AN: Thank you so much for the response to this, and to all those who have read and reviewed. I'd also like to give a special thanks to the reviewers without logins since I'm not able to personally respond to you. Each review brings a smile to my face. :)

The truck sped down the road making good time, but Maggie couldn't help but think it wasn't good enough. She stared down at Daryl noting the lines of pain etched in his features, even in unconsciousness. A thin film of sweat had cocooned his body, yet he was cold to the touch and sometimes he'd shiver in his sleep. His pulse was weak, yet racing. His breathing compromised, becoming harder and harder to detect. His skin far too white. The only color to him the blue tinge his lips had taken on and deep, dark bruises marring the skin under his eyes. And the red of blood. So much blood.

She could smell it.

Blood, sweat, fear.

Death.

No! It couldn't come to that. She rejected the idea. The door fragment that'd pierced him wasn't even that big, maybe only a few inches in diameter and about foot long, she couldn't begin to guess how deeply it'd buried itself in his chest though. He couldn't die. The shard wasn't even that big. But in her heart she knew.

It was plenty big enough. More than.

Glancing out the window she barely saw the wasted world whizzing by, her main points of focus the fingers on one hand keeping track of Daryl's pulse and the palm of the other splayed on his chest feeling for the shallow breaths that seemed to be spacing themselves further and further apart.

Although, she did note that she recognized the area. Not much further now. Only a couple miles further, maybe a little more. Daryl's moan brought her gaze back down to him. He blinked, slowly opening his eyes halfway, their gaze clouded with pain, the left pupil still blown wide. She offered him a strained smile.

"Hey there." She said softly, brushing damp hair off his face. It was getting so long.

He didn't answer, just watched her.

"We're almost back to the prison." She told him. "Daddy's gonna fix you right up when we get there."

"Sure." He whispered calmly, but his eyes said something else. They spoke of such a mournful resignation that it was all she could do to keep from bursting into sobs. Her throat constricted and she couldn't keep the tears back, they flowed freely down her cheeks, but she did not sob out loud. Only in her heart.

She reached for the hand lying limply on his stomach and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Don't you give up, Daryl Dixon." She demanded, her voice thick from tears, yet her eyes burned with determination. "We haven't given up on you. You don't get to give up on yourself."

Their eyes locked in a silent challenge. Green on blue. Each warring for their cause- one pair insisting 'fight!' the other imploring 'let go'.

When his eyes tiredly slipped closed and his hand weakly squeezed back she knew she'd won. He'd fight. He wouldn't give up. She looked up to see Glenn peering back anxiously and gave him a nod. Glenn let out a relieved sigh. And just as Maggie was feeling that spark of hope reigniting, that this frantic flight home wasn't an exercise in futility, it extinguished.

Daryl's hand went lax in hers.

His breathing stuttered then stopped.

Panic clawed at her. She felt a wail of despair bubbling up inside her, but wouldn't allow it to escape. She couldn't break down now. Not when action was the only course.

"Rick!" She screamed as she carefully slid out from under Daryl's head into the floorboard. "Drive faster! He's not breathing!" Tilting Daryl's head back, she pinched his nose shut and blew a breath into his mouth.

She could taste his blood on her lips.


When Maggie started shrieking that Daryl wasn't breathing, Rick thought his heart may have stopped. He turned in his seat to the sight of Maggie kneeling in the floor of the vehicle manually breathing for his best friend. He couldn't see Daryl's face with Maggie leaning over him like that, but Daryl's body was alarmingly still. He was still before, when they'd laid him in the truck, but now there was just something different about the way he laid there… some quality Rick couldn't put words to.

Lifeless.

Utterly lifeless.

Hell. Maybe he could put words to it.

He wished he couldn't.

He turned back to the road, grinding his teeth in frustration. They were so close, they couldn't lose him now! Rick could see the prison looming in the distance, and it was quickly growing to fill the view of the windshield as they hurtled toward it. Even when they crossed the point where scavenging parties customarily slowed, he never let up on the gas. They were nearly on the gates when they finally opened to allow them entry.

Rick didn't see who was on sentry duty or patrolling the gates, but whoever it was must have gathered something was up because the inner gates where already open and ready for them. Thank god for that. He got the truck as close to the prison as he could before skidding to a halt.

A few people were gathering, wondering what had happened and the fear was clear on their faces. As he jumped out of the truck he saw Carol handing Judith off to Carl. It was to her that he directed his orders, giving no one the chance to begin questioning him on what'd gone wrong.

"We need Hershel! And a gurney!" He knew he sounded desperate, but couldn't find it in himself to care at the moment. Carol shot him a despairing look even as she began rushing inside, clearly agonizing over not knowing, and the answers to come for that matter, but understanding that explanations would have to wait.

"And an Ambu Bag!" Maggie shouted out to him as she checked Daryl's pulse making sure his heart hadn't given out too.

"Right. And an Ambu bag!" He called out to Carol's retreating back.

"Got it!" She called back as she disappeared from view.

He threw open the back door, Glenn joining him, ready to move Daryl to the gurney when it showed up. People were closing in, asking what'd happened. He heard Glenn give an abbreviated explanation of the catastrophic run. But Rick couldn't focus on them. All he could focus on was Maggie performing rescue breathing on his brother. And how pale and still Daryl looked. And how long it was taking for Hershel and that gurney to show up. And how it'd already been nearly seven minutes since Daryl had stopped breathing on his own.

Finally the gurney arrived, Beth and Carol rushing it out. Hershel wasn't far behind and was next to them as soon as they had Daryl settled on the gurney. Hershel looked alarmed then grim, but for his part, didn't ask any questions. Not yet. He just sent Carol inside to get things ready for a surgery and immediately went to work; checking Daryl's vitals and inserting an endotracheal tube into his throat, attaching the Ambu bag to it. Hershel handed the bag to Beth.

"Bethie, you remember how to operate this, right? Squeeze it every five to six seconds." The girl tore her horrified gaze off of Daryl's broken body. She looked up at her father and the terror melted away, replaced by a steely resolve that shone from her eyes as she began rhythmically squeezing the Ambu bag. Rick realized with a start that Beth was no longer a child, somewhere along the way she'd grown into a fine young woman. He wondered if he'd notice the change with Carl. Maybe it'd happened already, or maybe he was a child with too much power. It wasn't so long ago that he'd gunned down that boy in cold blood…

Hershel was directing Glenn and Maggie to take Daryl inside, effectively shaking Rick from his troubling musings. He followed them in, ready to help in any way he could.