Notes

This is a slow burn rickyl fic, plus extras. I know where it's going, but I'll take my time getting there. It's not entirely straightforward, there will be heartache and confusion and a lot of soul searching. There will also be some original characters. Not a Mary Sue, I promise.

-.-

"Daryl?"

He gave a start at the sound of his name, unexpected here among these strangers. Looking up from the walker he had just dispatched Daryl saw that they were done, finally. A tall, dark-haired woman at the other end of the clearing was still grappling with a straggler but as Daryl watched she buried her knife hilt-deep in its head.

Daryl looked down at the woman crouching by his feet. It had been her who had said his name, and with a jolt in his gut he realized who she was. He stared into her dark blue eyes, unable to move for a moment. There was a memory, buried deep at the back of his brain. A sharp pain in his upper left arm. Unthinking the fingers of his right hand closed around the spot. Realizing what he was doing Daryl let the hand drop quickly.

She had seen, he was sure of it, and in her eyes he saw the memory, too. And he saw something else.

Pity? Fear?

Her eyes flicked from side to side, as if she was expecting to see someone else.

"Dr. Fernia?" Daryl's voice sounded dry as sandpaper to himself.

She focused back on him. "Sara, please…"

There came a groan from the man lying prone by her side. Sara glanced down to where she was pressing a rag against his shoulder. The deep wound was bleeding heavily, and Daryl recognized it as a walker bite. Sara's arms were drenched in blood up to the elbows, and the sight made Daryl feel oddly queasy.

"He's not gonna make it." It came out before he could stop himself.

Sara looked up, and the knowledge was in her eyes. There was sadness, and fury, and Daryl felt the same emotions well up in him.

"Sorry," he added.

"Thank you." She turned back to the man, and Daryl squatted by her side. His mind felt strangely dull, reeling with the shock of the unexpected encounter.

"Sara, darling…"

With difficulty Daryl focused on the dying stranger. The man's hand came up, and Sara took it with a suppressed little sob. Daryl wondered briefly what these two were to each other. The man might have been in his late fifties, his hair graying but his body still strong, powerful and commanding, even lying injured on the ground.

Another reminder that it could hit anyone, at any time.

Daryl saw movement in the corner of his eye and he shifted slightly, surveying the clearing. The other two women were edging slowly closer, each holding on to the shoulders of a teenager of thirteen, maybe fourteen years old. One was a girl, the other a boy.

"Oh Miles," he heard Sara say now, and turned his attention back to her. "I'm so sorry…"

"Don't be sad. We knew it would happen to one of us eventually. I'd rather it be me. Now I'll be back with Elaine soon…" The stranger glanced at Daryl. "And who are you, if I may ask?"

There was no hostility in the question. The eyes that regarded Daryl were calm and clear, but they were sharp and calculating, too. The stranger was sizing him up. Daryl instinctively felt that this man would have been a great addition to their group.

"Name's Daryl," he said. "My camp's near here."

That was what Daryl was out here for, to find people and bring them in if they seemed decent. Rick had been the first to voice it. Daryl had a knack for it, his instinct found the good and avoided the bad. And bringing back a doctor would make this a better than average day. Even if… but Daryl didn't allow his mind to go there just now. Instead he focused back on the man lying before him.

The stranger regarded him with an appraising look. "Will you do me a favor, Daryl?"

Sara placed a hand against the man's face. "I'll do it, Miles. You would, for me."

"I can't let you do that, darling." There was sadness in his voice but Miles kept looking at Daryl. "You got a gun?"

Daryl nodded and pulled the .45 pistol from his waistband that Rick insisted he carry as well as the crossbow.

"You sure about this?"

"Yes." The man's eyes were boring into Daryl's. "And I need you to do something else."

"What's that?"

"Take care of Sara, for me."

"Miles…"

He turned his head at last and smiled an almost fatherly smile. "Hush, darling, just this once. Let me die with hope."

Daryl glanced at the woman. Her lips were a thin line in her pale face, and there were tears brimming in her eyes. She wiped them away almost angrily.

"All right," she said and bent down to kiss the dying man on the forehead. When she straightened up again she motioned at Daryl. "Do it, then."

Daryl put one knee on the ground to steady himself. "Might want to step away, doc."

But she shook her head, just as he had expected. "I'm staying right here."

Miles smiled again, now looking feverish, and his mouth was beginning to tremble.

"That's my brave Sara." His eyes closed and he whispered, "It's time."

Daryl cocked the gun and placed the barrel against the man's temple.

"Thank you," Miles said. Daryl pulled the trigger.

The shot rang across the clearing, startling the birds from the trees. Daryl saw Sara shudder. Her eyes never left Miles's face.