Disclaimer: I do not own the Walking Dead still. It belongs to the wonderful creators.

Chapter 2

Useless. He had never felt more useless in his entire life. Daryl Dixon is a tough son of a bitch, one who gets things done and keeps going even when it gets tough. But now, here he was on fucking bed rest. Two days ago, while out searching for a missing little girl, one of Hershel's horses threw him off a cliff and banged him up pretty bad. Actually, that was an understatement. He'd twisted an ankle, dislocated a shoulder, and stabbed himself with his own arrow. As soon as he was healed, he'd kill that damn horse.

He should be grateful to be alive, though. By some miracle or whatever, he'd managed to stumble back into camp before passing out. Although he wasn't happy about, Hershel had stitched him up. The old man was pissed that his horse was missing. No mention of the fact that it nearly killed him. However, that day hadn't been a complete bust. He managed to find Sophia's doll floating in the pond. That was the best evidence they'd had since she disappeared. She could be alive after all.

Nearly a week had passed since Carol's little girl went missing and they'd arrived on the farm. The circumstances of finding the place weren't so great, as Rick's son, Carl, was critically wounded by a hunter named Otis. Luckily, Hershel was able to save him. In the process, Otis had lost his life but that was no damage to him. He didn't know the guy. Carl would be fine and that meant one less person to worry about. Now, if they could just find Sophia.
He wasn't stupid, despite what everyone seems to think. They had stopped trying for the most part. Instead they were all plotting a way to convince the Greene's to let them remain on the farm and live happily ever after. It was the safest place they had found since the CDC incident.

The CDC had changed a lot within the group. They had lost a couple members who opted to stay behind and be incinerated by the explosion. Dr. Jenner presented a way out and he couldn't blame them for taking it. It wouldn't be his way to go though. He'd see this thing to the end. It also propelled Rick into the leadership presented, which he had done alright with so far. He could see it wearing the former sheriff down, though, especially considering he had to fight his former partner and best friend, Shane, on pretty much everything. Shane had been the leader before Rick came along, but in all honesty, the guy was a prick. Despite the fact that Rick had handcuffed his brother to a roof, Daryl found that they got along pretty well. Before all this, he would have never been friends with a cop. In fact, he'd felt himself much more 'bonded' to this group than he intended. A drunken night at the CDC led him to confessing things and even utter the word 'booyah'. He pretended not to remember, but Glenn has no problem reminding him every now and then. The Korean had been growing on him, too.

He couldn't lie to himself; he hated to feel close to these people. He had always been taught to care about only one person in the world and that was himself. No time for friends, love, and all that other bullshit. This was, not surprisingly, according to Merle. His brother had been the only person who had every looked out for him before this. Their dad was a deadbeat and their mom had taken off before Daryl could even walk. Now, Merle is gone (or hell, he could still be out there; he is a tough mother fucker) and he is surviving on his own. He'd always been able to. Some would say this world was meant for him to thrive in. It wasn't because he had some internal knowledge of killing walkers; he just knew how to survive without luxury items and depend on himself. He was raised this way. Hunting from the time he was able to hold a gun also turned out to be pretty useful. Now he was a provider. Damn him if the tables hadn't turned. What would his brother say? That's easy.

"Quit being a pussy."

He could practically see the smirk on Merle's face. He had always preached about how stupid 'feelings' and 'emotions' were and that it's better to just live life without attachment. He loved his brother, he did, but sometimes he was just a jackass.

"Daryl," Someone broke him from his thoughts. He rolled over on his cot to see

Dale peaking is head underneath the flap of his tent. Great, he thought, just who I wanted to see.

"What do you want, old man?" he snapped irritatedly. Dale, who had grown used to his attitude, was unfazed.

"Just checking to see how you're doing," the man said innocently before continuing, "I also managed to shoot a few squirrels and I thought I'd see if you were up to skinning them and what not."

Dale shot something? Hell just froze over a little bit. He hated to admit it, but he was grateful the man had found something for him to do. He'd been going stir crazy.

"Yeah," he finally grunted an answer. Dale gave him a smile before disappearing. He leaned up slowly, ignoring the pain in his side, and shuffled out.

Nothing had changed. Everyone seemed to be in the same place they had always been in; Lori and Carol gossiping over folding clothes, Shane cleaning his guns at the picnic table, and Dale pacing around the RV while Andrea sat with the rifle, seemingly tanning. He couldn't help but roll his eyes at that. Andrea had her moments when she was tough, but she was also, in no better words, a bitch. After she had almost gotten herself blown up at the CDC, she's been moody and stubborn. Now, she was on this protest for women's rights in the camp. She hated the fact that the women were always the ones to cook and do laundry instead of protecting the others, carrying weapons, and 'all the other things men do.' He didn't give a shit, either way. If Lori or Carol wanted to go hunt or carry weapons, they could go right ahead. Something told him, however, they were perfectly content to live in the world of laundry and cooking.

He went to the table that had been placed under the awning of the RV and sat down in front of the game Dale had brought back. It was only a few squirrels, but impressive considering he'd never seen Dale hurt a fly. It didn't take long for him to get into the groove of things. A slice here, a peel there and he had only one squirrel left to go. Dale had sat across from him, watching intently, although he could see the man look sick for a moment or two. It was a pretty gruesome job for the average person, but then again, there were things walking around with rotting flesh eating people. Skinned squirrels is pretty tame, in his opinion.

"Grab me bowl or somethin', would ya?" he asked once he had separated the meaty parts from the innards and fatty tissue.

Dale quickly returned with a container and he plopped the meat into it before shooing it away to the ones who would be cooking it. Now what? He had finished the job much quicker than he should have and now he had nothing to do. With a sigh, he stood up from the table and made his way to the well pump in order to wash the blood and skin residue from his hands. He decided, in that moment, instead of going and lying down for another fifteen hours, he'd find Rick and see how the search was going. He promised to keep looking while Daryl was out of commission and he hadn't heard anything from the sheriff so it was time to take matters into his own hands.

He scanned the camp and saw Rick standing near the rear of the RV talking in a low voice to Shane. Not caring to interrupt, he approached the two men.

"Hey," he greeted roughly."

"Feelin' better?" Rick asked, turning his attention onto the redneck. He looked tense, and he couldn't help but wonder if Shane had said something to make him that way. The two had been on the rocks for the last week and, at first, he thought it was because of their difference over Sophia, but now it felt like something else. You got better things to worry about, he told himself.

"I guess," he brushed off, "Anything new on Sophia?"

He ignored Shane, who made a distasteful noise. He didn't have time to deal with him right now. Well, he did, but he didn't want to kick his ass while injured.

"We checked the ridge where you found the doll," Rick said, "No sign."

Before Daryl could respond, Shane cut him off.

"Look," he said harshly, "I think it's time we accept the truth, here."

"And what's that," Daryl snapped.

"That she's dead, man," he said simply before looking at Rick, "In the force, if the person is missing after 36 hours you ain't looking for a person anymore, you're looking for a body."

"I know we're close," he countered, "I found her doll-"

"Yeah, that's it, you found a DOLL!"

"Alright, that's enough!" Rick interjected sensing the two were about to go at it, "We don't need this."

Daryl continued to look at his partner with loathing, but said no more. He knew he was wasting his breath. Shane was never optimistic about finding the girl and so his opinion shouldn't deter him. She could still be out there. She had to be.

Before Rick could say more on the topic, however, Andreas voice caught them all off guard.

"Walker!" she yelled from above them on the RV. The followed her line of sight into the open field and saw one lone walker bobbing through the clearing.

"I got it," she said before taking aim with the rifle from above.

"Don't waste the bullet," Rick said before jogging toward the field, "We got it."

He and the other two men made their way through the field. His side was killing him but where there was one walker, there was bound to be more. He'd check the area after they disposed of this one.

Rick reached it first, but paused once he had lifted his gun. Why wouldn't he shoot it? Daryl did his best to hurry and once he reached Rick, he paused as well. Is she...alive?

In front of them stood a woman covered head to toe in mud while dripping wet. Her hands seemed to have dried blood on them, the strange black color indicated that it was a walker, and her eyes looked very much alive. They widened when she saw all three of them holding weapons.

"Don't kill me," she whispered holding up her hands in surrender.

Rick lowered his gun , but a shot rang out before he could reassure the girl they wouldn't be hurting her. The girl fell to the ground in a heap of dirty limbs, unmoving.

"NO!" Rick screamed back to the RV where Andrea, no doubt, had fired the shot.

Oh shit.