Okay, I've got three different realities in this one. The one in all italics is the past.

I also introduce in the actual reality (the one where Daryl's waiting for Andrea to snap out of it) the name of Andrea and Daryl's daughter. I'll try to answer any questions you have!

A Little Bit Broken

"If I smile and don't believe,
Soon I know I'll wake from this dream,
Don't try to fix me, I'm not broken,
Hello. I am the lie living for you so you can hide.
Don't cry." - Evanescence

"Andrea, sweetie," Carol spoke. "You've got to move so I can change the sheets." Monotonously, Andrea stood, blank look in her eye, and moved over to the window. Carol watched with sad eyes. Andrea was her newest patient. She was only allowed two, same as all the other caretakers in the asylum. The other was a man, stronger than her. He'd strike out at nothing, sometimes hurting himself, sometimes hurting others. She had a few bruises, but nothing she couldn't handle.

Andrea, though, was much more complacent. She listened to Carol, but wouldn't reply. She was always in the dreamlike state, able to hear but unable to comprehend. Carol could tell her to move somewhere or to shower or eat and she would. She wouldn't say anything about it, only listen and obey. The only thing Andrea seemed to control herself was when she needed to use the bathroom.

Carol thought it sweet how the blonde was visited often. Her younger sister and her husband would come in every visiting day(Thursdays and Mondays). Every once in a while a friend would visit, stop in to check up on her. She had never had a patient visited as often as that. She rarely had a patient that was visited at all.

That Thursday, Amy had come in. She pulled a chair over by her older sister at the window. "Hey, Andrea," the younger woman stated. "Any chance you'll snap out of this yet?" There, of course, was no answer from the woman as she stared out of the window, not really focusing on anything. Amy sighed. "I won't be able to visit on Monday." She shrugged, frowning. "I have a huge test that I can't miss. Even to visit a sick relative. College sucks that way, huh?" Andrea was forever silent, eyes straight forward. "Daryl said he'd be in soon. He'll spend as long as he can with you, too. He called into work." Amy talked for an hour, until Daryl finally did come in. She informed Andrea of how the case she had been working was taken over by her her co-worker, Jade. She told of T-Dog's new girlfriend, their father's anxiety, and how she'd send Glenn in to take her spot on Monday, so Andrea would still be visited twice that day. Daryl walked in just as Amy was saying good bye. "I'll see you next Thursday, okay? Get better!" Amy turned around and saw him. "Oh, hey, big bro. Take care of her!" She gave him a smile before exiting.

Daryl looked at Andrea who had moved over to sit on the edge of the bed. She was picking at a lose thread on her sleeve this time. "... She's the most optimistic person I ever met," he said, looking at his catatonic wife. He sat down besides her, murmuring in a low voice.

Anger flooded through Andrea. Glenn was out there, getting a man who had ruined their chances to escape. She hadn't even met him and she wanted to murder him. That was mainly the reason why that, when the door opened to let in her friend and the accused, she grabbed him and pushed him back against whatever was there. She pushed her gun close to his face. "You son of a bitch! We're all going to die here now, because of you!"

"Andrea! Andrea, stop!" Glenn begged, trying to pull her off of the startled man. The blonde let out a frustrated growl and let go of the man's shirt. "We can't go back now! There's no way we can get through the walkers out there! We're dead. And I'll never see my sister again."

"Girl, cool it..." T-Dog said, setting a hand on her shoulder. She shrugged it off, dragging a hand down her face.

"I'm sorry. We can't do anything until tomorrow," Rick said, shaking his head gently.

Andrea's face darkened, a deep, angry scowl replacing the desperation that had been there before. Tears continued out of her eyes. "What do you mean? My daughter's missing!" Daryl was besides her, just as angry though he held it in. "She's been gone for over five hours! Why the hell wouldn't you start looking?"

"I'm sorry, but we can't initiate a search until twenty four hours after the person has gone missing," Shane added from his spot besides Rick. "You said she never came home from school, right? But the busdriver reported she was dropped off? Maybe she went with a friend to their house."

"We asked our neighbors already! And there's only twenty feet between her bus stop and our house!" She slammed her fist down on the table. "Our daughter is missing and you aren't doing a damn thing about it!" The blonde let out a frustrated growl and whirled around, charging out of the sheriff's office. Daryl followed at a slower pace, only catching up to her once she had climbed into the car. She was curled in the passenger's seat, crying. He slipped into the driver's side.

"Andrea..." he said softly as he put a hand on her shoulder. She shrugged it off.

"Drive me home, Daryl..."

Daryl slipped into his house. It was achingly empty now. Andrea was at that place, that horrible place, and their daughter... Oh god, she wouldn't ever come home. He tossed his keys down on the counter. They clinked together, metal on metal, echoing through the abode. He sighed, kicking his shoes into the corner by the door.

Collapsing on the couch, he put his hand to his forehead. He almost wanted to get a beer, sit back and drink while the silence prevailed. But he wasn't going to cope like his father had. Drink away the pain and the sorrow. He wouldn't forgive himself if he did that or for inevitably forsaking Andrea during it. Alcohal was the devil in their house. At times, they might have wine. If they ever wanted anything stronger, they'd go to the bar. But they hadn't gotten drunk since before their daughter had been born. And Daryl was determined not to break that streak.

He leaned forward, picking up the picture that was resting facedown on the coffee table. Andrea had taken it down and cried over it. He could still see the water marks where the tears had dried after she had tossed it down and sobbed against his chest. It was a picture of the people he had come to know as family. Andrea, Dale, Amy. And his daughter. The eight year old with her mama's hair and her daddy's eyes.

Sophia.