Author's Note: Thanks again for the amazing support for this story. So know we see Daryl taking care of Sophia and guiding her through the forest. Of course, there's a few complications. The song is called 'Through the Trees' and it comes from the movie 'Jennifer's Body'. The song was the best thing about that incredibly weird movie.

***Italics indicate a flashback for Daryl

****Bold italics indicate a dream for Daryl

A Better Man

Summary: After Carol's death, Daryl makes a desperate wish to save her. Suddenly, he finds himself back in the quarry, staring as she and her daughter cower in the shadow of her husband. With all of his memories of the future intact, can Daryl change life as he knows it?

Disclaimer: From here on out, I do not own The Walking Dead or any of its characters. I also do not own any song lyrics that you may find in this story. Their owners are listed next to them.

Chapter 8: Cherokee Roses

I remember how we used to talk
about the places we would go when we were off
and all that we were gonna find.
And I remember watching our seeds grow
and how you cried when you saw
the first leaves show.
The love was pouring from your eyes.

So can you see the branches hanging over me?
Can you see the love you left inside of me?
in my face, can you see?

Through the trees
I will find you;
I will heal the ruins left inside you.
Cuz I'm still here breathing now
I'm still here breathing now...
I'm still here breathing now...
until I'm set free.
Go quiet through the trees.

Take my breath as your own
Take my eyes to guide you home

…Low Shoulder – Through the Trees


"Is it safe?" Sophia asked, clutching Daryl's arm as he led them to the dilapidated old farm house. It was starting to get dark and the last thing he wanted to do was wander around the forest at night with a terrified little girl.

"I'm hopin' so," he said back, "Might be food inside too."

She seemed to perk up at the idea of food and willing followed him inside. He shut the door and looked around. It was rundown with broken boards and loose nails. They were in the kitchen area and he glanced over some broken chairs and then directed her towards the pantry cupboard.

"Alright, ya hide in here and I'm gonna go check the rest of the house," he said. She panicked.

"You can't leave me!" she whimpered, clinging to him. He knelt down to her level.

"I ain't goin' anywhere, Soph. I just wanna make sure this place is safe. Now all I need ya to do is to get down in that cupboard and count to one hundred. Betcha I'll be here before you finish," he grinned at her. It took her a second to nod her head. He waited until she was shut into the cupboard and then he did a quick sweep of the lower level and then the upper one. There were no unpleasant surprises and he returned to her just as she was coming up to eighty-four. He opened the cupboard and smiled.

"Told ya so," he said to her. She smiled back.

"There is food in here, Daryl. Look," she showed him a can of sardines, "I know you can eat 'em without cookin' them. Here."

He took the can she offered to him and peeled off the lid, "You know, you're pretty smart, Kid."

"I read a lot. Momma says you learn a lot by reading," Sophia told him. Daryl smirked. If he was ever looking for Carol at the prison, all he would need to do was take the short walk to the prison library. He would find her curled up with a book on one of the armchairs next to an oil lamp.

"Your Momma is a smart woman," Daryl grunted, shoving a sardine into his mouth. He noticed that she pulled a face when she ate a sardine. It wasn't a kid-friendly food, but she ate another one like a champ. He smiled, "Ya know, ya can also run like a fu-freakin' bunny rabbit," he told her. Sophia blushed.

"I used to be on the track team before," she explained, "I wanted to play soccer, but Momma said Daddy said 'no'."

Daryl chose to ignore the remark about Ed, saying, "We'll spend the night here. You'll be safest in that pantry. I can run and grab ya a blanket from upstairs. That okay?"

"But what about you?" she asked. That wary look had returned to her eyes.

"I'll be right outside your door," he assured her.

"But what if a walker gets you?" she asked, frowning. He chuckled.

"Don't you know who I am, Sweetheart?" he teased, "I'm Daryl Dixon. Walkers run in fear of me. If one bites me, I won't be turnin' into a geek. Nope. He'll be shivellin' up and dyin'. True story."

She laughed, "Daryl, that's not true."

"Sure it is, Girl. Ain't nothin' can kill a Dixon 'cept a Dixon," he told her, "Stay put. I'll run and getcha that blanket."

When he came back, she was safely tucked away in her pantry, waiting for him. She had thrown the empty sardine cans into the trash bucket. He chuckled.

"Ya a neat freak to?" he teased, passing her the blanket.

"Momma always kept the house nice and clean," Sophia said reverently as she cuddled up in the blanket, "Will we find my mom tomorrow, Daryl?"

"I'm sure of it, Kid," he assured her, sitting down with his back against the wall. She was silent for several moments.

"Are you sure walkers can't get in?" she asked.

"Nothin's gettin' in here, Kid. It'd have to go through me and I'm pretty good at killin' shit…uh, I mean crap," he amended. Sophia giggled and clutched her doll to her chest.

"But if the walkers-"

"Shoot girl, ya want me to tell ya a true story 'bout walker killin'? Ya see awhile back, I was lookin' for someone in a forest like this one. I ended up fallin' down a ravine and into a creek. One of my arrows went through my side…"

He told her the story, how he tried climbing the ravine again and ended up falling again. He told her how he woke up to find a walker nibbling on his boot and how he killed it. He told her how he then pulled the arrow out of his side and shot the second walker. He even told her about his hallucination and how Merle had guided him up the ravine. She had fallen asleep by the end of it, but for what she heard, she had listened in rapt attention. It was no bedtime story, but it sure did the trick.

He stayed up the whole night. He wasn't about to fall asleep and let anything happen to Sophia. He wasn't losing her again. Not now, not ever. He would take her back to Carol, alive and whole. One of the things that Daryl had always admired about Carol was her capacity to love and care for others. It was one of the things that he had first noticed about her back in the original timeline. She was always sheltering Sophia from danger and protecting her. That alone had earned her Daryl's respect at the beginning. Any woman who was that set on protecting her kid was alright in his book. His own mother was a lot different. When she was sober, she was a fine, loving woman. When she was drinking, she could be as mean as his daddy if she wasn't crying. Daryl would never forget a night about a month before she died. His old man had been laying it on him and she had stood by, drinking out of the whiskey bottle, watching as his dad lashed him with the belt. Merle, fifteen at the time, had been the one to help him afterwards. Though Merle would never tell him, he was certain that his older brother had given his mother hell the next morning.

Daryl shook his head as if he could shake the memories out of his mind. The last thing he needed to consider was the past. He was here to change the future. His priority was to return Sophia safely to her mother and then he would work on protecting both of them from this shitty world. He'd be the protector Carol had come to rely on, then, maybe once he proved himself to her, there would be time to work on them.

Daryl let the arrow fly. It hit its mark and Daryl collected the squirrel from the tree. Dinner would be lean. An owl, four squirrels, and a can of mystery food for ten people. It was a far cry from the suppers they had feasted on at Hershel's farm. He sighed and returned to camp, already coming to terms with missing a meal. He took watch, sitting on the hood of Rick's truck. He figured that the group would forget about him and he wouldn't have to go about the awkward business of refusing the food. He hadn't counted on Carol.

"Here," she had come up to the truck and was holding out a small cup of "stew", which was little more than warm water and some kind of meat.

"Ain't hungry," he dismissed her. She frowned.

"You need your strength," she tried again. He huffed and a cloud of his breath wafted in front of him.

"Give it to someone who needs it," he grumbled, "You eat it."

"Daryl, you're more important than I am," Carol replied firmly, "Take it."

He scowled and looked at her, "This more shit 'bout ya bein' a burden?" he demanded, "Don't tell me I taught ya to defend yourself for nothin'."

"You protect and provide for this group. I heat up water and add meat to it. Take it," she said again. He narrowed his eyes at her before they focused on movement behind her. He hefted his bow and shot, killing a stumbling walker. She looked behind her with mild interest.

"Eat the damn food and quit distractin' me from watch," he ordered.

"That right there is why you need this more than I do," she said stubbornly, "You're our protector. You need it."

Then she walked away, leaving the cup on the hood for him, knowing that he wouldn't refuse and waste precious food. He was cursing her name as he let the hot liquid flow down his throat.

Carol was always like that and in truth, she looked out for the group as much as, if not more than, he did. He protected them from walkers and hunted up food, but she made sure they all ate, slept, had warm and clean clothes, offered up medical support, and was the first to lend a sympathetic ear to anyone. She had a place in the group just as he did. Still, she would never earn that place without him there. He was her protector, her champion, and he would not fail her if he could help it.

At first light, he gently tapped on the pantry door. Sophia opened it and grinned at him. He noticed then that she had her mother's smile and Daryl felt his affection for the child grow simply by the association.

"Mornin' Daryl," she greeted.

"Mornin' sleepyhead. Ready to get goin'? he asked, opening another can of sardines for them to share before they headed out.

"Yes, Sir. I wanna find my mom," she said.

"Good. And none of that 'yes, Sir' crap," he scolded her with a smirk. She nodded happily and ate the meagre breakfast. Then they got to their feet. Sophia opened the door and then let out a gasp. Then a walker woman was lunging into the house at her.

Daryl reacted, roughly pushing Sophia aside and he jabbed his right arm under the walker's neck and pushed it back to the outside, falling with it down the front steps. He was on top of it as it struggled and he reached for his knife, bringing it down over and over into the walker's skull. He sank back, panting and looked wildly around for others, but there were none. He stumbled back into the house. The thing had been inches away from tearing into Sophia's shoulder. If she got bit, if she failed, how could he ever face the others? How could he even face Carol? It had been bad enough mustering the will to look at her the last time he had failed her daughter and he didn't know if he had it in him to do that again.

"Sophia?" he called. She was lying unconscious on the floor next to a broken table and Daryl felt his stomach drop as he fell to his knees beside her, "Soph! C'mon, Kid, don't do this! Not again!" he panicked as he gently tapped her face. She was starting to come to, her brown eyes dazed as she looked at him.

"Daryl?" she asked.

"You're alright, Kid. I'm here," he whispered, his eyes scanning her for injuries, but thankfully, she was whole. The walker hadn't bit her. He let out a breath that he hadn't realized he had been holding. She sat up, wincing as she reached back and rubbing her head. She frowned and pulled her hand away, showing Daryl the blood there. He paled.

"Shit!" he exclaimed, moving to examine the injury. She yelped in pain as he touched the gash that had formed there when her head met the edge of the table.

"It hurts," Sophia whimpered.

"Dammit, I know, Kid. Shit, I'm so sorry!" he apologized, reaching for his bandana in his back pocket and pressing it to her wound. When he had shoved her aside, he had shoved her into the table. He had saved her life only to bloody her head up.

"Daryl, I want my mom," she sniffled, tears beginning to leak from her eyes. Daryl bit his lip and nodded. He thought about their general location. He debated leading her back to the highway. It was a long trek and he wanted to get her to safety as fast as possible. He knew that Hershel's farm was only a mile, maybe two away. He could go back to the highway later.

"I know, Sweetheart. Can ya stand?" he asked, getting to his feet and offering her his hand. She took it and stumbled like a fawn trying out its legs for the first time. She took a couple shaky steps, grasping his hand tightly as he led her to the doorway. She stopped cold when she saw the dead walker and yelped, pressing back into him.

"It's okay, Girl. It's dead. It won't hurt ya," Daryl whispered soothingly.

"It tried to bite me," Sophia whimpered. A chill swept through him as he realized what would have happened had he not been there. He now knew how Sophia had come to be a walker in the other timeline. She would have opened the door and would have been bitten by that walker woman. He ran his hands through his hair. He had just saved her life.

"I know, Kid. It's gone now. Won't ever let that happen. C'mere," he called to her. She clung to him, falling into his open arms and crying into his shirt, "Shit, Kid, I got ya. I got ya."

She was still shaky when they finally made their way outside. She was upset with a hell of a head injury. He had to take her to Hershel. He knew the old man would help her. She clung tightly to his arm and her eyes darted nervously around as they made their way through the overgrown yard. She was scared out of her mind. Daryl wished that he had a way to make her feel better.

Then his eyes spied something white across the yard. A slow smile spread over his face as he led Sophia to it.

"See this, Soph?" he pointed the flower out to her, "This here is a Cherokee Rose. See, when the European settlers came here, they forced the Indians off their lands. The Cherokee mothers were cryin' a lot 'cause they were losin' their lil' ones to diseases or the cold or starvation. Some of them kids just disappeared. So then the Indian elders prayed for somethin' to uplift the mothers' spirits and give 'em hope and strength. The next day, wherever the mothers' tears fell, these white Cherokee Roses started to bloom. It gave them hope. Now it's gonna give us hope."

Sophia wiped her eyes, "I like that story better than the one last night," she said. Daryl chuckled.

"Me too," he agreed, "I didn't fall down a cliff in this story."

She smiled and gently reached to touch the white petals, "These give hope?"

"Yep," Daryl nodded. Again, he was reminded of Carol and how she had delicately fingered the snow white petals of the Cherokee Rose before she looked at him, with hope and tears in her eyes, and proclaimed that they would find Sophia. Daryl reached out and snapped the rose off, "And this one is for you," he said, holding it out for her. She smiled slightly as she took it and tucked it inside the strap of her doll's dress.

"It's pretty. Do you think my mom would like one too?" she asked.

"I know it," he assured her, snapping another rose off of the bush, "C'mon Kid, let's go."

They had their way through the forest with Daryl stopping every now and then to check her head. It had stopped bleeding and the blood had matted her blond hair to her head. He felt horrible just looking at it, knowing that he had caused her that injury. They arrived at the creek, another familiar landmark. He glanced up the side of the ravine and his resolve wavered. Climbing that fucker had been hard enough the first time without an injured kid. Of course this time, he was in peak physical health, so that had to count for something.

"Alright, we'll try to make it up there. You go first. That way, if you fall, I'll catch you," he instructed. She raised an eyebrow.

"But who will catch you?" she asked, "You said last night you weren't no good at climbing hills."

"Don't be a smart-ass, Bunny Rabbit, and hop to it," he growled. She smiled at the nickname and began to climb. She did quite well with using all of the tiny crevices that were too small for Daryl's boots. Plus her weight was supported by some of the smaller trees, while his wasn't. He found this out the hard way when he grabbed for a small tree. It snapped and he went tumbling down the hillside. He heard her call his name as he fell down into the water. He hissed as an arrow pieced his side.

"Argh!" he groaned, lifting his head up to see the water around him turn red, "You've got to be fucking kidding me!"

"Daryl!" she called to him, sliding back down the hill quickly and with far more ease than Daryl ever would have achieved, "Daryl, are you alright?" she asked, sloshing through the water to his side. He sat up.

"Fucking fantastic," he growled. She gasped when she saw his wound.

"An arrow?" she gasped, "Again?

"Yeah, fuckin' again," he grumbled. It seemed that no matter what timeline, he was destined to have a goddamn arrow sticking out of his side. Hopefully that didn't mean that he was destined to be shot in the goddamn head again. That fucker had hurt too.

"What do I do?" Sophia whimpered. He looked up at her and saw that she was starting to panic.

"Soph, I need ya to find my crossbow. It fell in the deeper water. It's heavy so when ya find it, tell me and I'll come get it," he instructed her. He didn't want her bandaging his side. It was harder this time as he didn't have sleeves on this shirt. He ended up cutting strips out of his pants to tie around his body. Then he gritted his teeth, ready to pull the arrow out when Sophia called him.

"Daryl, I found it!"

He staggered to his feet and waded out to her. The arrow could wait until he had his bow. Then he could protect them. He fished his bow out of the water just as Sophia gasped. He snapped his head up and raised the empty bow only to come face to face with a heavy-set man pointing a rifle at him.

"The hell are you?" Daryl demanded, lowering his weapon.

"You bit?" the man asked, gesturing to the blood staining the water.

"Shot myself," Daryl grumbled, standing to his full height to show off the arrow, "Who are you?"

The man lowered his weapon and extended him a hand to help him out of the water, "Name's Otis. Come on outta there. I can getcha patched up."

Otis. Hershel's man that would shoot Carl and then be shot by Shane. He was the man responsible for Sophia being in that barn. He now realized how it happened. She had been bit at the house. Maybe turned there and stumbled to the creek or maybe she stumbled there as a human and then turned. Either way, that was where she dropped her doll and that was where Otis had found her. She would have been tucked into the barn long before Carl was shot.

"Daryl Dixon," Daryl introduced as he took the man's hand, "This is Sophia. We were separated from our group. She hit her head earlier and needs help."

"You do too, pal. If you folks follow me, I can get you to Hershel. I don't want to risk taking out that arrow out here," Otis said, "What happened?"

"We was in a farmhouse back there and a walker tried to get at us. I shoved her out of the way and she hit her head," Daryl explained Sophia's wound.

"I was askin' 'bout the arrow in your side," Otis clarified, "but Hershel will definitely take a look at her."

"Was climbin' that ridge and fell," Daryl growled, "The crossbow went off."

"Well, Hershel will get ya sorted," Otis replied confidently, "It's only a mile and a half. Are you alright walking?"

"Wouldn't be the first time," Daryl muttered, staggering after Otis, "C'mon, Soph."

He looked back at the little girl. She looked very unsure of the new man, shrinking to make herself seem small and invisible. Daryl sighed and held out a hand.

"It's alright. He's gonna help. We'll be alright, Bunny Rabbit. Hop to it," he called her. He figured it might work. She had liked the nickname before and it seemed to do the trick. She cautiously crept forward and grabbed his arm. It was a slow walk and a couple times they needed to stop and rest. Otis was a talker, much to Daryl's annoyance. Sophia still hadn't said anything to the man, clutching Daryl's arm. At one point, she reached up and tugged on his shirt. She was wincing horribly.

"Daryl, I don't feel good," she whispered.

"I know. Hershel's gonna sort ya out, Kiddo. Promise," Daryl whispered back, now more anxious than ever to see the old man who had treated him like a son. Finally, they managed to reach the treeline. Daryl could see the house, the sheds, stables, and the barn. It all looked so serene and peaceful.

Daryl smiled and tried to dismiss the thought that he had returned to a long-lost home.

"What happened? Who is this?" a familiar voice boomed as Daryl, Otis, and Sophia drew closer. Hershel Greene stood on the porch without the use of a cane or crudely made prosthetic. He was clean-shaven and, despite his age, he put up an imposing figure. He was definitely a sight for sore eyes

"I found this man and his daughter in the woods. He fell down into the creek-bed and his crossbow went off. The girl has a head injury," Otis said, "He said that they were separated from their group. They need some help."

"Be mighty grateful," Daryl panted, clutching his side. A thin sheen of sweat now covered his face and his shirt was soaked through with his own blood. Hershel walked down the steps and observed the wound.

"It looks safe enough to pull out. I don't believe you hit anything major. You will need stitches. Up you get now, Son," the old man drawled, "Maggie, get my kit and have Patricia meet me in the lower bedroom."

Otis and Hershel helped him to the bedroom and he bent over the bed. Maggie Greene emerged carrying a black bag. It was like seeing a little sister again after being away for so long. He hadn't counted on how much he had missed the Greenes until they were standing before him. She placed the bag by her father, who fished out some pain killers and fed them to Daryl.

"Those are quite strong," Hershel cautioned.

"What about Sophia?" Daryl panted, "She hit her head."

Hershel frowned and called to Patricia, "Would you mind taking a look at her?" he asked, "She's looking a little green 'round the gills."

"Of course. Come on, Honey," Patricia said gently, holding out her hand. Sophia cast a look at Daryl.

"Go on, Lil' Rabbit," Daryl managed through clenched teeth, "She'll help ya out. Take care of ya."

"But you," Sophia whispered, glancing at the bloody arrow.

"Ya don't need to see this, Kid. When we're done in here, ya can come back," Daryl promised, "It's okay, Soph."

Finally the girl nodded and let Patrica take her into the next room.

"Alright, let's get this out of you," Hershel sighed.

Daryl took a breath and readied himself, determined not to make a sound when Hershel forced the arrow out. He didn't want to scare Sophia in the kitchen. He didn't cry out, but as the arrow began to move, he emitted a low, guttural sound from the back of his throat and he couldn't help the gasp of relief as the arrow left his body. Hershel told him to lay on the bed so he could close the wound.

"So Otis said that you and your daughter were wandering out in the forest," Hershel made conversation as he stitched.

"Soph isn't my daughter," Daryl grunted, "Her mother is up at the interstate with the rest of our group. We got separated when two walkers-"

"Walkers?" Maggie asked from the doorway, raising an eyebrow.

"The dead," Daryl clarified, "It's what we call 'em. Anyway we got stopped on the highway when a herd of them things came on us. Two stragglers went after Sophia and chased her into the trees. I went after her…Jesus, man, I ain't a pin chushion," Daryl winced as the stitching needle pierced a sensitive area, "Shit, sorry. Anyways we spent the night in an abandoned farmhouse. This morning, we went to go and one of them went after her. I pushed her out of the way, but she fell and hit her head. We tried to go up that ridge to get to high ground. Fell and got an arrow in my side."

"Well, you're very fortunate that you survived such a thing," Hershel said. Patricia came back into the room.

"She won't need stitches, but she has a slight concussion," she reported, "I just need to clean up the wound, but she's been asking for you and her mother."

"'Course," Daryl nodded, "Do what ya have to do."

"You'll need to take it easy for a few days," Hershel said, finishing his suturing, "Definitely no more climbing steep ridges."

"Trust me, I won't be trying that again," Daryl muttered, "How soon can I get outta here? I promised the kid I'd get her back to her momma."

"Definitely not in the next few hours," Hershel replied, "You've lost a lot of blood and those pain killers were strong."

Daryl frowned, "When?" he asked. He tried to sit up, but was hit by a wave of dizziness. He fell back into the pillow and winced.

"Daryl?" Hershel asked.

"I'm okay," Daryl admitted, even though Hershel swam in and out of focus, "I'm fi..."

His eyes rolled back into his head and he fell into unconsciousness.

TBC

So Daryl managed to make it to the farm house with a living Sophia, but what's going to greet him when he wakes up? Let me know your thoughts on this chapter!