Author's Note:

Aleda shows a different side of her personality.

Daryl has a pensive moment, along with a tiny Dixon pity party, much to his chagrin.

Semi-erotic content in the form of thoughts, so those who don't want that sort of thing be forewarned.

OOOOOO

She held her several minutes longer, fingers threading through her hair, flat palms running over her back, rubbing up and down her arms, shushing and whispering into her ear quietly. The racking sobs died slowly, retreating into little but sniffles, and finally silence.

Her face was streaked in tears, eyes red and puffy, upper lip shiny with mucus.

"Now look at that mess," Aleda clucked quietly, pulling the dangling shirt from beneath her, and wiping carefully, holding it against her face. "Blow," she ordered softly, and Sophia sniffled again, gave an embarrassed little giggle as she obeyed.

"Got your shirt all dirty," she whispered meekly, wiping at her eyes with her hands.

"Ain't the worst thing been in my shirt, I tell you that."

She ruffled the little girl's mop of hair, before smoothing it out again.

Daryl would never admit it to himself, but the envy ate at him, curled like a poisonous thing somewhere deep in his guts: how easily she touched the girl, how quickly she comforted her, how different now she seemed than even two hours ago. How could she change so quickly, while he himself could barely find the breath to speak a kind word, even as it strangled itself in his throat.

She was a hard woman, Daryl did not need days of observation to come to this conclusion, but there was more to her, caring and gentle. She was complex, and what was he? Some sad caricature, trailer trash, an asshole, little more than tolerated by a world that would have been perfectly happy to have been without him: worth nothing, anyway.

His teeth gritted together, shoving the thoughts down like rotting garbage in an overflowing dumpster.

"Now clear your eyes. Straighten your shoulders. Lift that head up, girly. Everything's gonna be alright now." Sophia sniffled again, obeying and straightening her tiny form.

Aleda smiled (beautiful, some maddening part of him whispered again, unlike anything he had known before) and gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead, smoothing her hair back from her face again.

He wondered what that felt like, comfort given with nothing asked in return. Suddenly, he wondered what her lips would feel like on his skin, her hands cupped around his face, whether they would be coarse and battle worn, if her lips would be soft, what those scars on her back would feel like beneath the rough of his tongue as his fingers dug bruises into those slender hips, if she could ever bring herself to touch him so easily, with such care and attention.

He squeezed his eyes shut, grinding the heels of his hands into the sockets.

This was it, he thought, this was the end. It had all finally gotten to him.

He was losing his mind.

As hard as he scrubbed, he could not remove the images from behind his eyes. God, it had been so long since anyone had touched him in anything but anger, longer than that since anyone had touched him out of choice. His body ached at the thought of it, a chance to forget it all for a moment, to find some relief, some comfort, to lose himself in a woman, mouth full with the tang of her sweat, drowning himself in the smell of her, to think of nothing but her and know she thought of nothing but him. Just to steal those few moments of peace, of ecstasy, to feel something more than second best, more than pain and rage, fear and misery.

The little girl's voice startled him out of his spiraling thoughts. (Here, take her, his brother's voice whispered in his mind, I'm done with her. She's fucked up enough she ain't gonna mind if your ugly ass fucks her next. Done got what she really wanted anyway.) He shifted uncomfortably, the throbbing, desperate flesh in his groin painful and tight against the fabric of his jeans.

"Is.. is my Mama okay? And… and Carl?"

Rick nodded beside Daryl, oblivious to his distress, tears filling his eyes despite the smile on his lips.

"Everyone's okay. We've all been so worried about you, Sophia."

"I'm sorry," she whispered, tears glittering in her eyes again, as well, "I'm sorry. You told me to stay, but more of them came. I was so scared. I ran and… and I couldn't remember what you said, I didn't listen, I just kept running, I—"

"It's alright, honey, it's all over now. You're safe, and that's all that matters. We'll get you back to your Mama soon. She's gonna be so happy to see you."

"Sophia," a small voice. Daryl swiveled his gaze to see a small child, five or six, he thought, standing a few feet from them. "I thought you were gonna play with my Barbies."

The girl looked torn, glancing desperately between Rick, and the little girl.

"Why don't you go on, sweetcakes. Go play. The grownups gonna figure this out, alright? Go have some fun." She made an easy gesture, shooing her away.

Looking to Rick again, he nodded to her, and Sophia smiled, the soft, sad smile that had been the only one Daryl had ever seen grace her tiny lips since he had met her.

"Okay," she said quietly. The little girl grabbed her hand, dragged her away, despite how much shorter her legs were compared to the other girl.

She waited until Sophia had disappeared behind a bank of tents before she turned back to them, glancing first at Rick and then to him. He swallowed, ridiculously certain that his thoughts were emblazoned clearly on his face.

"You have children of your own?" Rick asked, smiling softly to her, wiping at his eyes unashamedly.

"Me? God no, why?"

"You're so good with her." He shrugged, and she shrugged in return, picking up the half-smoked cigar from the ground and lighting it again.

"I like kids… Pretty sure there's some law on the books against me ever reproducing, though. Last thing the world needs is another one of me." She gave a self-deprecating grin. "The whole family thing isn't for me. I've always been married to my work."

"How long have you been in?" Daryl asked quietly, surprised the words even made it past his now parched throat.

"Fourteen years, now. Guess I can stop counting at this point." She wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand, taking another drag off the cigar, speaking through the smoke as she exhaled. "So, what's your plan?"

"We've got another seven hours of good light," Daryl said, and Rick nodded.

"We should be able to make it back to the highway before dark."

She shook her head, hard enough that a strand of hair fell from the bun on top of her head, catching in the sweat on her cheek. He had the absurd thought of reaching out to brush it away.

She'd probably succeed in shooting him, this time.

"That ain't gonna work."

"What do you mean?" Rick asked, forehead wrinkling.

"I ain't sending her out in those woods again. She almost died last time."

"What?" Rick's voice was barely above a whisper.

"She had a Walker on her, we found her. Already had his teeth through her shirt, ripped it open. I didn't think there was any chance. No way she could have gotten so close to one and not gotten infected somehow… but I had to take the chance. We brought her back to camp, washed her up and looked her over, but there was no wounds."

"Jesus Christ," Rick covered his mouth with his hands. Daryl knew well what he was thinking, that if the Walker had succeeded, if the little girl had died, it would have been his fault.

"It'd been after her for hours. She was tired… and about to give up. She wasn't even fighting anymore. We got her back to camp, got her in some clean clothes, got her a full belly, put her up in MaryAnn's and Dasha's rack. Little thing slept fifteen hours straight, cried three hours after that. Said she knew she'd never see her Mama again, that she was gonna lose her just like she lost her Daddy… You got no idea how grateful I am to have found you two. Too many orphans in this camp already."

"No, no. I cannot thank you enough for what you've done. I was the one who put her in danger… you saved her life. We never would have found her. She would've died alone and…" he trailed off, throat tightening and choking off the words.

"And it's all over with. Anyone of us can sit here and place the blame on any number of things, but the fact is the time has passed. It's done, and over with, and there's no changing it." Her eyes were slate, he noticed, hard and flat again, a muscle ticcing in her jaw. "We all got our own regrets. We dwell on them and every one of us is gonna end up with a barrel in our mouths, you understand?"

Rick swallowed, nodded, took a deep breath and composed himself.

"Not far from the highway from here."

"It's half a day's walk from here," Daryl protested.

She shook her head, and pointed over his shoulder.

"Not as the crow flies, it's not."

Rick and he both turned, looking to where she had pointed. At the farthest edge of the camp, on a large empty patch of ground, perched a Blackhawk.

Rick laughed, sounding almost delirious.

"A helicopter… I knew it, I knew it."

Aleda looked at him quizzically, as though unsure of his sanity.

"When I was in Atlanta… I saw it, I saw it go over."

She nodded slowly.

"We were doing runs over Atlanta early on, trying to find survivors. Not enough payout, for as much fuel as we wasted. We got enough left in the barrels for a few more trips. You think you can find on a map where you come from?"

Rick nodded quickly.

"How many in your group? We can fit eleven in the bird."

"There's eight back on the highway. Dale's not gonna wanna leave his 'Bago behind, though." Daryl said.

Aleda nodded in response.

"More'n enough room. I'm gonna send Murphy and Mikey with you. Mikey can direct your vehicles back here, and we can get your women and children flown right in. You gather up here, get a good night's sleep, good bath, good food. You decide what you want to do from there. Sound like a plan?"

Looking between each other, they finally nodded.

OOOOOO

He'd never been in one of these before. There had always been helicopter flights at the county fair, but Daryl always made sure he was more interested in barbecue and as much beer as he could swill down. He'd shoot himself right in the face before he ever admitted to anyone he was terrified of heights.

He swallowed, advancing on the metallic beast slowly.

"HOT DAMN!" Somebody hooted, a man of medium height rushing for the 'copter, swinging up and into it, diving straight for the pilot's seat. The Mexican, Mikey, trailed in from the left, wearing a visible expression of discomfort that made Daryl feel slightly better about his own.

"You get anymore excited, Murph, you're gonna piss yourself."

"I live for this shit," the man barked from the front of the cabin, flipping several switches. There was a low hum before the rotors started slowly. The breeze felt great, brisk enough to force its way through his sweat-soaked hair, cooling his scalp.

"I live to live, man. Being that high up in the air ain't the way to do it."

"Oh come on, ya fucking wet blanket. 879 successful combat flights, and you think I can't make it twenty miles over empty forest and farm land?"

"Yeah, well, just do your fucking job, man," Mikey grumbled, ducking as he approached the helicopter and climbed inside.

He ground his teeth together, not to be the last in, and climbed in quickly behind the man, Rick climbing up behind him.

"Strap in, boys. This shouldn't take more than thirty minutes."

OOOOOO

Carol paced the asphalt, unable to stay still, afraid that inactivity would bring back the thoughts, the knowledge that her little girl was alone and scared and abandoned out there somewhere. How could Rick have left her? How could he have lost her?

Lori and Andrea sat closely together, watching her path, up the road, and down again. They both shared the same desperate hope, that any minute Daryl and Rick would return from the woods, Sophia with them, that the little girl had survived the night. More than a hope, a need, a need for all of them. Lori held onto Carl tightly.

Dale perched himself atop his RV, binoculars and rifle ever present. Glenn and T-Dogg sat miserably in the 90 degree shade on the pavement beside it. Shane kept to himself, still elbow deep in the engine of his new toy.

"They've been gone for hours," Carol began, stopping before Lori and Andrea.

"I'm sure everything is fine, Carol." Lori said, knowing the words were a lie even as they escaped her lips, knowing the woman before her knew it.

She stopped finally, sinking against the hood of her Cherokee, trying unsuccessfully to stifle her tears. She was surprised that she had any left to cry.

Lori glanced to Andrea, sharing the same hopeless glance with the blonde woman. What would they do if they did not return with Sophia? What would they do if they never returned at all? What if Daryl and Rick were lost to the forest just as the child had been? How many Walkers were out there, how many threats?

She pushed the thoughts resolutely from her mind, wiping the sweat from her forehead, pushing her hair back from her face. Her hands stopped as she tucked the strands of her hair behind her ear.

She didn't… surely not.

She paused, finally cupped a hand around her ear, raising a finger from her other hand to quiet Andrea, the woman looking at her questioningly.

It wasn't long before she heard it, too.

"Do you hear that?" she whispered, and Lori sprang to her feet, dragging Carl with her. "Dale! Do you hear that?"

The man had, she could tell, already standing at attention, straining his ears, binoculars scanning the area around them quickly.

"I hear it! I can't tell where it's coming from, though."

Andrea rushed to her feet so quickly, she nearly fell again, pointing desperately, southbound down the highway.

"There it is! He was telling the truth!" She screamed. "Rick saw it, he saw it!"

Shane had made his way back to the group, shading his eyes with his hands as he looked in the direction of everyone's attention.

"That's a helicopter," T-Dogg yelled, scrambling clumsily to his feet, "It's a fucking helicopter! You see it, too?"

"I see it, I see it." Dale said quickly, kneeling quickly at the edge of the roof. "Quick, I've got a flare gun in the glove compartment, get it, QUICK."

Glenn was on his feet and into the RV before T-Dogg could even make it to a full standing position. By the time he was fully on his feet, Glenn had already tore out of the door again. Dale reached for the gun desperately, as Glenn tossed it up, unsuccessfully.

"Quick, boy, quick!"

The second throw met its mark, Dale pointing it straight into the air, firing even while he prayed aloud that it would work.

It went up with a whoosh, streaking through the air, leaving a trail of smoke, exploding in the air. T-Dogg waved his arms desperately; Lori, Andrea, and Carol all grabbed for dirty laundry, swinging it through the air, all screaming at the top of their lungs.

The helicopter tilted lazily from side to side, dipping in the air.

"It's a signal!" Glenn screamed. "They've seen us! Oh Jesus Christ!"

"Benning," Shane said, quickly. "Gotta be from Benning."

The Blackhawk slowed, lowering carefully into the first clear place on the highway it could find. A figure strapped in the seat nearest the door tore off his belts, clambering out of the cabin quickly.

"Is that…. Is that Daryl?" Glenn asked, incredulously.

The entire group took off running, ducking down as the rotors began to slow to a stop.

Rick exited next, Lori nearly tackling him as his feet hit the ground.

Carol could barely bring herself to move. Where was her little girl?

"Sophia! Sophia!" She screamed. Daryl rushed to her, slinging his crossbow across his chest. She grabbed desperately at his arms. "Where's my little girl?"

"She's fine. She's alive. We found her, Miss Carol."

Rick kissed Lori hard, hugging Carl to his hip. He grinned from ear to ear at the others, tilting his head back toward the helicopter.

"We found a lot of things out there."