"Pretty sure everything is picked over by now," Glenn says from behind the bar. He and Maggie were on a run together. The town itself was about an hour's drive away, far for an average run but they had pretty much picked through all of the local towns and they were in desperate need of more medical supplies.

"Yeah," Maggie replies, searching through the cupboards across the room from him. The two of them didn't usually go on runs together, but Maggie hadn't been out much since the birth of their second son and Glenn figured it'd be good for her to get some air.

Glenn was about to call it quits when he caught sight of a semi-hidden compartment behind the bar. It was well hidden and the possibility of other groups finding it was pretty slim. He pulled back the door, rifled inside for a few seconds, before grinning. "Jackpot," he said, pulling out three state of the art first aid kits along with a couple of hand guns, some batteries, and a few flashlights. Why a bar needed to have three first aid kits was beyond him but he was thankful that they had, it would only add to their rapidly depleting stash of medical supplies. "Look," he said, holding everything up one at a time to show Maggie before he dropped everything into the bag slung over his shoulder.

"I say we call it quits," Maggie replied, glancing out the window. "It's getting pretty dark and we still have an hour's drive back to the prison. You know how they worry when we aren't back on time."

Glenn nodded and did one last inventory check to make sure he had everything before stepping from behind the bar. "Let's go." The two of them stepped out of the bar together, attention on high alert. Despite the fact that this town was relatively untouched by walkers, it never hurt to be a little extra cautious. The two of them were almost to their car when they heard screaming. They glanced at each other for a few seconds before coming to a silent decision. They both took off in the direction of the screaming. Once they arrived, they found a man on his back, deteriorated walker sprawled out on top of him. The walker was getting dangerously close to the man's throat and it was clear to see he couldn't hold him off for much longer. Glenn acted quickly, taking out the walker with just a quick stab of his knife. He wiped the blood off on his jeans before reaching down to roll the walker off the man.

"Thanks," he said standing up. Once he was on his feet he bent over, hands on his knees as he tried to calm his racing heart with deep breaths. "Came out of nowhere."

Glenn ignored him, more focused on searching his body for any bite marks. "You bit?" he asked when he didn't find anything just to be sure.

"No," the man said, standing up to his full height. He was pretty tall, black hair cropped short against his head. He was an older guy, maybe about Hershel's age. The guy was wearing a ripped wife-beater that was now covered in walker guts and blue jeans tucked into a pair of army boots.

Glenn looked around, trying to scope out any other sign of life. When he didn't see anyone in the close vicinity he came to the conclusion that the guy was by himself. "You hurt?" he asked, not taking his hand off the gun that was holstered at his hip, you could never be too careful, especially around someone you had never met before.

"Ankles sore and I think my shoulder's dislocated but overall, I'm good." Glenn watched as the man cracked his neck and straightened his posture. He wasn't sure what the guy was trying to prove. The way the man seemed to dismiss his injuries, like they were nothing but a small setback, was a little nerve wracking, but then again, everyone reacted differently to pain.

"You by yourself?" Glenn asked, clearly taking over the mini interrogation they were having. He glanced over at Maggie for a few seconds to gauge her reaction. He noticed right away that she was regarding the stranger with a confused expression. Maggie had a good sense of character and he knew if she felt something was off with the man, there probably was. He made a mental note to get her opinion as soon as possible.

"Yeah," the man said, scratching absentmindedly at his forearm. "I was with a group a while back but it… didn't work out." He didn't go into much detail about that situation, but Glenn didn't blame him. After all, he had only just met them a few minutes ago.

"It happens," Glenn said. There'd been a few people they had taken in that ended up causing so much trouble they had to ask them to leave. Not everyone was suited for their group but this guy seemed a little different. Sure it was clear that his vibe was setting Maggie off a little bit, but it was at least worth the shot to add him to their group. If for whatever reason it didn't work out, they'd deal with it then. What could be the harm in that?

"How many walkers have you killed, how many people have you killed, and why?" Glenn asked the proverbial three questions, set on listening intently to what he had to see. Despite the fact that the guy was a little weird, Glenn had to admit he was eager to see his perspective on things.

"I've killed walkers, people too," the man said. "I ain't gonna say I haven't when I have. It's what you gotta do. Everyone who's refused to do what's necessary to survive is dead. There ain't no need for pussies in a world like this one. There's no sense of right and wrong when you live in this world, only survival."

Glenn nodded, satisfied with the man's answers despite the fact that it was a little brash. "We've got a pretty decent setup near here, even got someone that resembles a doctor, you could join us if you're up to it." Glenn couldn't be sure if this was the best idea, but he also couldn't leave the man to fend for himself. Worst case scenario, he causes too much tension and they force him to leave; best case scenario, he fits in with the group and becomes an important asset. Either way, they could handle it.

"Why not, there's nothing left for me here. I just got to grab my stuff and I'll be back in a few seconds." Before Glenn could say anything the man was off, limping his way towards the nearest building.

"You're quiet and you've got that look on your face like something bad's about to happen, what's up?" Glenn said, taking this brief moment of solitude to get Maggie's opinions of the guy.

"Could be nothing," Maggie said, eyes never leaving the door that the other man had disappeared into. "He just looks so familiar, like I've seen him before. I don't know though, could just be seeing things."

It was then that the man returned, bag slung over his shoulder, and Glenn wasn't able to answer her. He looked a little closer at him and realized he could see what Maggie was saying. He did look familiar, but there was no way he had met the man before. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all, but there's no way he could take back his offer now. They'd just have to adjust as the situation progressed.

"Ready to go then?" Glenn asked. The man nodded and Glenn and Maggie set off towards their car, the man they had just saved close on their heels.


"Good news," Hershel said as he looked over the man Maggie and Glenn had drug back with them. The man was quiet, had barely spoken two words to him since he met him, and while Hershel found that a little odd, there wasn't really anything he could do. Some people just weren't talkers, especially not when they were in a completely new setting. Hershel was alone with the guy, secluded in the room the group had set aside for medical purposes. The newcomer was sitting on the gurney, leg propped up on a pillow, as Hershel checked over his injuries. "I don't think your leg is broken. 'Course there's no way to be sure without an x-ray machine. I'll wrap it up tightly anyway and I suggest you keep it elevated, don't use it to much. You need to give it time to heal. Wounds like that usually get worse before they get better, especially if you overuse your limb."

"Statements like that," Richard said, "usually come with a bad news as well."

Hershel laughed slightly and nodded. "Yeah, bad news? Your shoulder is definitely dislocated. It's gonna be a pain in the ass to get back in and it'll hurt like hell, but trust me, you'll cause yourself more pain with a dislocated shoulder then you'd get if you let me fix it."

Richard nodded and laid back on the gurney, not really having any other choice. This wasn't the first time he had dislocated his shoulder and he knew what to expect. "Just get it over with."

Hershel nodded and stood up, preparing to pop the man's shoulder back in place. "So what's your story?" he asked, moving the newcomer's limbs into position. "Talking might help distract you from the pain."

"Name's Richard," Hershel heard. He pressed around the shoulder, trying to get a feel of where everything was before he maneuvered everything into place. "I've got two kids who are probably long dead by now and my wife died before the apocalypse hit," Richard said, gritting his teeth in preparation. "I've moved around from group to group, never really staying in one place long enough to make any connections.

"Yeah, I get you. I had a wife once, she died but at least I've got my kids to keep me on track. You've got to be able to hold on to the good things in life or you'll never make it in this world." By now Hershel had noticed the slight stench of alcohol on his breath and that worried him. If this guy was an alcoholic shit could hit the fan when he realized they didn't allow any into the prison. Alcohol made people do stupid things, it was the last thing you should worry about when survival was at stake, and addicts would do anything to get their next glass.

Richard just grunted and clenched his fist. Hershel was a little taken aback by his standoffish attitude, but again, not everyone dealt with social interactions the same way. Hershel finally knew everything he needed to about Richard's injury and place one hand on his shoulder and the other on his arm. He steadied the limb before jamming it back into place. Even though he had warned Richard it was coming, he still let out a high pitched scream when it was popped back into place. "Sonofabitch," Richard cursed, closing his eyes in an attempt to block out the pain.

"I warned you," Hershel said, helping to sit him up. He then opened up the first aid kit and rifled through the contents. There was a bottle of aspirin inside and Hershel took the bottle out before shaking a few into his hand, handing them over to Richard. "I'd give you more but with medical supplies as limited as they are, we can't afford to indulge ourselves. It'll kick in eventually." Hershel didn't mention the real reason he had only given the man two. Sure he needed to conserve medical supplies, but he also wasn't going to give a large dose of pain medication, no matter how trivial it was, to someone who had recently consumed alcohol, who knew how much he had actually ingested. He did seem pretty coherent but there were people who could be completely hammered and still seem all together.

Richard nodded as he took the pills in hand and downed them without water, beggars can't be choosers after all. "Doesn't matter, 'preciate the gesture though."

"That's my job," Hershel said, digging in the first aid kit for more supplies. "I'm gonna wrap your shoulder and ankle up. There's a sling in here as well, I suggest you use it to prevent further damage, at least for a couple of days."

Hershel then set out to bandage the appropriate appendages, being careful not to tighten them so much it cut of their blood supply but tighten enough to provide the proper support. It wasn't long before everything was in place and Hershel was helping him down from the gurney. "All set."

"Thanks," Richard said, nodding his thanks as he flexed his aching muscles.

"Maggie and Glenn took off to check on their kids, guess that leaves me to show you around." Hershel said, leading the way out of the medical room and into the hallway. Richard was quiet as Hershel gave the tour, maybe a little too quiet. He could tell by the way he was reacting that he was paying attention to what Hershel had to say, but he did seem a little off. Hershel wasn't sure this guy was going to be a good fit for their group after all.

"How many people are here?" Richard asked as Hershel lead him throughout the prison.

"Oh about thirty or so. There used to be more but we had a bad outbreak a few years back that took out a lot of our population. We pick up a lot of stragglers though and our people are beginning to have more and more babies. It's nice to see families forge within the prison walls, almost makes life seem a little like it used to be," Hershel said as they came to the common room. "This is the common room. Lot of people spend their free time here and it's where most of us eat. There's more to the prison than what I showed you but I don't want you to strain your ankle too much. You can wait here while I get Rick, he's gonna want to meet you."

"Rick like your leader or something?" Richard asked, sitting down at one of the nearby tables. Hershel wasn't sure but it almost sounded like Richard was trying to challenge him which was never a good sign.

"Something like that," Hershel said. "Wait here, I'll go get him. Put your injured ankle up on the bench next to you, keeping it elevated will help the swelling go down and I can learn more about what damage has been done."

Richard nodded and did as he was told, lifting his leg up to rest on the bench beside him. By the time he was finished Hershel was gone and from his position Richard could see his retreating figure. This place was mighty interesting after all.


"Rick," Hershel said, walking over to where he and Carol were standing in the middle of the garden. It was harvesting season and the two of them were picking the ripe crops. "Glenn and Maggie returned, but they brought back someone with them. He passed Glenn's inspection but I figured you might want to check him out for yourself. He's a little... off."

Rick nodded and stood up from his position on his knees. If Hershel thought there was something a little off, he really needed to check him out. "You wanna come with?" he asked Carol. These meetings didn't always go as planned and he wanted to have backup with him just in case everything went south.

"You know it," she replied, standing up next to him.

"Don't worry about this," Hershel said, gesturing to the half harvested basket of crops. "I'll finish up for you."

Rick wiped his grimy hands on his jeans, trying to clear them of as much dirt as he could, and nodded. "Thanks Hershel," he said and with that, he and Carol were off to meet the new guy.


Daryl had a small break, he wasn't scheduled for watch until tonight and it'd be a couple more days before he needed to go on a hunting trip, and had sworn to Judith he was going to color with her. Call him domesticated but Daryl never backed down on a promise, especially not when it came to Judith. She had a hard enough time given her circumstances and if coloring with her made her happy, who was he too say no? They walk into the common room together, coloring book and crayons in hand. Judith's getting tall, she was only six but she was already up to his chest, and she was every bit as pretty as her Mamma was. When she was older, much older, like in her thirties, she wouldn't have any problem getting a boyfriend. But even at that age Daryl doesn't want to think of her dating.

Judith's talking about what she's learning in the make shift school they had managed to form and all the drama going on with her and her friends. For a six year old in the zombie apocalypse she sure did have a drama filled life. In the roughly six years since they'd found the prison, the group had been taking on a steady increase of families, not to mention their own group having a couple of kids, and they'd decided to set up a system of education that technically represented a school. Their material was limited, you could only find so much in the form of text books these days, and was mainly focused on the basics: reading, writing, and mathematics, but it was something. Beth took on the position of teacher, no one had as much patience with the kids as she did, and she was actually pretty good at it. Not only that but she enjoyed her position, it made her feel like she was doing something worthwhile.

Daryl wasn't paying much attention to what was going on around them, too intent on listening to Judith, and didn't notice the figure sitting at one of the tables. Soon enough Daryl catches sight of the man on the other side of the room, leg propped up on the bench beside him and his shoulder confined in a sling. He stops dead in his tracks, unable to believe his eyes, as the box of crayons slips from his fingertips and lands on the concrete flooring with soft thud. The box explodes on impact, crayons flying every which way, but Daryl isn't paying it no mind. He's too engrossed with the image of the man across the room from him to care.

"Well I'll be damned, look what the cat dragged in," the man says and Daryl finds himself frozen, unable to speak. He never, not in a million years, would have expected to ever lay eyes on the man across from again. He'd left home before the apocalypse had even started and the idea of the nightmare from his past coming back to haunt him was too much to think about. He figured he had died long ago, the idea that he may have survived so foreign to him he didn't know what to say, what to do.

"What are you doing here?" Daryl says in shock, defenses instantly going up as he fights to find the words to say. Daryl's father ignores him, dismissing his question with a single wave of his hand.

"She's a pretty little thing," Richard says, standing up from his seated position and limping across the room so he's standing in front of the two of them. "How old are you sweetheart?" Richard asks as he reaches out a hand to touch Judith's face.

Daryl felt his chest tighten and his posture harden. He knew the kind of man his father was and he wasn't going to stand there and let him openly gawk at Judith like she was a piece of meat. Judith's scared, he can tell even without looking at her by the way she flinches from his hand and clings desperately to his leg, and that's an emotion everyone had tried so hard to prevent her from feeling. She may have only been six but she'd seen so much death and destruction by now she had almost as good of a sense of danger as Daryl had. It doesn't take a genius to sense the malice behind Richard's intentions. Daryl's in front of her in an instant, shielding her with his body so that Richard can no longer touch her. Judith wraps her arms around Daryl's waist and presses her face against the small of his back, trying to seek some form of comfort. She's shaking and Daryl doesn't know how much of this situation she actually understand, all he knows is that his father had reduced Judith to near tears and he was going to make him pay for it. Richard lets out a humorless laugh and Daryl all but growls, body tensing up almost as if he was mama bear poised to protect her cubs.

"Oh calm down princess," he says, taking a few more steps towards Daryl. Daryl notices he's limping, relying heavily on one leg, and tucks that away in case he needs to use it against him. Daryl tries to step back but he's already backed himself up into a corner and he doesn't want to take the chance of knocking over Judith. She's still clinging tight to his waist and Daryl rests a hand over hers, trying to comfort her.

"You know I've always preferred little boys," Richard says, soft enough so that only Daryl can hear him. Daryl's body is so tense it'd take a professional masseuse to work out all the kinks in his corded muscles. By now his heart is pounding so hard it's making it hard for him to think, to do anything more than just stand there in shock. Daryl couldn't think of anything, all his mind was able to produce was an increasing level of fear and anxiety and he hated himself for it. Daryl could usually think of way to get out of every situation, but one word from the man he had thought was dead and he's reduced to the terrified kid he used to be.

"You were such a pretty little thing too, always looked so much like your Mama; that's why I did what I did all those years ago. You're still as every bit as pretty as your Mama was. It's those eyes of yours, every bit as blue as hers." Richard's close enough to touch now and he takes that opportunity to run a hand down his son's cheek, delighting in the way Daryl flinches instantly. Judith whimpers softly. She might not understand exactly what was going on right now but she knew enough to know that it wasn't good. All Daryl wanted to do was reach out and comfort her but that wasn't exactly an option right now. "Don't know why you're acting like that, you were always a fan of my touches; isn't that right Darleena?"

Daryl's frozen, unable to move as his father triggers an avalanche of bad memories. The nights his father would crawl into his bed; the nights he'd take a belt to his back until his skin was bloody and raw; the nights his father would wrap his fingers around his throat until he was on the brink of passing out; the days he'd go to school hungry because his father had refused him yet another meal. He's finding it hard to breathe, hard to think, as his chest tightens even more. It feels as if it's nothing but a twisted ball of pain. He's on the verge of a panic attack and that was the last thing he wanted to happen right now.

He took a series of deep breaths, the ones that Rick always coached him through when this happened, but nothing happened, it wasn't helping this time. He'd never had a panic attack in the open, always back in his cell alone or with Ricks comforting presence there to ground him. He's well aware of Judith's ever tightening grip around his leg and the stench of whiskey pouring off his father in droves, but beyond that, all he can think about was what his father had done to him. Where the old man managed to find liquor in this shit storm they called life Daryl would never know, it definitely wasn't the easiest thing to come by. He's on the verge of collapsing, on the verge of not breathing, when Rick makes an appearance.

"What's going on here?" Rick asks and Daryl is finally able to move, finally able to breathe again. His head clears the second he hears Rick's voice and he snaps out of is mental displacement. He turns to the side and watches as Carol and Rick walk into the room. In a second he has Judith in his arms, hating the way she wraps her arms tight around his neck and buries her face in his shoulder, she's absolutely petrified and part of it was Daryl's fault. He should have never let his father get so close to them. His father had made an advance at Judith, had terrified her, and that was something that Daryl would never let go.

Daryl pushes past his father, not caring that he falls to the ground in a grunt of pain, and strides over to the doorway where Rick and Carol were standing. Daryl passes the shaking six year old over to Carol with a whispered, "Get her out of here." Judith definitely didn't need to see this and he wanted her out of the way in case something terrible happened.

Carol didn't ask any questions, she knew better than that when Daryl had that look on his face. Judith began asking questions the second she was in Carol's arms, she had always been an intuitive child, but Daryl couldn't pay attention to that, he's got his own worries to focus on right now. He watches as Carol retreats from the room, Judith still clutched in her embrace, and Daryl finally feels that last bit of tension ease out of him. At least he no longer had to worry about protecting Judith from his father.

He briefly debates with himself about whether or not he should have handed Judith to Rick, after all he is her father, but if Daryl was being honest, he needed Rick there for him. It may have been a selfish idea but Daryl wasn't sure he could handle this without his ex-lawman. It was presence, more than anything, that grounded him and reminded him where he was. Rick reached out for Daryl as soon as he was sure that Judith was out of harm's way, hands gentle on his shoulder, and Daryl couldn't help but relax instantly. Rick had always had a calming effect on him, even back in Atlanta when they hardly knew each other.

"He fucking you?" Richard spit out, making his presence know when Daryl had almost forgotten he was even there.

Daryl ignored the question, instead choosing to ask one of his own. "What the hell are you doing here?" Daryl said, every bit of his voice dripping with venom. Now that Judith wasn't here, and he didn't have to focus on protecting her, he got angry, angrier than he had been in his entire life. The idea of someone putting an unwanted hand on Judith, even if it was just a tactic to get under his skin, was something that Daryl was never going to forget.

"Didn't you hear? That dark haired bitch and her chink of a boyfriend brought me here, apparently I'm an honored guest," Richard said, every bit as cocky as he had always been.

Daryl grit his teeth and resisted the urge to lunge after him when he heard his father use that derogatory word. Before the apocalypse he wouldn't have thought twice about using himself, but now that he's changed the very sound of it makes his blood boil. It'd been so long since he had heard anything like that and he had almost forgotten just how intolerant the world could be. "Not anymore you aren't, get out." Daryl stood with his hands balled into fists, fury emanating off of him in waves.

"Whoa, Daryl, don't be rash," Rick said, resting a hand on Daryl's arm to try and calm him down. Daryl pulled away from the touch, shocking Rick, and growled. In Rick's defense, he didn't know the full story, but he didn't care at the moment. All he wanted to do was make sure his father was far away from this prison and the people he cared about.

"Yeah Darleena, listen to your faggot of a boyfriend," Richard sneered. Daryl lunged at the man, only to be held back by Rick's arms around his waist.

"Daryl that's enough," Rick said, trying to get him to calm down. Clearly the two of them had their issues, and despite the fact he wasn't sure what those issues were there wasn't a doubt in his mind that it was justifiable, but he wasn't about to let him attack a defenseless man in the middle of the prison's common room.

"Do not tell me that's enough," Daryl said, pulling harshly away from Ricks' grasp. "I have every right to be as angry as I am." Daryl turned so he was facing his father, defensive scowl presiding over any other expression. "You don't get to come into my home, acting like you're the cock of the walk, and insult my family. You don't get to refer to Rick like that, you don't get to make a pass at Judith, and you certainly don't get to stay here. This is my territory, my people, and I'm not going to let you waltz in here and insult the people I care about. You scared Judith, and that's something I'll never forgive."

"Just my luck," Richard murmurs. "I lost both my kids long ago and the one I actually run into again has turned into a pussy. 'You hurt my feelings you mean old man,'" Richard mocks, limply holding his wrist in a way that is clearly supposed to be offensive. "Please. I didn't raise you to be no pussy boy, at least if I had ran into Merle he'd be a real man, not this façade you're trying to pull. You're a disgrace to the Dixon name." Richard took a step forward and spits at Daryl, hitting him in the eye. Snot mixed with spit starts to slip down his face and Daryl wipes at with his sleeve.

He's about to say something but Rick beats him to it. In a second he's on the man, wrenching his hands behind his back in a way that has to be agonizing for that shoulder of his. Sure enough, Richard lets out a curse of pain but Rick doesn't care. He's got his handcuffs out and around Richard's wrist so fast he probably broke a record. After he's sure the cuffs are secure he spins him around and gets a good look at him. Daryl just stand there, not sure what he should be doing. "You Daryl's father?"

Richard glares at Rick and tries to head-butt him but Rick pulls back just in time to avoid it. "I'm gonna take that as a yes," he says before pulling back his fast and slamming it into the Richard's eyes. He falls hard, already injured shoulder and ankle throbbing as he hits the ground.

Daryl's so in shock he doesn't do anything, just watches as Rick takes another swing at his father, knocking the breath out of him. Rick probably would have continued if Tyreese hadn't shown up, Carol must have called in reinforcements. Tyreese has his arms around Rick in a second, dragging him back before he can get in any more hits. "You son of a bitch," he yells, trying to get free from Tyreese's hold but he can't. Rick may be strong, but Tyreese is much stronger than him. "You fucking bastard. Good people have died, people who had many more years to live, and you're the one fucking survived? You worthless piece of shit, I'll end you. After everything you've done to Daryl, you think you can talk to him like that? You don't deserve to look at him. You don't deserve to live, especially not after what you tried to do with my daughter you uncultured swine."

Daryl has seen Rick in many different forms of anger, but this is something he's never seen before. The man is rabid with hatred, screaming and yelling at his father as he tries to break free of Tyreese's iron clad grip. Daryl's got to admit, seeing Rick come to his defense is sort of heartwarming, but totally unneeded. The last thing he needed was for Rick to take out his old man. Sure he hated the man with every inch of his being, and he definitely wanted him dead, but he didn't want Rick to have to do it. Richard was subdued, he couldn't hurt anyone, and that was enough for him. "Rick," Daryl says, stepping closer to him. He's still in Tyreese's hold, a good thing too because he's still trying to fight to get free of his hold. Daryl rests a hand on his neck, trying to get him to calm down. "Rick stop." At the sound of Daryl's voice he stops his struggling.

After a few seconds of calm, Tyreese releases his hold and him and Mathew, a guy who had shown up at the prison a few months ago with his twin sons, hauls Richard to his feet. "What do you want us to do with him?"

"Put him in an empty cell until we can decide what to do," Rick says, snaking an arm around Daryl's waist in an attempt to calm both him and himself down, a gesture for which Daryl is grateful for. Daryl catches sight of Carol in the doorway, no Judith in her arms, and silently thanks her. Carol just nods and retreats, fully willing to give the two of them some privacy.

Once Tyreese and Mathew leave with Richard it's just the two of them. Daryl's quiet, quieter than he has been all day as he tries to process what just happened. Rick, bless his soul, doesn't do anything, just waits for a cue from Daryl to tell him what to do. Daryl's breathing is uneven and his head hurts so bad he can hardly see. He is having a hard time processing everything. There are so many emotions filtering through him; pain, fear, anger, and he'd never been good at sorting through them.

It's a few minutes after Richard was removed when Daryl's shoulders start to heave, signaling that something was about to happen. That movement is all it takes for Rick to cross the few inches separating the two of them. In an instant he has Daryl in his arms, arms wrapped tight around the archer's back. Daryl starts to shake, body clearly going through the motions of sobbing without making a sound. Daryl's got his hands wrapped tightly around him, face buried in that spot where shoulder meets neck, and his entire body is shaking, shoulders moving up and down quickly. Rick's skin is wet so he knows that Daryl is crying but he doesn't comment on it, just lets Daryl react in a way that makes sense to him. He's known Daryl for a long time, had been there for him through everything, and knew every one of his signals by heart. Right now, what Daryl needed was Rick to just stand there and be something that he can lean on. He doesn't need to talk, he won't talk until he's completely ready, all he needs is a support system.

"Why?" Daryl asks a few minutes later, arms so tight around Rick that it's almost hard for him breathe, but he doesn't dare pull away. "Why me? Why'd he have to come back, why'd he have to bring all this shit with him, why does he always have to come in and ruin my life."

Rick doesn't say anything, just guides Daryl over to the nearby wall. Even though Daryl's talking it's clear to him that going into the details of it all right now is not what he needs. All he needs is for Rick to be there, let him lean on him while he tries to sort through the mess that is his head. Rick slides down the wall, pulling Daryl with him, and the two of them lean against each other, relishing in the comfort they always provide. Rick wraps his arm around Daryl's waist and Daryl takes it upon himself to lean against Rick's side, turning his face slightly so it's pressed against the smooth skin of his neck. He doesn't want to talk right now, but knows that eventually he's going to have to. Daryl wasn't an open person and he got easily confused by his emotions. It was hard for him to confide in anyone that wasn't Rick, and Daryl wasn't willing to talk to him until he had made sense of his emotions completely.

"Don' wanna talk," Daryl mumbles, suddenly feeling exhausted, and he knows that Rick's gonna understand, he always understands.

"I know, let's just sit here a while, relax," Rick says. He's in no hurry to get anywhere else and as far as Rick's concerned, his only priority for the rest of the day is to provide Daryl with whatever comfort he needs. They can deal with everything else later.

They sit like that for a while, not speaking, just relishing in each other's company. Daryl's almost asleep and Rick isn't that far after him when they hear hesitant footsteps. Daryl looks up to see Judith standing there, hands clasped together in front of her with a worried expression on her face. He's not sure how long it's been since Richard was taken away, but he's sure that Carol had made sure Judith stayed away long enough to give him and Rick privacy. Sometimes he believed that woman understood more about their relationship than they did.

"Hey munchkin," Daryl says, reaching out for Judith. Judith is in his arms instantly, hugging his neck as if it's her only lifeline to reality.

"That was scary," she whispers, shifting slightly so she's sitting halfway on both of their laps.

Daryl smiles sadly and presses a kiss against her temple. "Yeah, I'm sorry that happened."

"Is he a bad man?" Judith asks and suddenly Daryl's struck by just how young she is. In the world they lived in Judith had to deal with a lot of adult issues, which made her seem older than she actually was. Truth of the matter was that she was only six, despite how wise she seemed sometimes, and still maintained a level of innocence that surprised Daryl to this day.

"Yeah, he is," Daryl says, absentmindedly running his fingers through her hair.

There's a slight pause before she asks her next question and Daryl figures she's probably trying to decide if she should ask it or not. "Did you kill him?"

Rick and Daryl share a look before he answers. "No we didn't," Rick says softly. "Tomorrow we're going to let him go, make sure he can never come back again."

"Good," Judith says, snuggling against Rick and Daryl both, the only stable parental figures she had ever known. "He made my Daryl sad," she says, looking up at Daryl. "I don't like to see you sad."

Daryl just smiles. "I'm okay baby," he says, and he knows that no matter what happened next, that was the truth.