The world had gone to shit, least as far as he could tell. There wasn't much communication coming in from around the globe now. That had started to conk out about a month ago. Far as Daryl Dixon knew, he could be one of the last people on Earth, well, one of the last healthy survivors or whatever the increasingly garbled transmissions had been calling the unaffected when this all began.

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Daryl sat down against the rough bark of a tree to take a breather setting his beloved crossbow on the springy earth beside him. He scoffed quietly at the absurdity of it all as he thought back on what had brought him and his brother Merle into this situation in the first place. Leaning his back against the tree and allowing himself some deep breaths, though still keeping a sharp ear open, he warily let all those images trickle through his mind.

It was as if the disease had exploded into the world overnight, people started dropping dead as far as the eye could see and each one reportedly presumed dead. The phenomenon was so large-spread that doctors, scientists, the entire CDC even jumped into action and took hundreds and hundreds of tests. That was one thing Daryl gave them credit for, they certainly didn't waste any time.

"Fuckin' fat lot of good that did though in the end, didn' it..." He muttered to himself before slipping back into his memories.

People had panicked of course but the government saw no reason to worry just yet, they had dealt with pandemics like this before, they assured the people of the world that everything would be just fine.

Until the deceased bodies began to move of their own accord. And not just a simple twitch, they clawed and snarled and snatched at their healthy counterpart's flesh like a rabid dog digging into a fresh steak...

It was just then that Daryl jolted out of his walk down memory lane, rubbing a grubby hand across his sun burnt forehead. That was enough remembering for the moment, he knew from past experience that if he went too deep too quickly he would certainly break down, and that was something a Dixon would scoff at in any situation. The Dixon men weren't exactly known for showing emotion, unless it was rage and cussing out anyone in their vicinity. In this new world, any sign of weakness could cost you your life. This world was different and bizarre and completely mental. This world was currently falling to what could, and had been, compared to an actual undead apocalypse.

Chewing on the skin at the edge of the thumb he turned the words over in his mind. Apocalypse. Undead. They seemed too 'Blockbuster movie' for what was really happening, too…unbelievable. He had stuck to using his own names when referring to those things, 'motherless, poxy bastards' being one. Walkers being the simplest, and most appropriate.

Because that's all they did.

They walked.

They ate.

They ripped the flesh off of screaming mothers, fathers, teachers, and babies, anyone they could get their rotting hands on.

And then they walked again. Their only intent was finding their next meal.

Daryl didn't know if they were legitimately dead or not, but he did know that if one got a chomp out of you that was the end. At that point it was simply a decision between denying what had happened and letting yourself become one of them, or opting out and putting a bullet through your brain. Either way, it was a death sentence.

He shook the thought from his head and groaned slightly when he lifted his strong body off the ground, he had put his body through some tough shit and had taken many beatings from that drunken bastard of a father but his muscles still hated him for the exertion he had put on it during the last month. He pushed his weary body on in no particular direction, using the excuse of trying to track a deer to get away from Merle for a bit, seeing as the bastard was strung out on whatever combination of drugs he had managed to grab as they fled their trailer.

"Brings his fuckin' stash but didn' think to grab a can or two of food. Even forgo' the goddamn booze…" He thought as he grit his teeth in frustration at the older Dixon.

But for now he was enjoying the relative peace of the forest he was in. For the past month his ears had been bombarded by the animistic growls the infected created and Merle's constant complaining and drug-induced rants about "them fucking' niggers causing' this" and "Where the fuck am I suppose' to find some goddamn pussy now!" and as he walked along quietly he idly wondered if animals could be infected too, or if this was just mankind's punishment for being a bunch of pricks. He stopped suddenly when he heard the tell-tale rustle of a rabbit hopping around.

"Dinner is served, I guess." He thought to himself and stealthily aimed his bow at the furry creature.

There was a sharp twang and then the rabbit was down. If there was one thing Daryl was thankful for in the world right now, it's that he was a damn good hunter and tracker, he didn't think he would have survived this long without that particular skill. Guess his daddy and dope head of a brother always leaving him alone as a kid had been good for something, he thought to himself with a derisive snort.

"Not exactly a sirloin, but it'll do…" He said to himself as he eyed the small creature.

He would take what he would get, not like he had grown up eating 5 star dinners every night anyway.

The light was beginning to fade at that point but it was as if the sky knew the state of the earth and was commiserating with it, there was no glowing sunset today, only a faint pink light across the entire horizon. Daryl decided to make his way back to his, well Merle's, truck, even for someone as experienced in the woods as he was, being alone in the dark wasn't safe anymore and his light was fading fast. He was sincerely hoping that both the truck and his brother were untouched by looters or Walkers. His big brother could be an asshole but he was still family, something a lot of people would kill for right now.

As he wound his way through the tall, majestic pines, there was a slight shuffling some yards away behind him. His head whipped around, senses heightening and body tensing immediately, the lean muscles coiling in anticipation. The shuffling stopped a few seconds later as he saw a small, brown squirrel scurry down a wide tree trunk, and his body relaxed.

"Look at you Daryl, getting all worked up over a little bushy-tailed rat." He muttered to himself darkly, his body burned from the tension that had just locked up his muscles.

He turned back around and came face to face with the awful, decaying face of a Walker. Strangely enough he was surprised he hadn't smelled him first as the scent of decaying teeth and flesh hit him full force and his eyes watered from it. It was the smell of death and when his own clear eyes flicked up to the red tinged ones of the thing in front of him, he could see they were dead too. And then his instincts snapped into place and he scrambled for the knife at his thigh while trying to keep the thing at arm's length, the malnourished Walker was clutching at his torn flannel driven by nothing more than the desire to taste the living man's flesh in his bloated stomach.

The heavy knife went through straight into the side of the mangled, rotting head causing him - it - to let out a strangled gurgle and promptly drop to the ground.

Daryl let out a long breath. He almost hated that this came so easy to him now, that he could so smoothly jab a knife into a human being's brain. But deep down he knew they weren't really human anymore and that's why he was so efficient about it, but the fact that he could just as easily become one of them terrified him. Almost as much as the fact that he could still see a glimpse of a sick, dying person behind the wild eyes when he put them down. Not that he would admit that to anyone, certainly not his big brother, Merle would never let him live it down, accuse him of "losing his balls and becomin' a goddamn pussy".

He stood there a moment longer, chastising himself now for letting his guard down. It didn't matter how pretty the world looked or how peaceful it seemed, if you let your guard down, you would die.

The light was almost completely gone now when a voice spoke from his left and behind him.

"Close call, huh?" It was a woman's voice, not much younger than him by the sounds of it.

Daryl didn't react for a second, not expecting another person to be in the woods near him. Once he decided he wasn't hallucinating, he responded.

"Yeah. Guess so." His guard was up. He'd seen enough lately, seen enough his whole life, to know not to trust anyone right away, even if it was a lady.

He turned around and took a few steps towards the voice and his eyes saw the dark outline of a tent in the middle of a small clearing.

"Sure you wanna do that?" The woman asked with something in her voice that he couldn't quite decipher.

"Some reason I shouldn'?" He asked gruffly.

"Well, from what I've been seeing lately, other survivors don't particularly gravitate toward the infected." She said with a wiry smirk that he couldn't quite see, but heard.

"You got bit." It wasn't a question, simply a statement more for himself than anything.

"Yep, but hey thanks for killing the dummy that did it, would've done it myself but know, handicapped now and all."

"Ya well, had to do somethin' I guess." He replied awkwardly.

"Well…anyways listen I'm enjoying our little chat but this long distance thing isn't my thing and well, if I'm about to bite the bullet so to speak I might as well see a human face before I go right? Closure and all that crap."

His quick mind weighed all the possibilities but he eventually decided he was armed enough to put her down if need be, and so he shuffled over to her, his social skills had never been the greatest but now they were just downright terrible.

"Oh and it's a handsome face as well, lucky me!" The thin woman teased, giving him a wink.

Daryl merely grunted, grateful that it was too dark for her to see the slight blush on his sharp cheekbones.

"So I figure I have about another hour or so before I'm gone, and I like stories, so what's yours stranger?"

"Name's Daryl" He corrected her. If he had anything left in this world it was his identity.

"Nice to meet you Daryl, I'd tell you mine but I think it's better if you don't know."

"An' why's tha'?" He questioned.

"Well, I may be strong but even I can't put a pistol to my own brain, and since you're the only other breathing thing here, I was hoping you'd do it for me. Figured it's just easier if you don't know me." She continued. "But I do want to know about you, if you're not too busy with something else Chatty Cathy." She teased again.

Daryl was trying to wrap his mind around her request, when she prodded him weakly with a thin leg, her warm blue eyes meeting his icy ones.

"So you going to get on with it or am I going to have to start making conversation with our friend over there?" She nodded her head in the direction of the now twice dead Walker.

Daryl sighed, well, what the hell... Girl needs someone to talk to before she goes I guess…we both do, not like Merle's gonna care, he'll jus' hope I got some pussy before she kicked the bucket, he added as an afterthought to himself.

He didn't really want to go into the details of his childhood; too much pain and not enough love for him to relive and opted instead to tell her how he got to be where he was today. She asked to make a small fire and he did so immediately, her entire body was shivering and her face was paler than it had been a few minutes ago. Daryl Dixon may be rough around the edges, but he knew to treat a women right, his ma had made sure he remembered that.

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When Daryl had finished his story, and glanced up at the girl nervously, he saw an expression he hadn't seen in a very long time. Humanity. Compassion. Empathy.

He looked down again and stroked his defined jaw before chewing at the edge of his thumb again, realizing that he also saw that she was going, he could almost see the fever burning off of her pale forehead and he considered. Could he put another human being, a still breathing human being, down like the Walker he had just stuck a blade through? He didn't know, but when she handed him her pistol, and he saw the pain she was in, and the pleading in her eyes, he knew he had to. If it was him, he'd want the same thing. He'd thank her for it in fact.

She was strangely calm when he raised the barrel to her damp forehead, content even. He continued to battle with himself. He didn't know if he could live with this on his shoulders. Wouldn't this be giving up what he had fought so hard over the past month to keep? Wouldn't doing this break any of the humanity and life he still had inside of him.

The girl obviously could see his inner turmoil and she spoke to him quietly, her soft voice calming him.

"It's okay," she said. "I know it seems like the wrong thing to do but this isn't what will make you less human, leaving me to become the exact opposite of what you're trying to fight off will. Humanity isn't always kind to us, but if it's my time to go, it's my time to go. Please don't deny me that final peace, and don't blame yourself. The fact that you came and sat with me, opened up to me, even with my insides dissolving into a monster, THAT is what makes you human." She finished, looking into his damp eyes simply giving him the look he needed.

Daryl wasn't able to find any words for her, being a man of few of them in the first place, but he also knew she didn't need them from him. She needed the relief that one bullet would bring, like the relief of a cold can of beer on a hot, Georgia day.

He clicked the safety off, and she murmured.

"Ellie. My name is Ellie."

The shot rang through the dense Georgian forest and then faded to nothing.

Daryl walked slowly in the direction of his truck and brother, who was impatiently hoping he'd found them some grub, Ellie's words flowing through him, and he realized he felt peaceful, and alive. He felt more human in this moment than he ever had before.