.

"I'm gonna hose you down in your sleep." Carol semi-joked, going down the porch steps.

"You look ridiculous." He called at her.

Carol just rolled her eyes, looking at him through the porch fence, "Go talk to the Frankenstein."

Daryl's eyes snapped up. "Don't call her that."

Carol's eyebrows sky rocketed up her forehead. "Oooo, do I spot a bit of protectiveness?"

Daryl shook his head.

"Go talk to her." She urged as she walked away, "You could use a friend that's not me."

"Who said we friends?!"

Carol just laughed and kept walking.

Daryl's gaze went back to Frankie as she took a break, wiped the sweat from her forehead and took a long drink from her water bottle. He didn't know why he couldn't get this woman out of his mind. This has never happened before.

He had a few flings and hookups when travelling around with Merle but all the women were at least half the size of Frankie and not nearly as muscular. All blonde thin bimbos that scratched an itch. And he never thought about the women again after the sun rose. So why was Frankie clouding his mind? She's so different from any other woman he'd ever met. Tall like an Amazonian and as strong as a lioness, her trauma literally written on her flesh for all to see. She was a cryptid - a rare but beautiful sight. She was what he pictured a Goddess should be. Strong, powerful, mysterious yet breath-taking. She picked the axe back up and was about to continue her job when....

"Oh shit." He muttered when seeing Aiden and Spencer walk up to Frankie, knowing that the boys would not be friendly.

"Hey, Frankenstein!" Spencer's voice echoed the street, a large smile on his lips.

Daryl could see the way her jaw tightened, the way her hands clenched around the axe handle, but she didn't react more. She just remained, as still and silent as a statue.

"Shouldn't you be in a lab somewhere?" Aiden taunted.

"There are kids nearby, should put a bag over your head so you don't scare them." Spencer added.

Frankie stood still, her eyes fixed on something unseen. She didn't flinch, didn't react at all. She just took it. They kept at it, their taunts growing louder, more childish.

Daryl felt a surge of anger, a hot rush that pulled him across the street. He didn't even think about it. He stepped between the boys and Frankie, his own fists clenching.

"Leave her alone, assholes." He growled, his voice low and dangerous.

The boys stared at Daryl, surprised. They clearly weren't used to anyone standing up to them, much less for her.

"What's it to you, redneck?" The taller of the two sneered. "We're just joking around."

"Get out of here," Daryl snapped. "Before I shoot an arrow so far up your ass you'll taste it."

They looked at each other, their bravado faltering slightly.

"Fine," Spencer muttered, his face still flushed. "But don't say we didn't warn you." They stalked away, shooting one last glare at Frankie before disappearing.

Daryl turned to her, expecting perhaps anger, or gratitude, or...something. But she was silent. Her mixed eyes were fixed on the ground, her face an unreadable mask.

"Are you okay?" He asked, eyes squinting in the sun.

She slowly looked up at Daryl, those piercing eyes finally meeting his. For a long moment, there was just silence. Then, her voice, a low rumble like distant thunder, broke through the quiet.

"Why?" She asked. It was just one word, but it hung in the air, heavy with questions, with pain, and something else ... .something he couldn't quite place.

Daryl looked shyly at the ground and muttered, "Because ain't one deserve to be treated like that."

She stared at Daryl for another long moment, then nodded once, a tiny, almost imperceptible movement. "Thanks."

He nodded at her, accepting the gratitude. They both stood awkwardly for a beat. "I'm Daryl. Dixon. Daryl Dixon." He offered his hand.

She stared at his fingers then slowly took it, giving a firm shake. "Frankie Gomez."

They shook hands again then Frankie turned and, with a grace that belied her size, walked away, leaving Daryl to just watch her go, frozen to the stop.

What the fuck was going on with him?! He wanted to scream to himself.