Note: Thank you so much for your lovely and awesome reviews. 3 They made my day, especially since this is the first fic I ever finished writing. They really mean a lot, so thank you! :)

To all the ones who already may read the story: I cut the story in two halfs now, story is still the same as before, though.

Have fun reading!

The sudden loss of the tight grip around her wrist felt wrong.

She scrambled along the floor, on the other side of the path, a hand protectively covering Judith's small head. Her eyes were burning as suddenly they were left in complete darkness. She didn't know where to look, what was upside down and what not.

Her outstretched hand connected with cold resistance.

Hastily, she backed up, her back tightly pressed again the welcoming cool wall. Judith's sobs were cutting in the darkness.

Then rough, unwelcomed hands were touching her, pulling at her. She didn't pay attention while she scrambled to the other side of the narrow hallway, didn't know what was happening. She just knew that walkers wouldn't strike a blow. So that, that was definitely not a walker. But it didn't make him any less dangerous.

"Oh God ..." she yelped, pushing her upper body even further against the wall.

She kicked with her right leg, connecting with soft, human flesh. A shoulder.

It stopped him split second before the hands were back, strong hands fastening somewhere on the hem of her shirt, pulling her down, away from the wall. With a thud, her head met the floor. She scrambled trying to kick him again, but the impact on her head left her uncoordinated.

Massive hands were pressing down on her legs, keeping them from further trashing. Panic rose inside her chest. The hands reached for her arm, digging hard into her smooth and tender flesh.

Then they were gone, drawn away from her.

She backed away, pulling Judith close. She heard shuffles, angry muffling. Cries of pain, a loud thud, a sickening crack, then silence.

Her eyes scanned through the blackness, trying to find a spot she could recognize. Moans from far away made their way closer.

"Daryl?", she whispered, it was barely audible. She was so full of fear; she thought she was going to be sick. She willed her ears to strain, to hear, but there was nothing. She held her breath, frantically blinking against the blackness.

She felt completely paralyzed.

Wetting her cracked lips, she tried again: "Dary-"

Beth shrieked, as something pushed against the denim of her jeans and another pair of hands suddenly touched her legs. They were rough, but different this time.

But just as fast as the hands came, they flinched away, as if burned.

"Woah, woah. It's me.", a familiar voice rasped. "You okay? Litte asskicker?"

His voice sounded strained, tired. She would have hardly noticed if it weren't so quiet.

Her head moved up and down rapidly. Silence stretched between them. He was waiting for something, for what she didn't know. Then it occured to her that he couldn't see her nodding, so she spoke in a hushed voice, anxiety dulling the voice of hers. "Yes."

Daryl released a breath he didn't even know he was holding.

"Gimme your hand."

It was weird for her, stretching out her arm when she couldn't see anything. But it was soon entangled in large, warm hands. They felt sticky, and suddenly she wondered about what caused the bone-thrilling crunch that hindered their attacker to stand up again.

Her cold, sweaty fingers were bend carefully, then wrapped around the belt-loops of his jeans.

"Hold tight."

They made their way along the floor, both of them were scanning for their flashlight.

It connected with Daryl's hand and with a triumphed "Got it." from his side, there were up and back inside the prison, their escape route forgotten. There was no way through as dark figures shuffled along, bringing the unmistakable smell of death with them.

Beth was not watching where they were going, she just stumbled along with him. She could see the beam of light bouncing in the darkness. She had long lost the sense of direction, turning corner after corner, backing up when they reached a dead-end, trusting Daryl to know where he wanted to lead them.

Her fingers were still hooked in one of his belt-loops, her fingernails already drawing blood, so tightly she held onto him.

He pressed them both to the wall as he registered the upcoming groans ahead, Beth's breath loud and clear in his ears. He shut off the light, his hand moving to the sheath where he kept his knife. Beth must have heard them too by now, as he felt her body stiffen beside him, stopping her breathing in the process.

Three figures were shuffling along. Stiffly, hungrily, but so far it seemed that they were complety unaware of them. He really hoped they could keep it that way. Daryl couldn't see them, but he could make out their number nevertheless.

They passed silently, stumbling over the stuff that was scattered across the floor. He followed her suit then, holding his breath, his heart beating loud in his chest, every nerve and fibre in his body on high-alert. Beth was frozen next to him, not daring to move a muscle. Just as the bodies trailed off, he could visibly feel Beth relax next to him, even if it was just slightly.

Out of the blue a sudden distressed sob tore through the darkness. Beth's hand jumped to Judith mouth, silencing her. But it was too late.

Without a warning Daryl bolted, slamming one hard against the wall as the first walkers started advancing the two of them.

He drove the knife deep in its throat, right up to the brain. He could feel it slicing through. There was a tug on his arm, some other walker's head right there, pressing its jaw into the leather of his jacket holding him in place with surprisingly strong hands, bone already crunching. He pulled his arm close then, ramming his knife in the eye with his left. With a wrench it stumbled back and dropped to the floor.

Daryl kicked it with a snarl, breathing hard.

Fuck. That was close.

There was a disgusted moan as the young woman behind him blindly rammed the tilt of her knife into the biter's head. Again and again. She let go eventually, the dead body folding under itself and crashing to the ground.

They were darting around a corner when - for the tiny friction of a second - he thought he went utterly and completely blind. His eyes burned, pain flared up, so rare it tore right to his brain as he stared into the bright beam of a flashlight that might have just as well been the sun.

There was a sharp inhale of utter surprise behind it, then strong hands grabbed him by the bicep, pulling him onward.

"C'mon. Go, go, go, go!"

Something must have happened with his ear drums as well because that was unmistakably Glenn's voice. And through his vision, that came in and out of focus; still thrown off balance from the intense brightness , he recognized the slim, tall silhouette in front of him. Rick. He was here, too. A figure - Hershel was pinned in the middle of these two.

The hell?

There was no time to think, though. They were running, being driven to get back deeper inside the prison. Various footsteps were echoing in these empty halls, closely followed by shuffling footsteps.

Beth was wheezing next to him, having a hard time driving in enough oxygen. But they couldn't stop, so he tugged her forward as her knees buckled and she almost faltered. Judith's cries were echoing loud and clear like a bell in this deathtrap.

It was him this time who nearly bumped into the person running in front of him who came abruptly to a halt.

"Oh, shit. Shit,shit, shit."

Glenn backed up, shuffles.

"Get back!"

They turned on their heels, moving into the other direction, only stopping when the smell of rotten flesh hit them. There were faint outlined silhouettes moving in the shadows, coming closer.

They were swarmed from both sides now.

Tugging the flashlight between his teeth, Daryl lifted his crossbow. The one closest to him dropped to the floor, followed by another as a bullet bored into its brain. Right away two stepped in. More and more were following suit.

His crossbow glided to the floor, ready to reload.

Muffled, alarmed shouts mixed with the groans.

"The door! Open the door!" There was a loud "Stand back." from Rick, followed by a shot. A chain rattled then dropped to the floor. They had no idea what was waiting for them on the other side, but it was either getting eaten or walking into the unknown.

Daryl was still fumbling with the string of his crossbow, never having done it one-handed before; his broken hand was frigging useless. There was not enough time, though, so the hunter just grabbed the arrow, pulled forward and stabbed it into the brow of the upcoming walker. With a sick crunch, he yanked it out again.

The figures behind him, alive and breathing, sprung into action. Glenn squeezed in first, followed by Beth and Judith. Then Hershel was helped through the gate.

It was only Rick and him now, back on back, standing on the other side of the door, trying to ward off the outstretched hands. The bodies were reaching forward, stumbling over the already fallen comrades.

"Daryl!"

"Rick!"

The needy hands were pressed flat against the door now, closing it again. Daryl nearly gagged as they pressed on, only his knee separating him from a walker, the smell of death so close it made him woozy. At the corner of his eye he saw a shadow lurching, stumbling into him, its teeth aiming for his throat.

Rick grabbed him by the vest then, showing him through the opening and following close behind. They stumbled, Rick nearly crashing on top of him as they made it through the door.

There was a hustle, shifting, then the door was locked with a chair.

All beams of flashlight were focused on the door, as it rattled, hands and bodies hammering against the valves from the now outside.

They all stared at the door, amazed, shocked. Everyone was breathing hard, their breath coming out as short puffs of air. It was the only sound for awhile. This, and Judith wailing.

He didn't know how long it lasted; it seemed like hours before they started moving again. Hershel was lowered to the ground, a gasp coming from him. Glenn's flashlight illuminated the grazing wound in his shoulder. Beth was crouching in front of her dad, hugging him tightly.

Daryl's chest was still rising and falling fast.

The air was stale, reeking of rotten bodies.

"Carl." Rick distressed voice rose. Only one word; but everyone knew what he was asking, even though Daryl wasn't sure if he wanted an answer to that. If Rick could handle another loss.

"Think I have seen him with Carol." Hershel said, his voice out of breath but still lingering his composing calmness. "Michonne is with him as well. I might be mistaken, but I saw them outside. He is in good hands, Rick.", he encouraged him.

"Maggie. Has anyone seen Maggie?"

Something in Daryl twisted. He kept quiet, though. He didn't know how to deliver the news that the kid's love of his live died in his arms. For fuck's sake, these two wanted to get married; he had seen the ring on her finger as he took her down. They wanted to have an happily ever after in this twisted, cruel world, believing that they could have it.

"I need to get to her." Glenn made a move towards the door, but before he could reach it, Rick was blocking the way.

"Let me pass." he snarled. "Rick, let me go, I mean it."

"Your are not thinking straight." Rick hands were up, his voice calm and soft, signaling him to keep it easy.

"I can't leave her outside, okay? I just can't!" Glenn recoiled then,pushing past Rick. Daryl twitched, ready to step forward, but Rick already had him by the shoulders, shoving him backwards with care.

"I know how you feel, I know. " he confessed, his voice bitter and full of pain. Rick ducked his head, so that he could look straight into the other man's eyes. "But we can't go out there. Not now." If they opened the door no one was worrying about anything anymore.

Glenn stared back, nostrils flaring, not quite statisfied with Rick's words.

"We'll find her, alright? We'll find everybody. "

Glenn let go then, trailing back, his palms digging deep into his eyes.

To hell with that, Daryl thought. Now might be the time as good as any.

He cleared his throat, formed over the sentences in his head how the hell he was going to say it. He came away empty. Pussyfooting around it wouldn't help any of them, though.

The flashlight landed on him, followed by all four sets of eyes. It was the first time they acknowledged his presence in this room since he remained silent during their emotional exchange.

He opened his mouth, closed it again.

Sorry, your soon-to-be-wife is dead? I fucked up big time.

"What is it?", Rick pressed, a hint of - was that worry?- in his voice.

He swayed to the side a bit, one of his feet stepping in front of the other.

He opened his mouth. Just as he was about to say something he was cut off, Glenn's flashlight landing on his right arm he held protectively in front of his body.

"Hey man, you are bleeding."

Daryl wanted to shrug it off "'S nothin'.", but the tiny man didn't take his word for granted. With the adrenaline ebbing a way, he suddenly felt light-headed. Well, maybe he did underestimate it a little bit.

There was a strange tingling sensation in his arm similar to the one when you cut off your blood flow, but different.

Glenn was on him a second later, peeling up the sleeves, not paying attention as he grabbed the hunters broken hand with too much force. Out of reflex, Daryl tried to flinch away, but his hand was trapped in that iron grip. He pushed the fabric up, revealing skin that was of an angry red, blood oozing sluggishly out of deep holes. The blood was not even red anymore.

His air left his lungs as if he had taken a blow to the stomach.

Well, he'll be damned.

Some motherfucking walker took a bite of him.

After that it was all a blur.

He barely remembered their shocked faces after his wound on the arm was exposed.

With grit and determination he tried to take a step backwards, away from the invading hand on his arm, away from everyone. But his knees gave out under him. There was a tight grip under his upper arm, another strong arm sneaking around his waist, keeping him from face-planting.

"Woah, easy now, Daryl." Rick. It was Rick's voice, close to his ear. "It's okay, you're okay", the ex-sheriff repeated like a mantra when, really, he was fucking not.

He wanted to snarl at him I can walk on my own, thank you very much. I'm not a fucking baby. Or maybe an insult, something, but his body was betraying him.

Faces were invading his line of vision. He felt trapped and boxed in. They were saying something, mouths moving, but he couldn't possibly make out what they are saying. His head felt like it was stuffed full of cotton candy. The world went black around the edges, they were fading in and out of vision. Then he lost consciousness.

Light shone through the tiny window frames, creating a path that was illuminated, bringing color in the cheerless amount of grey. Tiny dusk grains swirled around in the air, tumbling over one another, some away from each other, as if they were dancing.

The sun was so bright, so vivid, it hurt. Still, he wasn't able to tear his gaze away.

Another day broke. And miraculously, they made it. The willpower and sheer will to save and protect was far stronger than the drive to kill and destroy.

Though not all of them lived through the night.

He tried, tried to keep them save, he really did.

It wasn't enough though, it was never enough.

Glenn was slumped over the motionless form of his girlfriend. Her pale hand was trapped between the Korean's forehead, carefully betted between his hands. A bang of guilt made it through his stomach, leaving him with a cold feeling that had nothing to do with the fever.

It was not Merle lying there, but this hurt just as badly.

It wasn't supposed to happen. Not like this.

Now they were back to square one when they had first arrived to the prison. The yard belonged to the walkers, the group crammed in one place, the other blocks were all taken over by the undead. All the effort they had made in the last months, that had cost them so much, gone. Destroyed within a single night.

He could see Rick pacing around. His fingers pressed to his tight lipped mouth, thinking.

His head was spinning and his clothes were clinging to his skin like he grew a second layer of it. His body didn't feel like it was his own anymore, like he was sharing it with something else already.

Cowboy boots continued shuffling over the concrete.

Back and forth and back again.

Jesus, Rick was driving him nuts.

He drew his arm closer to him, imagining he had fresh earth and grass between his fingers instead of grime and blood.

They had talked about it already, it was out of the question what needed to be done. He would do it himself, but he couldn't even move anymore. He felt like a rag doll, only all strings were cut.

Somewhere in between sitting with his back to the wall Rick's boy dropped next to him. Just sat there for a while, saying nothing. Playing with the cords of his cowboy hat.

Shivers continued to run through Daryl's battered body. His bones arched. The throbbing in his head continued to grow. It wasn't going to be much longer now.

"Take care of little asskicker and yer dad, 'kay?" he rasped suddenly. "And the rest of 'em." he added, swallowing hard.

Carl looked up at him, stopping with the cords. His head lowered, then he nodded."I will."

Eventually, Rick stopped pacing - fucking finally-, coming to a halt a few meters away from him. His hand moved to the holster, jaw working silenty.

Daryl was not a man of good-byes. The others must have sensed it, his discomfort, so they stayed back in the shadows.

It was Beth, though, who walked towards him. He cursed her fucked-up sense of knowledge of human nature, because- really? Couldn't she see that he wanted everyone to back the hell off? However, it was forgotten as her long limps sneaked clumsily around his sweat soaked neck, her head buried inside the crock of his neck, letting her tears fall and soaking the hem of his shirt.

Overwhelmed by the situation, a total loss how to deal with it, he let her.

He felt her breath hitch, as closely as her thin frame was pressed against his torso. Ugly, muffled cries joined the tears.

It hurt. Every fiber of his body of was in agony. The constant dull pain, flared up, spread from his chest to his arms and even to his damn toes. It was hard to suppress the grunt that threatened to escape his lips.

Somewhat awkwardly, he sluggishly rested his head on top of hers. The tiny movement let his vision spin like a rollercoaster, so he slammed his eyes shut, took a deep breath.

The smell of earth, gunpowder and something very fresh, fruity, he couldn't put his finger on it, cherry maybe, filled his sense, letting him take him to a better world, if only for a brief moment.

"Beth, honey, just -".

It was Carol, who joined them then, resting a hand on the other woman's shoulder, ready to take her back to the others.

If it was even possible, the young woman's body melted even further against his, her arms winding around his neck, tighter this time.

After one long moment, she let go.

"It's not fair." she whispered, not even bothering to wipe away the tears that continued to fall.

Then she was up, moving to the others.

Carol took her place and damnit, could Rick end this already?

Her fingers ghosted over his face, afraid to touch.

"I just ..." she stopped, searching for the right words, her voice shaky. "Thank you. For looking for my little girl. For everything. ", she pressed her lips together as tears filled her eyes.

His eyes darted across her face, then back to the floor. It meant to be soothing, but it was just another reminder how much he had failed in his life.

After a moment of hesitation, she leaned in. His body tensed when her lips brushed against his cheek, soft and sweet.

She smiled at him with glassy eyes as she slowly drew away. The smile didn't reach her eyes, though.

Behind her, Rick shuffled.

No one said anything for a while.

"S funny, you know. " A low, deep chuckle escaped his lips,his voice sounding foreign even in his own ears. "Took ya four damn tries to finally pull that trigger. All good things come in threes my ass."

Rick eyed him, body stiffening.

Suddenly, he stepped towards him, closing the distance in two large strikes. Daryl tried to press down the panic, that was suddenly rising inside of him. Somehow, he was not prepared for it to happen so soon. So out of place. Good, he thought, it was better this way, anyway.

Quick. Fast. Unexpected.

As Rick arm rose, he couldn't resist the urge to press his eyes close.

Fucking coward ya are, he heard rough voice spitting, disgusted. Pussy.

He waited for the blissful, redeeming shot to the head. Instead a hand landed on his shoulder, warm and surprisingly welcomed. It lingered there, burning through his layers of clothing, to his fever-driven skin. He heard a shuffle, a snack of a knee bending. The other hand clasped the back of his sweat-soaked neck.

As he opened his eyes, the sun was blocked by the figure crouching in front of him. Warm, blue eyes were searching his, millions of different kind of motion displaying in them. Some of them he couldn't quite understand, didn't even know of their existence. Rick's jaw was clenched tight, so tight, he knew it must hurt him.

The hand on his shoulder squeezed gentle; once, twice, before standing and making his way to his previous spot.

Pain flared up where he squeezed his shoulder, making him nauseous.

No words were spoken, but yet so much was being said.

He could see Carol standing next to Michonne, her mouth moving. She was crying, he saw it in the way her chin moved, quivered. Held in her arms was Beth, her tear-streaked face buried in her father's shoulder.

Rick had his back turned on him, the rifle resting on his forehead, his eyes were pressed closed. With a long exhale, he turned. He raked his hand through his sweat-soaked hair, the weapon still clutched tightly between his fingers.

Facing him, Rick adjusted the Colt in the grip, shifting the weight of it in the right position. It was an illusion, but the gun felt heavy, heavier than ever before. Bringing his weight down a bit.

Their eyes looked, red-rimmed eyes staring back at him, two hard lines formed between the former sheriffs' eyebrow.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Rick raised the gun, still fiddling with his handle of the weapon.

Then, finally, the barrel pointed directly at his slumped, battered body, right at his head. The index finger looped around the trigger. With a tight nod, he adjusted his grip once more. Gritting his teeth, Daryl thought the jaw must snap any moment now.

Daryl stared back, ducked his head in a nod. Then closed his eyes.

The sun was warm against his skin. Moving lights were crossing behind his eyelids - some black, some orange. Red and yellow was in there, too. Tiny sparks were joining. If he were into art, he would call it very close to a masterpiece. Funny, how you never pay attention to the little things in life when there is still time for it.

It was beautiful, calming in a way. Peaceful even.

For a brief moment his thoughts drifted to Sophia, wondering whether he would see her again. Innocent and alive and kicking. Save. But he doubted the little girl would even remember him, let alone recognize him.

Maybe, maybe he would see Merle.

He breathed in the sun-soaked air, a dull pain arching through his body, leaving him light-headed.

Then a gunshot tore through the silence.

There was no desperation.

No pain. No fear.

Nothing.

end

Thank you for reading!