Bleeding out. Fading out. Daryl Dixon, on some piece of shit highway, too far gone to remember its name. Still, here he was. Motorcycle turned to wreckage - head turned to trauma - body bent, and bruised, and broken; the asphalt hot under his back, stretching on endlessly. The man who had hit him, and the car, both seemed unscathed from his position, though the sun was too much in his eyes to be sure. Either way, he could hear him on the phone. Pieces of words. Fragments of sentences.

" - came outta nowhere," lie, "there's a lot of blood," maybe true, "- you gotta tell them to hurry up. What if he dies?"

The blackness came then and swept him under, receding only long enough to see a face. A sweet, young face. Skin glowing like a honey moon. And her hair, all that hair - as endless as this damned highway - and blue eyes; big, round blue eyes. Her mouth was moving but he couldn't hear her. He was sure she was telling him it would be alright. It'll all be alright.

Sir, just stay with us, okay? It's going to be alright. What else was an angel of mercy supposed to say? He could feel her hand on his face, smooth and cool, and then, for a long while, there was nothing...

"You think he's going to be okay?" Noah asked her.

Beth shrugged her shoulders looking at her friend. They had only been working as EMTs for a couple of years - and only working together for one - but he was still her best friend. Noah was a Good Guy, capital G squared, and Beth had known it from the moment she'd met him. Their bond had been that immediate.

"He seems tough enough," Beth said slowly, walking with Noah to her parked car. "Crash alone should've been enough to kill him, but he's still hanging on."

"In a coma," Noah reminded her.

"Still better than dead," she said. "He could wake up. He could wake up any second."

"It's not likely," Noah said and she shot him a sharp look. "What? That's what the doctor said."

"Oh, because the doctors are always right. What about Dr. Jacobson? Don't pretend that guy knows his butt from his elbow - or the patient's for that matter."

"You're right. I'm sure he goes around putting slings on butts all the time."

"I wouldn't be surprised," Beth said. "You need a ride or what?"

"It's been a week, Beth," Noah said.

"Huh?"

"Dixon - it's been a week, and no one has visited that guy. They got a hold of the brother briefly, but not one sighting of him."

"Are you kidding me?" she asked. "His brother could be dying in there."

"I was thinking about stopping by after my shift. Maybe look in on him. Y'wanna come?"

"Yeah. I guess he could do with some cheering up," Beth said.

"I was thinking maybe you should bring your guitar."

"God, no," Beth said. "No one in here knows I sing. I'd like to keep it that way."

"Beth, the only thing that guy has had to listen to in the past week has been the nurses outside the doorway complaining that computer systems keep crashing."

"One song. And don't act like you're doing this for him."

Daryl. That was his name. He looked smaller in the hospital bed. It made Beth's stomach hurt. He hadn't even looked this small lying on the road, blood dripping from wounds she had been trying frantically to staunch. She had left her guitar in its case, leaning against the wall by the shut door. Noah was talking animatedly to the unconscious man, telling him all about the mischief his brothers got up to.

"Believe me, I get it man," Noah told him. "They are a pain in the ass, but he'll show up for you, I bet. Isn't that right, Beth?"

"Yeah, I'm sure he'll make it. My brother's late for everything. Drives me bonkers."

"And Maggie," Noah added.

"True, but she just apologizes so frantically that you can't stay angry at her. It's annoying. Possibly more annoying than the lateness."

Beth let Noah take over again. It wasn't the first time he had come to visit a patient who had no one else. In fact, it was a usual practice for him. He basically lived at the hospital. While Beth cared about people - God, did she ever - she tried to keep it professional. Losing people hurt too much. She looked down at Daryl's large hands, willing them to move.

"Beth?" Noah asked, in a way that led her to believe she had missed what he was saying completely.

"Huh?"

"I said you brought your guitar. I'm sure Daryl here would love to hear a song," Noah said. "And me, obviously. So what are you going to play us?"

Beth groaned, getting up and walking over to her guitar case. Once she had opened it, she sat on the edge on the bed by Daryl's feet and plucked at a few strings, trying to stall for time. After a few chords, she began to sing:

Of all the money that e'er I had
I've spent it in good company
And all the harm that e'er I've done
Alas it was to none but me
And all I've done for want of wit
To memory now I can't recall
So fill to me the parting glass
Good night and joy be with you all...

Her voice was sweet; drifting over the dark, cold prison field, drawing him closer to the crack and pop of the fire. Beth - shy and quiet - making this hard world soft for just a moment; making this place home, in a way he had never known, and drawing him closer to the fire.