By around four, Georgia had washed all of her and DJ's clothes as well as Daryl's, and everything she'd found dirty in Daryl's motorcycle bag. She'd gathered wood for their fire, helped get eggs from the chickens, given DJ a strong scrubbing, and washed herself. And Daryl still wasn't back. Georgia went out in the woods and caught a rabbit for the next day, and she still didn't see Daryl. She lay it next to the tent and made her way over to Rick slowly.

"Rick, have you seen Daryl?" she asked.

"He isn't back yet? He probably just got caught up in the search."

"He seems really attached to the little girl and Daryl's really determined, but this isn't like him. He knows better to stay out in the woods this late."

Rick turned away from the gun he was cleaning and questioned, "Don't take this offensively, but how well do you know Daryl? I mean, he came into camp two days ago, cussing under his breath and just demanded that you and your son stay. He didn't explain anything. He's not one to talk a lot."

"Trust me, I know all about that."

"How is that then? That you know Daryl Dixon so well?"

"We were together for three years before I left him."

"When did you leave him?"

"Almost nine years ago."

Rick couldn't stop his eyes from darting over to where DJ and Carl were on the front porch. She informed him, "Don't ask questions about that."

"I only have one."

She turned her eyes away from his and looked out at the tree line where she was still waiting for Daryl to appear from. Rick didn't think she was going to reply until she sighed, "I know what you're going to ask. And no, Daryl doesn't know who DJ's father is."

"Has he ever seen the boy before?"

"The first time was two days ago, when my boy held a gun to Daryl's back and told him to stop yelling before he brought walkers down on the both of them."

Rick stared at the solemn young woman and then looked back at the child with the striking blue eyes and the familiar scowl who sat on the front porch with his son. Rick promised, "If Daryl isn't back by morning, we'll send somebody to look for him."

"If you wait until morning, it will be too late."

"Daryl's a lot tougher than you're giving him credit for."

"Tough doesn't protect you from everything."

"We'll…"

"Walker! Walker!" Andrea's voice rang out in the air and it took Georgia a moment to remember which one she was. It didn't take her but a second to get over to the porch and grab DJ and Carl. She ordered, "Get inside and go upstairs. Go into the bedroom and lock the door. Do not come out until I come get you. Is that very clear?"

"Yes, Mom." "Yes, Georgia." The boys' voices spoke in unison.

"Good. Now go."

She pushed them towards the house and took off towards the camper where Andrea was stationed with her gun. Rick and the other cop were ordering her to stand down while T Dogg and Glenn were grabbing their weapons. She joined them in their race towards the stumbling creature making its way across the field. She was the first to recognize who it was. She shrieked, "It's Daryl! Stop!"

"Georgia, he's limping. He could be bit! He could be a walker!" Rick shouted at her.

"I know Daryl! He's not a fucking walker!"

That didn't stop Rick from drawing his gun and pointing it at the staggering redneck. Georgia rushed forward to grab the gun and froze when Daryl growled, "Ya keep pointin' that thing at me. Ya ever gonna pull the trigger?"

"Oh thank god," Georgia sighed. She moved forward to grab him, to check on him, to take care of him and the shot sounded across the field and she watched him fall backwards into the grass. The scream tore from her throat before she could stop it and they all rushed forward to check on him.

"I was jus kiddin'!" he exclaimed. He swatted at her hands as she grabbed his head to look at the spot where the bullet had grazed him. He snapped, "Fuckin' quit it, woman. Ya know better than to try that fawnin' all over me shit."

"Shut the fuck up, Daryl. You're head's bleeding and…." She looked down at his side and grimaced. He'd obviously tried to create some kind of tourniquet out of his old shirt but it hadn't worked. Blood had poured down his side, soaking his jeans and boots.

"Ya've seen worse on me, Georgia Rayne, so shut the fuck up an get to stitchin'."

"He's wearing ears," Glenn hissed to Shane. "What the hell happened out there?"

"Are you bit?" Shane demanded.

"If he was bit do you think he would have come back to camp?" Georgia growled at him. She didn't like the darker skinned cop. She didn't know why. There was just a gleam in his eye that only cruel men or crazy men had, and she didn't want either one near her or her son.

"Ain' bit. Found Sophia's doll an got myself injured. Arrow to the side. Clean through. Pulled it out though."

"You're an idiot." Georgia stood and grabbed his hand to pull him up. The men grabbed him to take over. She sighed and ordered, "Hide the fucking ears."

She tucked them into his shirt as Andrea came running over, apologizing and out of breath. Georgia glared at her and followed the men to the house while they dragged Daryl in between them. She made it to the front door when Carol came running up. The woman panted, "Did he find her? Did he find my Sophia?"

"I'm sorry, but no. He's closer though," Georgia hated giving the woman a promise she didn't know about. "He found this."

She handed Carol the doll and rushed upstairs to where Daryl was lying in a bed with Hershel at his side. Hershel warned, "Ma'am, you might want to head on downstairs. This isn't going to be pretty."

"It never is with Daryl," Georgia replied. "The first time I ever gave him stitches, I was thirteen."

She reached over and slid her fingers up the back of his jeans and over a rough scar on his calf. Hershel watched her interestedly. She stated, "I was a nurse for three years, but I was Daryl's nurse a long time before that. A man can't change that much in nine years."

"Can change more than you think," Hershel said solemnly.

"I'll help you get his shirt off."

Georgia moved to help Hershel cut the rest of Daryl's shirt off and get a good look at the wound. Hershel asked, "Do you know what happened?"

"The specifics of it, no. I know he took an arrow through the side. He yanked it out. Probably so he could protect himself."

"There's blood on his face," Hershel pointed out as he washed his hands.

Georgia grabbed Daryl's face and studied it for a long second. She swiped her finger across the man's cheek and rubbed it between her fingers before informing Hershel, "Some kind of small animal. He ate something so he could get his strength up and get back here to Carol."

"That his woman?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Stop fuckin' yankin' on my face, Georgia Rayne, an quit talkin' shit ya don' know 'bout," Daryl grumbled without opening his eyes. She flicked him on the forehead.

Georgia helped Hershel cut Daryl's blood stained clothes off of him so they could get to the carnage underneath. His ankle was swollen and bruised and his side was still leaking blood slowly. Daryl murmured, "Ya wanted to see me naked, all ya had to do was ask."

"Shut up, Daryl."

"Missed ya, Georgia Rayne. Didn' yer daddy used to say that nothin' was prettier than the Georgia rain?"

"Daryl, you've lost a lot of blood and you're delirious. You'll regret it when you wake up."

"Glad yer back, Georgia."

"Hush up, Daryl," she ordered.

"Bossy, bitch."

"Always."

"Be here when I wake up, 'kay?"

"I'll be here. I'll make sure your woman is here too," she promised. She brushed a cool hand over Daryl's sweat soaked forehead and guided his eyes closed. She turned to Hershel to help him.