A/N: Again, contains description of injuries and blood, innuendo and swearing. Tread lightly.

The truck sped forward on a road that continued to wind from left to right as the night crawled upon them. The headlights of the truck lit up the empty, eerie strip of road.

Everyone, even the dogs in the backseat, had been quiet on the inside of the truck. Nobody dared to make a sound, as if a mere notion of a sound would make the tender situation explode.

Joe Barlow wasn't Daryl Dixon's favorite person, not by a long shot, and yet, he had been forced to bring him along with this wild goose chase.

The dogs had complained about the crowded quarters at first but settled down after a while. Their mistress seemed to be their one priority, and as she'd began relaxing once more the dogs had calmed down as well.

As Daryl kept increasing the speed little by little, she had fallen asleep on the backseat.

Her head was tilted against the shoulder blade of still alert Atka. Daryl continued to keep an eye on her through the rear view mirror every five minutes, despite he knew well enough that she was relatively safe. For now. He was almost certain that the dog, Atka, would keep a watchful eye until Beth was safe, and there he could relate with the animal.

"She's fine, Dixon."

Joe had kept quiet just like everyone else in the car, but now, he was the first to break it by speaking out loud.

Daryl glanced at him from the corners of his eyes. The grey-haired man continued to look out of the window, making a point not to look at Daryl while he had spoken, but Daryl could still see the smug expression on his face. Being slightly paranoid when it came to Joe Barlow, Daryl was certain he was probably eyeing at him via the reflection in the window, watching his reactions and spying on Beth through the side mirrors.

"Shut up," Daryl grumbled, making the older man chuckle.

Daryl ignored Barlow by giving another glance at the rear-view mirror.

Nanuk, the youngest of her dogs, snuggled at her feet, his face resting against her leg. He opened his eyes lazily, his ears perking up, as he turned to look at Daryl as if he had sensed him looking at Beth. Sixth sense of the dogs was eerier than the empty road they were travelling now, but Daryl was thankful that the dogs were there. At least, they would bite Joe's head off if he tried to harm her in any way.

Daryl had not felt comfortable to put Joe in the backseat with Beth's dogs, but he was even more uncomfortable now as he was sitting next to him.

He wasn't over, even after five years, the way Joe had acted around him in the prison, while they had still shared the same halls of the large correctional facility.

"So, they let you out just like that, huh?" Daryl asked, not quick enough to bite his tongue and stop himself from asking the one thing he probably shouldn't have been asking. Not that he cared about what and how Joe had done it, but it gave away the fact that he had thought about it, and he had thought about him.

His curiosity beat him by a breath, and he glanced at Joe for a second before returning his gaze to stare at the road defiantly.

"Yeah, that might have happened," Joe nodded, grinning a little, "Or not."

Daryl scoffed, well knowing that it had not been a coincidence that Joe had been released from ADX just a moment after he had contacted Daryl on the inside.

"I made a deal," Joe said, shrugging nonchalantly. He didn't have to explain a thing to Daryl, and he knew it. It got quiet in the car again for a moment, until Joe continued.

"Actually, I think there might have been two deals. Got a pretty sum over those," it wasn't any more explanatory than Joe had been thus far. Daryl raised an eyebrow at him, frowning a bit.

He had forgotten how slippery smooth Joe Barlow could be if he wanted, and how inexplicably slimy he could make people around him feel. Gritting his teeth together he clutched the steering wheel, keeping his eyes on the empty and darkened road ahead.

The strange, almost sixth sense kind of feeling kept nagging at him in the back of his mind. Something about the whole situation was wrong, and he couldn't help but think that it was that Joe was about to double cross them. It was just a thought after all and it wouldn't explain the fact that Joe had shot and killed his entire crew just hours ago in order to get both Beth and Daryl out of Bethel alive.

But human lives hardly meant a thing to Joe. As far as Daryl knew he had killed several innocent bystanders over the course of his career. Truthfully, Daryl couldn't say he hadn't done the same thing over the years. Maybe Joe had just offed any competition and not wanting to share the reward money.

Glaring at the grey-haired man from the corner of his eyes, Daryl shifted in his seat awkwardly. It made him quickly wince in pain, realizing immediately that his unnerving feeling wasn't just about Joe. The cuts on his stomach were now getting more painful by the second.

He touched nonchalantly his abdomen, feeling the heat rising through the bandages. Infection and fever, both he could deal with, he had dealt with them before, but if this had escalated into sepsis, it was only a matter of moments he'd lose his consciousness and slip into a coma.

He had been moving along on pure adrenaline rush for the past hours, and now, as his body was slowly but surely getting relaxed in the vehicle and getting rid of all the excessive adrenaline, despite them still being on the lam, the pain was returning.

He almost felt like the pain was coming back with double the ferocity it had been after the attack. It wasn't good at all. Stubbornly he gritted his teeth together, and clutched the steering wheel keeping his eyes on the empty and dark road.

"Who the fuck hired you?" Daryl hissed out a question, mostly trying to distract himself from the sharp ache.

"What, and spoil the fun?" Joe chuckled, turning to look at him for the first time, shifting the shotgun he was holding between his legs.

And there it was again, a twinkle that made Daryl uncomfortable.

"Boy, you're getting skittish over nothing," Joe chortled, and waved his hand vaguely, "I have a boyfriend."

He then paused for a second, although it felt longer, and then Daryl saw him swivel himself around as much as his seat belt allowed, looking back at the direction they had come and muttered, "Oh, right… I had a boyfriend."

"What?" Daryl choked out and turned to look at Joe for a moment too long, before he felt the car drifting into the opposite lane. He straightened the car back onto the correct lane, while glaring at Joe from the corners of his eyes.

"Jesus Christ, Dixon, relax," Joe scoffed, "Lighten up. You're way too tense. Ain't got no boyfriend. Or a girlfriend, for that matter."

"Ain't got no reason to trust you," Daryl hissed, snapping his mouth shut, stifling a groan that nearly escaped from his mouth. The twinge in his abdomen felt almost as if someone was turning a knife in his gut.

Daryl scoffed, and shook his head. He knew he wasn't going to get Joe admit who had hired him, but he needed enough distraction from the pain. Arguing with Joe seemed to be doing the trick, making his blood pressure rise and his adrenaline pumping. Better that way than chasing wisps in the woods.

"Spit it out," Daryl growled.

"Said no one ever," Joe snickered, and grinned. But then, coughed a little, as he saw how Daryl was slowly losing his patience.

"Fine, lighten up," he replied, and then continued, "Just drive where ever you were gonna go. I'm just gonna hang with ya there and then, we'll see. I might just have to keep you company until you're safely back with whomever hired me."

"Who hired ya?!" Daryl shouted suddenly, losing his temper. He made a move to his right, grabbing Joe by his collar.

His foot pressed on the gas, and they both felt the truck lurch forward.

The otherwise empty road had been quiet but now the roar of the amped up truck bounced from the trees and disturbed the silence. Daryl could see leaves and other debris being swooped up in the air by the draft of the truck, and small pebbles cracking onto the windshield, but he didn't ease off from the pedal. His foot pressed down as he still clutched the collar of Joe's.

Up until that moment, he'd kept the speed relatively secure, just on the verge of the speed limits, not interested in attracting any unwanted attention, or take any risks.

The pedal beneath the sole of his shoe was the perfect leverage, when the twinge of pain in his gut and Joe's irritating smug attitude grew too much to bear.

The pain and anger blinded him for a second.

His inner ear couldn't keep up with the suddenness of losing eyesight even for a second, and he wasn't sure if the car was still going forward on the right lane.

Judging by the way Joe reacted a second later the car was all but out of the road by then.

"DIXON!" he heard Joe shout. The old bounty hunter made a move to grab the wheel of the truck, but Daryl, still wanting to bite his head off, made it difficult. His shout, though, startled awake Beth.

She woke up amidst a group of confused and quickly anxious dogs.

"Daryl?" she called from the back seat, voice still drowsy from sleep.

As the vehicle tilted, spun around slowly, the dogs began to howl.

"Fuck," Daryl managed to groan out loud, his extremities feeling numb, just as everything around him turned blurry.

He couldn't reach the brake, no matter what. He swore out loud and glanced over his shoulder watching the blonde woman looking surprised, panicked and slightly confused. His instincts fought with one another, as he reached for the handbrake and yanked it. With the speed, and the weight of the car, it was totally useless. Physics dictated that the car continued after he yanked the brake. He heard something screech against the chassis of the vehicle, and hoped it was the guard railing of the road. It might be enough to stop the truck.

"Hold on!" he shouted out loud, turning the wheel and bracing himself for the impact. He didn't have enough time to see if she was strapped in with her seat belt, or she actually was holding on, because he was too busy hoping that the dogs wouldn't take off like furry cannonballs, and splatter all over the windshield. The centrifugal force of the inside of the car forced Joe against the car door. Despite the truck turning around slowly for the speed it had travelled at first, the force of it was still immense. The truck could have been spinning around uncontrollably and Joe didn't want to think what might have happened if it had hit something that might have launched the truck in the air.

"Daryl!" she shrieked once as the car skidded on the asphalt, along the road, the rear end turning around steadily, and scraping against the metal of the guard rail. She whimpered out loud, the dogs falling on the back seat as they continued to lose their balance.

In the end it was a large tree that stopped the car.

The tree shook as the left front side of the car slammed against the trunk, needles and twigs falling onto the windshield that had cracked from the force of the impact like hales during a storm. The insides of the car fell silent, and only thing Joe could hear was the ragged breathing of his own and Beth. The next sound that invaded into the silent car was the whining of the dogs, and the engine groaning and creaking.

The car swayed and tilted once, and both Joe and Beth clutched onto anything they could. When the vehicle came to a permanent halt, Joe took a deep breath before he opened his eyes. Clearing his throat, he glanced around, noticing the truck had slammed against the tree sideways.

Relieved, he didn't feel any serious pain, he patted down his chest and to his arms and legs. A crick on his neck and some bruises were imminent but other than the he wasn't hurt. Looking over his shoulder the dogs were in a pile of fur on the floor of the back, making their ways up on the back seat. Beth seemed to be in order as well, but he wasn't sure if he should demand an answer from the woman or not. She was probably just as suspicious of him as Daryl was.

Daryl.

He turned to look at the boy behind the wheel and cursed out loud. He groaned, reached to open his seatbelt that squeezed him into his seat, like a vice, and then grunted as he tried to crawl upright, to reach Daryl.

Yanking open the seatbelt, Joe propped Daryl against the steering wheel, before he touched his neck, face and arms. Nothing seemed to be broken. Until he saw the blood.

There it was. The blood, trickling down the dashboard, onto the center console and floor.

"Fuck," Joe cursed out loud, which drew Beth's attention from her dogs. She had been inspecting them meticulously, trying to find if they had been injured in any way. Luckily, the dogs had just slid on the floor and if they had been bumbled about, they would be sore, bruised even, but nothing was broken. She would have to find a clinic to have them checked as soon as possible.

When she heard Joe swear out loud, she turned her head to look at his direction.

"Oh my God," her voice came out from behind, feeble from shock, "Daryl!"

She fought a moment to get her seatbelt open, before it gave in, and she crawled her way between the two front seats.

"His neck," she said, as she began searching something, she could use to stop the bleeding.

"Not broken," Joe grumbled, "He was clutching his gut before."

"He was injured before," she answered in a hurry, extending her arm and sliding her palm under the shirt she had given to him earlier. His bandages were hot and wet. Wet from blood that continued to trickle down his stomach and hot from the excessive heat his skin was radiating, due to an inflammation.

"Injured how?" Joe asked and cursed internally. He was supposed to keep the boy alive and not get him killed in a car accident by agitating him to the brink of self-destruction.

"I don't know, he didn't really tell me. He looked like he was beaten and left for dead," Rose said, shaking her head, "I think he was stabbed too."

She remained silent for a moment, bringing her hand onto his forehead, and then touching Daryl's cheek. Then, she pried open one of his eyes, her lips pressing into a tight line, "The wound is inflamed, he needs to go to a doctor. Now."

Her voice didn't come out as a suggestion, it came out as an order.

Joe glanced at the petite blonde once and nodded. He grumbled internally, though, thinking it was best if he didn't scare the girl. He wasn't sure if they could find a doctor, or if they could get Daryl to a doctor for that matter.

"There ain't no way he wants to go to a doctor, girl," Joe replied, with a smug grin, voicing his thoughts out loud.

"I wasn't asking him, or you!" she hissed at him, pressing the bleeding wound and eliciting a hiss from Daryl.

"Look, girly," Joe started, "Don't know if ya know this, but Daryl here is a wanted criminal. He ain't gonna wanna see no doctors in any emergency rooms, because they are legally bound to call in any gun-shot wounds!"

She stilled her movements, her lips pressing into a tight line as she tried to process the new information. Joe watched intently at her expression change from shock to decisive.

Rose frowned and jutted her chin forward defiantly. Somehow, she had already known something wasn't all peaches and cream about Daryl, but she also knew he wasn't a bad man. Looking up at Joe with anger in her eyes she realized he had expected her to bolt or turn on Daryl. She gave him a glare, a rude one, before she squinted her eyes.

"Vets," she hissed then, "Vet clinics use the same medication for animals! We could find one."

"Pfft."

"Gimme your phone!" she said and grabbed Joe's cell phone from his mitts without waiting for him to hand it over.

She began searching for a suitable and close enough clinic, while Joe began grumbling about the ludicrousness of the plan. Nevertheless, he opened the door, and made his way out with a great deal of difficulty as the terrain underneath them was askew and full of shrubs and branches.

"Found one," she informed.

"Fantastic," Joe muttered under his breath.

He wasn't hired to babysit a woman with an amnesia, and he certainly wasn't hired to pretend to be a paramedic for a guy he was hired to get out of town alive, although it seemed to be harder than he had expected. He was paid half up front to do that, and as greedy as he was, he wanted to get the other half on delivery, bringing Daryl and possibly the girl back alive. The money was too good to back out of the deal he'd made.

He groaned, and rolled his eyes at himself, before he began to figure out the best way to get the dogs, Daryl and the girl out of the truck without much hassle.

Daryl come to abruptly just as Rose began cleaning and bandaging his wounds once more. She had been very gentle while cleaning Daryl's battered face, but now, even as she tried to be gentle with the abdomen, barely touching him, his skin was burning hot and the knife wound on his abdomen was painful and tender.

"FUCK!" he shouted out loud and grabbing roughly Rose by her wrist with his bloody, sticky hand and squeezed tightly. She got startled immediately, but it lasted only for a second, and again she stared back at him with almost no fear in her eyes. It confused Daryl the hell out of his mind and he slumped back in his seat and glared at the blonde woman under his shaggy hair.

"Daryl," she said softly, almost scolding him for grabbing her. And or a second, on that moment he heard his name being spoken out loud by her voice, he was almost certain she recognized him.

"Sorry," he growled, letting go of her wrist.

The blood that had smeared his fingers earlier were sticky making it feel as if he was pulling his hand from her wrist like an orange peel and they left a crude print of his palm on her pale skin.

"Geez, get a room you two," Joe said, rolling his eyes. Both, Daryl and Rose, snapped their heads at his direction, one looking at him with disdain, the other with surprise.

He sat on a rock nearby surrounded by four dogs. He was absentmindedly scratching one's ears, but Daryl couldn't remember which one it was. It would have been comical to Daryl, if he wasn't in pain. Though, he had expected Joe to snicker something about him fainting in the car, but instead he scoffed.

"Can ya get up, Dixon? We got a long way a way to walk," Joe continued, ignoring the rude glare of Daryl's.

"He shouldn't be moving," Rose began, and looked up at Joe, from where she was kneeled on the ground next to Daryl. He wanted to rebuff that statement.

Joe's mouth pressed into a tight line, and Daryl could see he agreed with Beth, but in the end the reputation he had gained as a hardcore hitman didn't allow him to play it soft.

"How the fuck you gonna get his ass at the vet clinic if he ain't walking there? The goddamn truck is wrapped around this tree!" Joe snapped, and rolled his eyes at the blonde woman.

"Don't yell at her," Daryl hissed, clutching his abdomen. He sat there, looking up at Joe, trying to concentrate on breathing without the screaming pain in every single nerve ending he had, but soon realizing it was impossible.

Joe rolled his eyes at that, and snorted, "Like I said, how the fuck you gonna get your ass at the vet clinic then?"

Daryl glowered at Joe but said nothing. Instead, he clambered up rather wobbly, and took some support from the destructed vehicle. He didn't want to say it out loud, but the world seemed to have been trapped onto a carousel and it was spinning out of control.

He'd been severely injured many times during his active service, and he'd even been tortured when he'd been taken a POW with his - -

He bit the inside of his cheek. The answer hit him in the face right then and there.

"I can walk," he grumbled defiantly as if to challenge Joe to argue back. The grey-haired man said nothing in response, but as he turned around, he rolled his eyes and grumbled something about how he had never realized how ridiculous male bullshit sounded like. It seemed to startle him next and he kept his mouth shut for a quite a while.

It took them longer than they had thought to walk from the crash site to the vet clinic Rose had found online using Joe's phone. All four of Rose's dogs had bounced and trotted around them, and explored the surroundings, quite excited about the new scents and new areas.

The clinic was empty and dark on the inside, which wasn't a huge surprise considering it was well after midnight. Although Rose had expected to find at least some poor trainee inside on call all night, she was minimally relieved that there wasn't anyone to ask silly questions. The only sign that the place wasn't abandoned was the small porch light lit next to the front door.

Having the place all to themselves was cold comfort. Thinking about the injuries Daryl had they could have used professional help. Veterinarian, or even a trainee, would have been a better choice rather than Rose and Joe.

Animals have feelings, just like humans. Sometimes it's harder to tend the animals.

The words echoed in Rose's mind like the flutter of a butterfly's wings. The sound of the man speaking was once again her father's and she couldn't help but think how she had adapted so quickly to the fact that her father had been a veterinarian, instead of some small-town hunter with alcohol issues.

Frowning she shrugged her shoulders to brush off the thought that she had been lied to so many times over the course of few years that she wasn't sure if anything she had been told by Daryl was real.

"Check the door," Joe said, startling Rose out of her thoughts.

She let her arm go free from underneath Daryl's arm and made sure he was still standing properly before she hurried at the door. The archer was still dazed after the crash and bleeding from his abdomen, but he had managed to hobble the ten-mile walk, occasionally supported by Rose and Joe.

"Why… are you… helping?" Daryl growled for the hundredth time over the past hours. He stumbled forward, but Joe grabbed his arm, offering support quickly.

"Bring him here!" Rose called out, preventing Joe to reply to Daryl immediately. She stood at the front steps of the small country clinic and pointed at the door, which was quite possibly and undoubtedly locked. Dogs barking somewhere behind the facility startled her for a second and frantically searched around her to see where her dogs had trotted off to.

She was slightly phased when she saw all four of her dogs sitting next to her waiting for her to open the door as if they were going home. There were some farm animals moving around in the barn near the small building and the paddock surrounding it. Otherwise the area around the clinic and the yard was dark and quiet.

She looked once more at her dogs, seeing their ears perking up, heads tilted, as they listened to the sounds they had not heard before. Once or twice she could hear one of them gruff out loud as if to reply to the barking sounds but then they fell silent again.

"Daryl," Joe growled back, sweat beading on his forehead, as he struggled to support Daryl and stumble forward in the dim yard, "This is goin' to be one borin' ride if ya keep askin' that same damn question over and over."

Daryl huffed a reply, but Joe couldn't hear if he said anything meaningful.

"The door is locked," Rose announced looking disappointed, panic crawling into her eyes slowly.

"Here," Joe breathed, and guided Daryl on the steps of the vet clinic, "Sit here for a second, will ya."

Barlow reached into his back pocket and pulled out a slender case. Opening the zipper around the edges of it he handed the case over to Rose and kneeled with a groan and crack of his joints and began picking the lock.

"Are you picking the lock?" Rose whispered, glaring at Joe over his shoulders.

"How the fuck are we gonna get in if I don't do this, then?" Joe snapped, beginning to feel frustrated, "The vets are not exactly doctors of medicine, but don't you think for a second they aren't gonna notify the cops about Daryl's injuries!"

"Don't fucking snap at her, asshole, that's twice you've done it," Daryl growled, from where he was doubling over and gritting his teeth together so hard Rose feared he might crack a tooth.

"Got it," Joe said, ignoring Daryl's outburst. The front door of the clinic slid open slowly, revealing a dark corridor behind it.

Both Rose and Joe grabbed Daryl by his arms and helped him up, before Joe kicked the door in and they entered the dark building.

She helped Daryl on the first chair she spotted, and he crashed onto it heavily. The blood soaked again his shirt and she had an instant flashback to the rainy, dark road where she had found him, just mere days ago. So much had happened in that relatively short period of time that she wasn't sure if she was just having a very vivid nightmare.

"I need to clean this properly this time," she said, and began lifting Daryl's shirt up.

"Do whatever makes you feel better about it," he growled, his knuckles white as he clutched the armrests of the seat.

"You don't have to be rude," she said back.

He huffed as a reply but said nothing else. Battlefield medicine and Daryl were old friends, despite this didn't exactly qualify as a battlefield.

She didn't look up at him, she concentrated on peeling the gauze away. Daryl growled, the sound rising from deep of his throat, and fingers curling into tight fists, as she slowly pulled the gauze off the wound. His skin felt hot like embers to an outstretched palm over a fire place.

After peeling the final strip of blood-soaked gauze from his skin, she looked up at Daryl. He didn't have to look at the wounds on his abdomen to know that the look she gave him meant she was about to start cleaning them and she wouldn't take a 'no' for an answer.

She stood from the seat she had sat down absentmindedly and began rummaging through the cabinets and drawers she could open. When she came to a locked cabinet, she frowned and turned around, her gaze landing on Joe.

"Can you open this?" she asked pointedly.

Joe raised his eyebrows equally pointedly and gave another look at Daryl.

"This little bird is sure somethin' different, ain't she?" he asked from him, not expecting a reply, before he sauntered over to the cabinet.

"This little bird saw you pick the lock of the front door, and is sure you can do it again," Rose replied slightly annoyed, and walked briskly back to Daryl's seat. It made Daryl chortle out loud, followed by a loud groan as his abdominal muscles contracted and the pain shot through his nerve endings. She pushed him back in his seat, as she pulled a chair with wheels to herself absentmindedly and sat down.

She began cleaning up the wound on Daryl's abdomen, her entire focus now on the task, and ignoring both men, as well as the dogs.

"We gotta move soon," Joe grumbled, peeking through the blinders, looking worriedly at the dark yard of the vet clinic.

"Not until I'm done with this," Rose replied defiantly and continued to swab the largest wound with a large Q-tip and a cotton pad.

Joe frowned and gave a meaningful look at Daryl, who didn't bother to react to that in any way. He was clutching the armrests of the chair and trying his best not to fidget too much. She would have to clean his wounds just well enough for him to get her out of the town.

He turned to look at the four dogs sitting and laying down on the floor near them.

"Thinking what I'm thinking?" Joe asked then and made Daryl shudder.

"What?" Rose asked, lifting her head up.

"Nothin'," Daryl replied quickly and tried to signal to Joe to keep his trap shut.

"Aww," Joe said pretending to actually have emotional range of a human being, "Dixon ain't want to get your feelings hurt. I can do it for him. The dogs ain't travelling too well with us. They're like ice cream on a hot day."

"You want to leave my dogs at some vet's office? After we broke in?" Rose asked back sharply, looking at Daryl first, before turning to look at Joe.

"Nah, didn't mean…" Daryl began.

"You do realize that they are all security chipped and registered to me?" she asked coolly, jabbing the cotton pad slightly rougher at Daryl's abdomen. He flinched and shifted in the seat.

"Jesusfuck, you're so pussy whipped," Joe grumbled in a protest that he knew was futile and then, proceeded to head to the front door, "I'mma gonna go find us a new car. Stay put. Where ya wanna head to?" Joe asked from Daryl, "I should know if the car need be in better shape or not."

"San Francisco."

The yard of a small wooden cabin was filled with cars of the local Sheriff's Department. An ambulance and a pair of paramedics loitered at the sidelines, which only indicated that there was no one in a dire need of medical assistance.

Negan parked his car at the end of the muddy cabin road and chewed his bottom lip aggressively. He was growing his beard out again, and his skin was itchy making him easily irritable. He scratched his chin, observing the commotion around the cabin.

"Small towns," he huffed to himself, rolling his eyes. It would have been preferable if he had reached the cabin before the law enforcement managed to come and poke and dissect everything, but he had to make do with what he had now.

His eyes landed on a white and blue Jeep with 'Medical Examiner' written to its side, as he slowly pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. Continuing to keep a close eye on the vehicle in question, he flipped open the shell of the phone and pressed number one to speed dial to his boss.

"I'm here," he grumbled as he received and answer.

"And?" the receiver of the call, Negan's boss, Governor Philip Blake asked expectantly. Negan huffed through his nose, as he frowned a little at the question.

"Nothing. They left a dead body here. Looks like one of the men you hired, sir," Negan answered, trying to keep his voice as smooth as he physically could. As much as he thought Governor Blake to be slightly moronic man, with delusions of grandeur, he had too much reach and power to be upset suddenly.

"Interesting. Daryl Dixon going rogue against all the odds," Blake replied, with a chuckle, and Negan could hear him shake his head.

"It would appear so," he answered. While still listening to Blake, he reached into his glove compartment and pulled out a folded map.

"You know what to do, Negan," Blake said, his voice sounding rather disappointed, and before he could reply, Blake had ended the call.

"Yes, Sir," he said to himself, closing the shell, and tossing it onto the seat next to him. He grinned as he looked at the Sheriff and his deputies scamper around the yard, looking at the ground and finding bullets and casings here and there, and trying to act like they had any idea how to process a crime scene like this.

A second later, Negan didn't even flinch when one of the skinny, dark brown polyester wearing deputies suddenly knocked onto his car window. Instead, he plastered a shocked expression on his face and pressed a button to open the window.

"Sir, you can't be here," the young deputy said, trying to sound like he had the authority in the situation.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Deputy," Negan said, still grinning, "I seem to have taken a wrong turn somewhere. Trying to find the town of Bethel. What… What is going on here?"

"Sir, you don't have to worry about this. We are taking care of it. As for the instructions to the town… You should double back, turn right from where you turned here, and continue about 10 miles that road, until you turn left into the town," the deputy said, his tone of voice changing from mildly authoritarian to a friendly and helpful one.

It almost always intrigued Negan how people could be so innocent and trusting even when there was a moment where they should have been suspicious. And it almost always worked on his behalf because he had learned to manipulate these people as he pleased.

He thanked the lanky deputy and restarted his engine, making a swift U turn and heading back to the paved road. Half way up the hill, he dialed his phone again.

"Simon."

The sun was already rising from the horizon, when Daryl, supported heavily by Beth, rapped his knuckles against the door of the RV that had been parked at the beach. A Frankenstein of mobile homes, the silvery and white vehicle looked like it was a mutated offspring of an old Airstream and a luxury motorhome.

He was still achy, mostly because Beth hadn't been confident enough to pick up an antibiotic from the veterinarian's office that might have broken the infection down. Over the last ten-hour drive, he'd felt a jab of pain in his gut half a dozen times and seen stars each time, and he'd sought support from Beth and, reluctantly, Joe.

Joe Barlow, one time enemy and currently a tentative accomplice, stood behind the two holding one of Daryl's weapons, an assault rifle, in his hands, looking suspicious and awed at the same time. The expression on his face melted from suspicious to surprised followed quickly by intrigue the longer he continued to eye the surroundings of the beach side trailer park.

It wasn't one of those trailer parks one might automatically think when talking about them. It was rather a strange combination of a retreat and camping ground, smacked in the middle of a yacht club, a national park, and a large collection of various restaurants, stores and boutiques. It was almost as if it was a community of its own.

"Your friend lives here? What is he, a rich slacker?" Joe asked, swiveling to look at Daryl.

"Hmph," Daryl gruntled, not certain if Joe was being condescending or if he was failing at humor in life.

The dogs panted in the humid and already rising temperature of California, and gathered around Beth and Daryl like a protective, furry shield. Daryl watched Beth reach her one free hand to touch each dog and scratch behind their ears briefly.

The beach was empty of people at 5 am. As the sun continued to creep up and light the area, they could see birds beginning their flight and seagulls cawing as they called out to the morning sun.

"Fucking roosters of the sea," Joe huffed, and made Rose chuckle out loud, "Caw-fucking-caw, the sun is up!" Joe continued and flapped his arms a little. Daryl gave a disapproving look at the older man and rolled his eyes at the blonde woman finding Joe funny at that moment.

Desna and Atka both huffed a half a bark out and Beth brought her finger to her lips to shush the dogs to be quiet. Nanuk and Qilaq were too distracted by the scents on the fake grass and pillows to be bothered by anything else drawing their attention.

The injured man knocked again, this time louder. He shifted, taking a step back from the door, expecting an answer quickly but again, the RV remained quiet, lifeless.

"Fuck," he groaned, looking down frustrated. His eyes landed on the large green turf, mimicking grass under their feet, and a sea of pillows littered around the fireplace that was smacked in the middle of the fake grass. The still smoldering embers in the fireplace radiated heat, and he could feel it on his face. His eyebrows arched, and for a fleeting second, he thought they might have walked to a wrong RV.

Joe sauntered over to the green turf, kicked it few times with the dirty, dusty boots of his and snorted in a disapproving manner.

"Goddamn hippies," he then voiced out loud his opinion, and eyed at the outside decorations critically. It was Daryl's turn to chortle out loud, and glance at the man over his shoulder with a grin.

"Shut up," Joe growled back, realizing how he sounded like a grumpy old man, guarding the 'Good Ol' Days'.

"Well, ya ain't too wrong about that," Daryl wheezed, as he lifted his hand and banged his fist against the narrow door few times. This time, it took few seconds, until they received an answer for the knock.

The door opened slowly and first, Rose saw a man rubbing sleep off his eyes.

"Fucking Christ, who the hell is it?" he complained, trying to focus his eyes on the people disrupting his sleep.

He wore black, baggy pants, hanging low on his narrow hips. His hair was dirty blonde, hastily wrapped into a messy bun atop his head. There were strands of hair sticking out and making it look little bit exploded. His beard, despite also being messy, was neatly trimmed.

Rose frowned a little as she looked up at the man. He had managed to pry his eyes open, and as his gaze landed on Daryl, surprise and disbelief alternated on his face for few measly seconds before he broke into a grin that lit up his entire being.

"Daryl Dixon, as I live and breathe," he said, smirking like the proverbial cat.

Atka started it first and was joined in Desna and Qilaq. The three dogs began to bark, and Rose startled, practically jumping out of her skin and speedily spun around to command her dogs to keep quiet.

"Quiet!" she snapped, receiving less than imminent response from the dogs, and she had to give the order twice more. Finally getting the dogs back under her control, she turned to look at the men in front of her, her cheeks feeling hot.

"Paul," Daryl greeted then grumpily, gritting his teeth together, and hissing out as he shifted and the pain in his abdomen jabbing him again. The sound of air escaping through the clenched teeth of Daryl's wiped the smirk of the man's face and he hopped down from the RV's steps.

Worry laced his voice when he moved on to help Beth, to get Daryl seated on the steps of the RV's doorway, "What's wrong, love?"

"Nothin'," Daryl replied, holding his breath as he sat down and letting it then wheeze out.

"He was injured," Beth said, looking at him like she was about to cry. It was possible, though. She had been awfully quiet after they had left the vet clinic and huddled in the back seat with the dogs.

"Injured how?" Paul asked, and gave a quick once over to the grump seated on the steps.

"It's nothin'," Daryl replied, holding his abdomen, as if to trick his brain into believing everything was fine. His attention was drawn by Joe, sauntering closer and eyeing at the half naked man with growing interest.

"Injured how, Daryl?" Paul asked again, this time more demandingly.

Daryl grumbled, and waved his arm as if to dismiss the judgment in Paul's voice.

"Paul, this is Be-, uh, this is Rose, and that's Joe," he said instead, trying to change the subject. He didn't need a lecture from the long-haired man.

"Rose, Joe, this asshole is Jesus," he finished introductions.

"'m sorry? Jesus?" Joe interrupted and grinned, his eyes still on Paul's, Jesus', frame.

Paul straightened up, turning his head to look directly at Rose and Joe. He grinned, and shrugged his shoulders, "Paul Rovia, but my friends call me Jesus," he then said, extending his hand to Rose. She took it shaking it slightly confounded and blushed when he leaned down, lifting her hand up at the same time, and kissed the back of her hand.

"R-Rose Howe," she stuttered her reply, and then pulling swiftly her hand back.

Daryl chortled, "What a Prince Charming."

"You were AWOL from the course where they taught us to be gentlemanly to the women," Jesus said and winked at Rose.

"Jesus."

"That's mah name!"

Joe burst into laughter and Paul leaned over Daryl, grabbing him by his arm and helping him stand up, "C'mon, you accident prone bastard. Get in the RV and you can tell me all about - - this," he said, gesturing vaguely towards Daryl's abdomen, "You're in luck, Grouchy. I have an old friend visiting."

"Jesus?" the voice coming from the door way of the trailer shut all four up and they turned to look.