Just a Dream

The feeling of weightlessness was the first thing I noticed when I came back from Dreamland. My body rocked forward then back gently like I was standing on the deck of a boat as the waves crashed rhythmically against the bow. It made me feel safe, secure, but that couldn't be right. I hated boats, despised water in general, so there is no way a boat should make me this damn happy. I felt a pair of arms pull me closer against a solid chest as I adjusted my body and sighed. I realized where I was and who was holding me. This was much better than a boat. His ass was so firm you could bounce a quarter off it. Could a boat say that? No it could not.

There may be an "Out of Order" sticker stamped on me right now, but like everything where Hawkeye was concerned my awareness of him defied logic. He slipped past my carefully constructed walls like they didn't exist, wormed his way under my skin, and invaded my blood until he seized what was left of my black heart. I knew these arms, recognized his comforting scent, had long ago memorized the deep rumble of his voice in his chest when he spoke. The urge to sleep was tempting, but I heard panicked voices flying above me and I fought to open my eyes.

"What happened?" Hershel. Only he could authoritative and concerned all in the same breath.

"Found her in a warehouse not far from here, her ribs are broken, maybe her legs. She's got a head injury that stopped bleeding but probably left her with a concussion, she was choked, there's a stab wound to her right shoulder, multiple cuts and bruises, and she was...drowned." Rick's voice was tight with anger, the last word sounding like it put a bitter taste in his mouth.

I heard Beth's quiet sobs followed closely by Carol's words of reassurance, always the optimist that one. Maggie's voice was steady as she asked her father what to do. The worst the crisis the calmer the woman got, clearly she picked up some Zen somewhere along the way. Daryl would be proud. Lori's gasp of shock lasted only a second before I heard feet scrapping along the floor and the gentle click of a door closing. It was a nice gesture, but I could still hear her quaking sobs like she was right next to me. The walls in this place must be made of paper. Well, that and Lori girl cried like a champ. The arms holding me tightened, cocooning me against his body, creating a shield against prying eyes. I wasn't sure if he was trying to protect me from the group's reaction or the world itself. Daryl, always the protector. That would make a fabulous T-shirt slogan.

I felt him bend forward, lying me down on something incredible soft and plush, something I hadn't experienced since before the turn, a bed. It was a sad testament to our times that you needed to be in the middle of a Code Blue situation to have the privilege of sleeping on something as soft as a marshmallow. Hershel called out instructions, presumable to his daughters since it was in a language no one understood but the Greene's.

"How long has she been unconscious?" he asked.

I wasn't unconscious, was I? Unconscious people didn't eavesdrop on conversations. Why couldn't I open my eyes? Why couldn't I move?

"Twenty minutes," Daryl answered.

He sounded tired and that made me worry. I wanted to tell him to rest, but since I couldn't swallow without wanting to cry I didn't see that happening anytime soon. As much as I wanted him to, no needed him to, he shouldn't have come after me. He was still recovering from his illness, and now he was paying the price for doing too much too soon, and it was my fault. The thought stung, hurt more than all the physical injuries I sustained combined. I didn't want anyone suffering for me, least of all him.

I felt a prick on my arm, a needle puncturing my sensitive skin, an IV, and I knew if I didn't open my eyes now I wouldn't get the chance for a while. Hershel's medication dosage tended to be a little heavy handed. The man filled those syringes with enough drugs to put down a Clydesdale. Made sense since he was a vet, but not everyone was a Clydesdale. I was more in the realm of a pygmy goat. With Herculean effort I tried to pry my eyes open, needing to see for myself that I was safe, that I was no longer in the warehouse, that Daryl was actually beside me. I needed to make sure it wasn't all a dream. I needed to know I was still alive.

"Daryl," I whimpered my voice hoarse as one eye opened then the other, my vision unclear due to swelling. I felt a hand clutch mine and then he was there, leaning over me, his face the picture of concern.

"M'here."

"Where am I?"

This place didn't look familiar. It certainly wasn't the storage units unless they decided to do a House Hunters Renovation while I was gone. I was in a bedroom, a real one this time, surrounded by antique furniture illuminated with lanterns that were strategically placed around the room. I heard the creaks of the hardwood floor as everyone rushed back-and-forth. The air smelled stagnant, moldy from lack of ventilation. It was definitely a house.

"Safe," he answered simply.

He didn't elaborate, and in truth it made little difference. I knew we planned to move on from the storage units and given our encounter with a hostile group it made sense Rick choose to relocate sooner rather than later. A burning sensation spread down my arm, traveling through my veins like fire. I'd had enough pain medication to know what came next, night-night time for the Clydesdale.

All at once everything churning inside me surged to the surface filling me with absolute terror. The most overwhelming of which was the need to not defenseless. Assuming Hershel hadn't dosed me with enough pain killers to stop my heart once they kicked in I'd be unarmed, vulnerable and completely helpless. My thoughts spiraled out of control like weeds in a garden.

What if they left me behind?

My injuries were substantial and handicapped the group's ability to move when needed, and I knew better than most that movement was life. It would make sense to abandon me. I was a liability we couldn't afford.

If I was a better person I'd tell them not to worry, that I understood and to go. In an alternate reality I was a selfless person who would smile bravely while telling them not to feel guilty. It made sense and it was the right thing to do, but there was one glaring issue. I wasn't a good person. I was scared and selfish. This group was everything I never knew I wanted, everything I never knew I needed, and the thought of being without them felt like a fate worse than death.

Daryl sensed the change immediately, his eyebrows furrowed as he sat down beside me, the bed dipping slightly at his weight. My breathing was coming painfully fast, putting pressure on my broken ribs that even the Clydesdale pain medication was unable to touch, but I couldn't calm down. My eyes were wide now, flicking around the room at everyone as I tried to contain my rising anxiety. I hadn't realized until right now how strong my fear of losing these people actually was. How scared I was of losing Daryl.

"Alex, ya gotta calm down," he whispered, holding one hand in his and gently caressing the side of my face with the other.

I shook my head, my headache pounding painfully against my temples as I sobbed, "Please don't leave me."

Later I'd be mortified at my words, embarrassed at my weakness, but right now, I couldn't conjure up even one fuck about it. I couldn't pretend to be brave right now. I simply didn't have the energy. Daryl's squeezed my hand his thumb gently swiping tears away from my face I didn't realize were falling. Before these people came into my life I was never a crier. Hell I hadn't even shed a tear when my parent's died (which all my therapists told me was a bad thing), but ever since I joined this group it was like I developed an allergic reaction feelings.

Someone almost dies, I cried.

Daryl gets sick, I cried.

We run out of ABCs and 123s, I cried.

The group had fundamentally changed me in a way I wasn't sure I understood. They became my family and the thought of losing them caused a pain far worse than a broken bone or a stab wound. People leaving was a pattern in my life. Whether by choice or death they all left in the end. I thought I was used to it, the feeling of never being enough, of being abandoned and alone. What I didn't realize until this very moment was I never accepted it I just found a way to survive it. Something told me I wouldn't be so lucky this time. You didn't make it in this world alone, you needed people and these were my people.

"Shhh," Daryl cooed in a voice I'd never heard him use. "We ain't leavin' ya." He paused, swallowing thickly as his eyes glanced around the room. He shifted closer, away from prying ears. He wasn't one for public declarations and the room was packed full of people, but he put aside his own issues to help me with mine. "Told ya, I ain't never leavin' ya."

I squeezed his hand weakly. I needed to hear those words. I needed them before, when I lost my shit in a broom closet, and I needed them now. My body relaxed, my breathing slowing down as he pressed his lips against my forehead gently, clearly uncomfortable with the act given the audience, but he did it because I needed it.

When he pulled back his beautiful, blue eyes looked different, and somehow, even through the fog of drugs and pain I knew a line had been crossed between us. I wasn't sure what it was or what it meant, but to me it felt like possibility. A shift from who we were to who we might be, in time. My eyes drifted closed, the pull of the medication too strong to ignore any longer, his hand firmly locked in mine. My last conscious thought only one word, hope.

"Haley run!" I screamed, stabbing a walker in the head as I held another off with my other hand.

They were coming at me from all angles, pulling and grabbing, pushing and snarling in a circle as I tried to keep them at bay. I slashed and stabbed, dancing around them as I took them down one right after the other only to have another immediately take their place. I glanced back at my sister who was running for the truck and felt myself relax. At least she would be safe. I kicked the legs out from under a walker, my leg traveling straight through their decaying skin and bone like I was tearing paper. I jumped back, barely avoiding the ragged, bloody nails of another lunging dangerously close to my face.

I didn't care what happened to me as long as my sister made it out. I hadn't told her that, knew she'd never leave the safety of the store if she thought I wouldn't be right behind her, but my plan had only one goal and that was her living, period. My life for hers was a price I would pay a hundred times over. Hell, that was a bargain bin special. She was the best of us. After everything I'd done in my life death would be a mercy I didn't deserve.

A walker grabbed my shoulder, yanking me back with such force I lost my balance, tumbling down to the street in a heap, walkers pressing in from all sides. I heard Haley scream and my stomach clinched in real fear for the first time since I watched a husband rip out the throat of his wife while she tried in vain to protect her children. Plunging my knife into a walker's head I flung it off me with a scream, rushing to my feet as I cut a path through the herd of walkers with the knives in both my hands.

Once I was standing, I searched for Haley, my eyes wide with horror as a walker grabbed her by the arm, dragging her towards him even as she tried to dig her heels in. The dead were far stronger than the living and her feeble attempts to dislodge the creature sent a chill down my spine as her scream pierced my heart. I killed the walker right in front of me, jumping over the fallen body without a second glance and then I was running, pushing as fast as I could towards her. She thrashed wildly, trying to free herself, the knife I gave her on the ground at her feet.

I knew without a doubt I wasn't going to make it, I was too far away. I pulled my arm back, letting a knife fly, the blade twisting end-over-end as it barreled towards the walker who held her in his iron grip. It crashed into the side of his head, sending both of them tumbling to the ground.

Skidding to a stop I pulled the walker off Haley, tossing it to the side as I hauled her to her feet, dread pooling in my stomach like dead weight. Her cheeks were streaked with tears, but it was the agony on her face that made me shutter, bile burning its way up my throat. Looking at her neck I felt a piece of my soul die right there on the war torn streets of Atlanta. Her shoulder was torn open, ripped apart so savagely I could see sinew and bone, a jagged piece of flesh missing. Blood poured down her body so fast it seemed impossible she was still alive. She sagged, and I caught her, pulling her towards the truck as the herd regrouped, heading straight for us.

"Alex..."

"No," I interrupted, pulling her into the truck and closing the door then running around to the driver's side.

I kept my eyes off her, ignoring her moans of pain and tears as I bent down underneath the console, ripping away the steering column and inspecting the a roll of electrical wires that spilled out. Swiping at the tears on my face to clear my vision I fumbled with the battery ignition and starter wires, looking for the power supply for the ignition switch. I could hear walkers banging against the truck, making it rock back-and-forth as I fished a small wire stripper from my pocket, cutting away at the insulation. Haley's cries made my hands shake violently as I wrapped the battery wires together, twisting them into a knot, the cars console lighting up.

"Hold on," I told her. She didn't reply and I couldn't find the courage to look at her.

Carefully I stripped the starter wire which was live, and touched it to the knotted battery cables. The engine sputtered, a rattling sound coming from beneath the hood, and I revved the engine to avoid a stall. Once I was sure it wouldn't die I detached the starter wire and slammed a screwdriver into the steering wheel column with more force than necessary, and the lock on the wheel snapped, freeing the steering column. I pressed the gas pedal to the floor, mowing down walkers in front of us as they slammed into the bumper, traveling up onto the hood before colliding with the windshield and falling to the side. I didn't slow down, didn't stop, didn't think as I steered us out of the hellhole that was downtown Atlanta.

The entire process took less than three minutes, but as I weaved out of the overrun streets glancing at my sister and knew it was three minutes too long. She was dead the moment the walker sunk its teeth in her. She was slumped awkwardly against the passenger side door, her body still, her chest unmoving. I didn't know what I was thinking bringing her. I knew there was nothing I could do, that I couldn't save her, but leaving her behind to get eaten by those things wasn't an option. She deserved better. She deserved better than death, but I failed her, again.

I drug my eyes back to the road, my grip on the steering wheel so tight I thought my knuckles might shatter, and I couldn't control the shaking in my body no matter how hard I tried. Once I hit the freeway I stopped pretending to be strong and let the tears fall, weeping harder than I'd let myself since I was a child. When I put enough distance between us and Atlanta I pulled off to the side of the road, nothing in sight except a traffic jam doubling as a cemetery.

When the car stopped I sat there for a while my gaze unfocused as I stared out the windshield at nothing in particular. My mind raced with every thought imaginable, but I couldn't hold onto a single one. I was at a loss to decipher what I was thinking or feeling. Everything was spiraling in and out so fast I couldn't make heads or tails of anything. I wasn't sure how long I sat there, but the sun was setting by the time I opened my door. It took me another couple of minutes to step out of the truck, my legs like lead blocks as I moved at barely more than a shuffle. I stood in front of the passenger side door, my heart broken as I took in my sister's ashen face, the blood spattered window, and her lifeless body. The tears had finally stopped. My body numb as I ran on autopilot. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew I was in shock. Opening the door I caught her body as she fell out, and I squeezed my eyes shut, looking away from her face. I was no stranger to pain. I had even experienced death and lived to tell the tale, but this felt nothing like that. This was by far worst feeling I had ever had the displeasure to experience. The pain in my chest was so intense it felt like it might crush me. It made it hard to move, breathe, think, exist. Death was easy compared to this.

Adjusting her in my arms I carried her into the woods lining the highway. I walked and walked, stumbling more than a few times, but I kept going. I might have walked with her forever but when I climbed a small hill I saw a giant oak tree and stopped. Lying her down next to the tree I stood up, looking around. It was pretty here, peaceful. Haley would have loved it. She would have noticed nature's beauty, commented on how special it felt up here almost floating in the sky. She would have taken a minute to savior the magical feeling of this place like a gift. She always saw the beauty in everything, even when it wasn't there. Looking down at her I brushed the hair out of her face, wiping away as much blood and grim as I could, anything to make her look like my sister again. When I was done I collapsed next to her body, wrapping my arms around legs as I rocked, weeping so hard I couldn't see through my tears.

I knew what I had to do. I just didn't know if I could do it.

With shaky movements I pulled my PPQ from my holster, pulling the slide back and chambering a single round. My hand fell to the ground, the weight of the gun too much to bear, my head hanging as shuttering sobs made it difficult to breath. I leaned forward over her body and screamed. I screamed at the injustice, at the pain, at the fact I was still here and she was gone. In a second I lost my family and on that hill next to a beautiful, giant oak tree I mourned the loss. Taking a deep breath, I tried to calm myself down enough to do what had to be done. I pointed the weapon at her forehead, my arm trembling.

"I love you Haley," I wept. "I'm sorry."

It was never supposed to be her. She deserved better than this. It should have been me. I was ready for it to be me. I heard a strangled moan and looked down, the once beautiful brown eyes of my sister now cloudy and unfocused as they opened again. She deserved better than this world and if the only thing I could give her was peace then I would. I choked on a sob, closing my eyes and turning my head away. Then I pulled the trigger.

"Haley!" I jolted awake, crying out in pain as the sudden movement, pain coming from too many places at once to identify. I saw something move to my right as Daryl shot out of the chair next to the bed.

"Yur a'right," he assured me, looking me over from head to toe.

I was under a thin, white sheet, in clothes that were not my own which consisted of nothing more than one of Daryl's T-shirt and a pair of underwear, thank god for small mercies. An IV was in my arm with a bag hanging beside the bed on a rusty nail. My throat was so dry it felt like I swallowed cotton balls wrapped in sandpaper.

"Water," I croaked and he nodded. Unscrewing a water bottle and carefully tipping it against my chapped lips. "Thanks."

He nodded, setting it back on the nightstand as he sat down on the bed. I took stock of my body, my ribs were wrapped underneath my shirt and they felt tender so no surprise there. My legs were on fire, and I wondered what I'd find if I lifted up the sheet, probably every color on the rainbow, but I could feel my toes as I wiggled them so it was nothing that wouldn't heal, eventually. My headache was manageable, but I could feel a goose egg at the base of my skull that made lying on my back uncomfortable. I brought my hands up to my face, ignoring the cuts and bruises on my wrists as I gingerly touched my cheeks and eyes, trying to assess the damage without the aid of a mirror. Everywhere was tender and felt too big, the wrong shape and size. Sighing, I let my hands drop. I was a mess.

"Do I look ugly enough to derail a train?" He gave me an unamused look. "Too soon?" I asked and he nodded curtly. "Did I at least get it right?"

He rolled his eyes, "Nah, fucked it up as usual." I laughed and then I grunted in pain, stupid ribs. "Jesus Red, will ya take it easy."

I waved him off, taking shallow breaths until the pain passed. "Will you tell me what it is?" His lips thinned, not in the mood to joke around (when was he ever?) but he indulged me nonetheless.

"It's yur so ugly you'd make a freight train take a dirt road."

I grinned. "I was close."

"Were not."

"Was to."

"Not."

"Was."

He sighed, crossing his arms over his massive chest as he pinned me with a look. Now it was my turn to roll my eyes. That shit didn't work on me. I was probably the only person on the planet that could say that. His demeanor shifted, just barely, but I saw it, dreading what he would say next.

"Who's Haley?"

Daryl never pried, ever. He was fiercely protective of his privacy. He didn't ask unnecessary questions and expected the same in return. It helped he didn't give two shits about anyone else's business. He'd shared small bits of his past with me, but most of the time it was anecdotal at best and only included a minimal amount of detail. To an outsider that might not look like much, but I knew it was leaps and bounds beyond what he offered others which was a big, fat nothing.

I couldn't look at him as I answered, "My sister." I didn't say anything else because there was nothing else to say. He nodded, able to fill in the gaps.

"Gonna get Hershel." He stood up, walking towards the door.

"Daryl." He paused, glancing over his shoulder at me. "Thanks for finding me, for getting me out of there." He turned back to the door. I could see the tension in his shoulders, the weight of responsibility he carried around.

"Saved yurself Red." I frowned. That wasn't how I remembered it. " Killed four before we ever knew ya were missin', and made sure we'd find that damn warehouse." Well, when he put it that way I did sound kind of awesome.

"Ya didn't need us," he added. Debatable, but I was too tired to argue. "M'gonna kill that sumbitch."

"You're gonna have to get in line Katniss."

He turned, smirking slightly before throwing me a wink that had the potential to melt my panties right out from under me. "We'll see."

Oh, it was on like Donkey Kong. Just as soon as I could sit up without assistance. Hershel puttered into the room, fussing about every scratch as he unloaded an Encyclopedia Britannica worth of instructions for my recovery.

Blah, blah, blah...broken ribs.

Words, words, words...concussion.

Noise, noise, noise...stab wound.

"Are you even listening?" he asked and I nodded.

Truth? I stopped listening right after he said hello. He looked at me expectantly and I cleared my throat to buy more time, Daryl grinning at me from his spot against the wall. He looked sinful leaning there with one leg propped up, arms crossed over his chest as he sported his usual sleeveless shirt with trademark vest and jeans so sexy my mouth watered. My heart rate reaching levels that could not be medically safe. Was it normal to be turned on by denim?

"I'm hurt," I offered lamely. Daryl snorted and Hershel scowled. "Bad."

Now Hershel was shaking his head. "I'm going to remove the IV, but you need to get lots of fluids. Daryl, I'm trusting you to take care of her."

"Hey!"

I didn't need John Rambo to fluff my pillow. Although, if he was gonna do it on those jeans, or none at all, then maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Maybe I could get a sponge bath out of this. Stupid hormones. I wonder if Hershel had anything in his magic medicine bag that could help with inappropriately sexual thoughts?

"Yeah," Daryl promised, ignoring my outrage.

Hershel was sneaky. He did that on purpose, knowing how seriously Daryl took a vow on any kind. I'd be lucky to pee without him hovering next to the toliet. Once Hershel was gone he looked at me expectantly.

"Ya gonna corporate?" I snorted then winced, damn that hurt.

"It's like you don't know me at all."

"Damn near died Red, should listen to the man." He tried to sound tough, but I heard the fear in his voice. I scared him and he didn't like the feeling one bit.

"But I didn't," I clarified. "Few broken ribs, a bump on the head and a teeny-tiny stab wound are nothing."

He scowled and I smiled, trying hard not to flinch at the cut on my lip. All things considered I was very lucky. Hershel's best guess was my legs weren't broken, just severely bruised and hurting like a son of a bitch, but without an X-ray who really knew. My bruises and cuts were already mending, and there wasn't much that could be done except wait where they were concerned. It was my bum ribs and knife wound that would slow me down for at least a few weeks according to Doctor Quinn Medicine Woman. A light knock at the door ended our staring contest, which I won by the way, as Carl poked his head into the room.

"Can I come in?"

"Yes," I answered before Daryl could so much as open his mouth. "Did you bring them?"

Carl smiled wide, holding up a couple of comic books in his hand as he bounded into the room with energy only a child could manage, gently climbing on the bed beside me. I could practically hear Daryl rolling his eyes as Carl opened up the battered copy of Superman: The Man of Tomorrow, Volume 1, Number 122.

I didn't approve of Carl's choice in superheroes, but anything was better than sitting around waiting for bones to mend. Well, that wasn't true, but Daryl refused to give me a strip tease and we agreed to table the sponge bath for later debate. He wasn't sold it would speed my recovery. I don't remember that being a key point in my argument, but whatever. I gave him five minutes before he pushed off the wall and left the room out of sheer boredom. He only made it three. I didn't even look up as he left, absorbed in the pages as Carl talked rapidly in defense of Superman.

"See, he has lasers shooting out of his eyes! That is so totally cool!" he exclaimed. "Wonder Woman doesn't have shi..." I gave him a pointedly look and he blushed, amended his word choice, "Anything on Superman."

Lori was right, I was a bad influence. I'd do better with Nugget. Maybe.

"What are you supposed to be doing right now?" I asked, still reading the comic book so I could poke holes in his theories.

"Math."

I didn't get Lori's incessant need to continue with his formal education, but I'd sooner bathe in walker guts than tell her that. I wasn't a parent and the only thing I ever tried to take care of had died when I forgot to water it for a week straight. Given my track record I'd leave the decision making on this one to the professionals.

"Hmm," I answered noncommittally.

"It's stupid, right?" I kept my focus on the comic book. That was a trap. "I mean, what would I ever use it for now?"

I snorted, "You wouldn't have used it before this. They tell you that crap in school to keep you from chucking up the deuces and dropping out the first chance you get. Used to tell me I'd use it every day when I balanced my checkbook."

"Did you?"

"No." I never had any checks to bounce.

"See, I don't get it. I need to be doing things that matter," he sighed, clearly frustrated.

Closing the comic book I looked at him. "It matters Carl."

"But you said..."

I interrupted him, "Your mom is trying to make sure you remember the world before, trying to make sure you're better than all this. This will end, someday, and you're going to be one of the people to rebuild this world. That matters." He bit his lip as he considered my words. "It's also helpful if you can accurately count walkers."

He looked at me with a frown, rolling his eyes. "I could do that before."

"If you say so hero, but I clearly remember you yelling a dozen were headed straight for us and it was like what...three?"

"I was nervous," he muttered, embarrassed.

I bumped my hand against his. "I'll cover for you. It's what favorite Aunt's do, but you gotta find a time to get it done. If she corners me I don't know how long I can hold out."

Luke Cage had nothing on Lori when she went into interrogation mode. He nodded and I winked at him as he opened the comic book and began reading again. I leaned my head against the headboard, closing my eyes intending to catch a nap, but a crashing sound followed closely by a gunshot made us both tense. Carl shot out of bed and I slowly sat up while trying really hard not to cry.

"What was that?" he asked, moving towards the door.

"Carl stop!" I pulled the sheet away from me, swinging my horrendously bruised legs out of bed. I cringed as I remembered I still wasn't wearing pants, just Hanna's thankfully gigantic T-shirt. Good thing he had a few inches on me, the shirt brushing the top of my thighs or this would get real awkward real quick. "Don't open that door."

Carl turned around, eyes bulging as another gunshot sounded from somewhere in the house. Standing up gingerly my legs wobbled and throbbed, but I swallowed hard, steadying myself on the bed before taking steps towards the dresser by the door.

"Help me move it," I instructed and he nodded, the two of us pushing and pulling until the heavy antique dresser was blocking the only entrance into the room. I leaned against the wall, breathing hard as I clutched my ribs, sweat already dripping down my face. "Give me your gun and get my bag from the corner. There's a knife in the left boot, take it."

He didn't argue, handing over his firearm and snatching up my pack as he tucked the knife into his belt, tossing me the boots which I stepped into, rolling my eyes at my outfit or lack thereof. I knew I should have stood my ground with Daryl on the pants issue, now look at me, about to fight my way through a herd in nothing but a T-shirt, panties and combat boots. This was payback for the Magic Mike comments. Thank god I had underwear on. There was no coming back from that one.

I struggled to formulate something resembling a plan. If someone was popping off rounds inside the house things were bad on the other side of that door. We couldn't go out that way. I didn't know the layout and was too slow to trust my ability to keep Carl safe. We may not know what was going on outside of this room, but one thing was certain. We couldn't stay here. This place was old and rickety. A herd of any size could rip the house down in no time. Stumbling towards the night stand I grabbed the medication Hershel left, handing it to Carl who wordlessly shoved it in his pockets, his face full of dread.

"We're gonna be fine," I assured him. I'd die before I let anything get near him which just might happen today. "The window."

He ran to it as I followed at a much more subdued pace like a crawl. The gunfire was still going off sporadically, but I didn't hear any footsteps in the house. The group wouldn't leave us and if anyone could get to us they would be here by now so my best guess was they were all fleeing outside. Our escape plan was always to get out and rendezvous at the cars for a quick getaway. We needed to get out of this room and get to the cars, fast. Glancing out the window I didn't see any walkers so I opened it, feeling a few stiches pop on my shoulder wound. This was not resting. Hershel was gonna be pissed.

Something smacked hard enough against the door to rattle the dresser and I glanced behind me, swallowing hard. Looking down at Carl his face was white and I offered him a small smile before turning back to the window. Time was up, we needed to move.

"I'll go first," I said, already bending over and climbing out.

My ribs felt like they were snapping one at a time as I twisted and turned, reaching my long legs out the window until they came into contact with the ground. Thank Jesus they picked a one story house and I was tall enough to be Harlem Globetrotter. My legs buckled once they hit the ground, unable to support my weight due to my injuries. Using the side of the house I clawed my way back up, scanning the immediate area for any walkers as my arm shook holding Carl's weapon. When I saw nothing in the vicinity I motioned for him to follow me, and he climbed out of the window so easily it was just depressing. Was this kid part cat?

"Stay behind me."

We moved forward, Carl's gun up and ready in my hand. I was going to hug the shit out of Lori when I saw her. If she hadn't finally conceding, letting Carl carry a gun I'd be defending us with nothing but a knife I couldn't properly use right now and a bottle of Percocet.

We were lucky my room was on the opposite side of where the attacked. Unluckily our cars were parked there and I was starting to doubt I'd be able to stay upright long enough to get us there. My vision was popping in an out of focus, like a camera zooming in only to zoom right back out way too fast. I was 100% sure I was going to puke at any moment.

We moved along the edge of the house, careful to avoid any windows as we made our way forward. I hadn't heard any gunshots lately, and I couldn't decide if that was a good thing or not. At the corner of the house we stopped and I was just about to peer around when a window shattered behind me. I spun around just in time to see a walker swan dive through it in an effort to grab Carl. I yanked on his shirt, pulling him so hard he stumbled forward and fell, but I didn't turn to check on him. I fired a round directly into the walkers head only to see another decaying head poke out the window.

Backing up I turned to Carl and then towards the front of the house. I saw the group fighting their way to the cars. Glenn and Maggie were in the back of the truck firing their rifles to clear a path for everyone. Carl scrambled back to his feet as I shot the walker who lunged for me.

"Go!" I screamed at him.

He paused, indecision written on his face, but I pushed him towards the cars and he sprinted off. I heard Rick yell his name as he changed his path, blazing a trail towards his son. Something grabbed my loose hair, yanking hard and my feet were pulled out from under me. My back hit the ground with a thump. For a second I couldn't see, I couldn't breathe, I could only feel and all I felt was agony. It felt like an eternity until my vision cleared. Once it did I wished for it hadn't.

A walker lunged at my face, their attack coming from over the top of me as I swung Carl's gun up and pulled the trigger. The shot was sloppy, clipping her in the throat and slowing her momentum some, but it wasn't enough to kill her. She dove at me and I put my injured arm out, barely able to hold her off so I could fire again, this time hitting her in the head as she fell to the side.

Before I could sigh in relief something grabbed my bare leg and I scrambled back as quick as my sluggish and uncooperative body would allow. The walker pulled with astonishing strength and I felt my body lurch forward, closer to their opened jaw. Before I could take aim an arrow flew in from somewhere to my right, impaling the walker that held me. Looking over I saw Daryl chewing up the distance between us as he sprinted, firing another arrow across the top of me at a walker I never saw coming.

With practiced precision he snatched up his two arrows, clipping them under his crossbow before strapping it onto his back. He bent down, slipping a hand under my legs and back as he picked me up. I was too glad to see him and in too much pain to argue. Plus, we both knew there was no way I would make it to the cars without help. I focused all my energy on ignoring the way his T-shirt rode up my body, exposing my legs and underwear. There would be time for mortification later, after we didn't die. At least I wasn't wearing granny panties. I was so hugging the shit out of Carol when I saw her. To his credit Daryl didn't even seem to notice as he pivoted around, running back towards the cars as the group picked off any walkers in our path.

"Don't tell Hershel," I bit out from between clenched teeth, trying to gut up and make it through the pain. He didn't respond, didn't even look at me as he ran to the back of the truck where Glenn and Maggie were waiting. Carefully, he laid me in the bed, his eyes narrowed to slits as he looked between me and his bike. "Go."

He hesitated for a second before nodding and jogging away. Moments later I heard the soothing rumble of his bike just as the truck pulled away. I scooted back gingerly, putting my back against the truck bed tucked firmly between Glenn and Maggie. She put her arms around me, pulling me closer as I closed my eyes, resting my head on her shoulder. That was close, too close.

I'm not sure how long we drove, but it was long enough that I had long since started drooling on Maggie's shirt by the time the truck slowed. Glenn cleared his throat uncomfortably, keeping his eyes diverted as he jumped out of the back of the truck and hightailed it out of there like it was on fire.

What in the hell was that about?

It wasn't until I looked down at myself that I remembered I was practically naked, wearing nothing but a ripped T-shirt that was hanging off my shoulder dangerously low, panties, and a pair of boots. I pulled at the shirt, attempting to cover my body, but it didn't do much.

"I'll go get you some clothes," Maggie offered, smiling at me kindly.

I only nodded, keeping my eyes down and hoping no one ventured over here until she got back. This was not a good look. No one approached the vehicle, but I could hear voices in the distance. Glancing around the cab I saw the group huddled a few feet away around Rick as he plotted our next move. Daryl was planted outside the circle, his body a literal wall between them and me with his legs a few feet apart, arms crossed over his chest, body rigid. The message was clear. If anyone wanted by you had to go through him. I didn't envy anyone that task. It would be easier to squeeze the wet out of water then get past that man when he held vigil.

I saw Maggie making her way back to me, an arm full of clothes and Carol in tow. Daryl nodded curtly at them, letting them pass without a word before his eyes snapped back up scanning for danger. I sighed, turning around and sliding forward until my legs hung off the end of the truck bed. Maggie deposited a pile full of clothes on the truck bed as Carol softly asked to check my bandages. I pulled the shredded shirt over my head, tossing it behind me, giving up on the semblance of modesty at this point.

"How do you feel?" she asked, unrolling a portion of the bandages before retightening them around my damaged midsection.

"Like shit," I answered honestly. Maggie smiled sadly, still feeling guilt that wasn't hers to bear. "I'll be fine as soon as I'm not naked on the side of the road. You know, normally I make someone buy me dinner before they get to see the goods."

Maggie flashed me a genuine smile as Carol laughed. I sifted through the clothes, grabbing a black bra and tank top, gingerly putting them on with more than a little assistance from Maggie and Carol. The top left little to the imagination it was so tight, but thankfully didn't rub against the bandages covering my knife wound. Probably Beth's if I was guessing. The young woman was quite a bit shorter than me and it showed in her clothes as I pulled at the bottom hem trying in vain to cover an expanse of exposed skin at my waist. It was no use, I was essentially wearing a crop top. Maybe it would pass for Apocalypse Chic? I was really hoping the jeans were someone else's. I drew the line at capris. I'd rather walk around in my not-granny panties and tank top than try to pull off that look.

Stepping into the jeans one leg at a time I winced as they traveled over my sore, bruised legs, but they fit great, if a little tight due to swelling, but they went all the way to my ankles. Bonus. I snagged my calf high, leather, boots and smiled as I tugged them on, feeling more like myself than I had in a while. You know what they say, fake it till you make it. I took care to tuck the bottom of the jeans into the boots before snapping the buckles closed.

I stood up slowly flanked by Carol and Maggie who looked ready spring into action should the occasion call for it. Now that I wasn't dressed like a Victoria Secret Angel doing a walk of shame after a long night I felt better even if my body was screaming at me to lie down for about a month. My shoulder wound was seeping blood like it'd sprung a leak, but despite that my spirits were high. I was 99% sure I looked like Lara Croft in this outfit which was never a bad thing. All I needed were my weapons back, a few dozen Percocet, and I'd be ready to raid the nearest tomb.

"Do either of you have a hair tie?" I asked, my hair spilling down my back.

Maggie handed me one, but between my shoulder wound and ribs I couldn't raise my hands above my head much less gather up my thick hair. Carol stepped forward, taking over as I sat back down on the tailgate like a good girl. With practiced precision she piled my hair on top of my head in my normal messy bun, and expertly secured the hair ties. It tore at my heart as I realized why she as good at this, Sophia.

When she was finished she stepped back, tears in her red rimmed eyes. I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her to me, both of us shedding a tear. Her for the daughter she lost. Me for the little girl I never knew but risked my life to find.

The three of us rounded the truck, making our way towards the group at a snail's pace. I was embarrassed the short walk winded me so drastically. I could nap for about a decade. I stopped next to Daryl whose eyes flicked to me briefly before returning to Rick, but he shifted closer, his arm brushing mine in silent greeting. My fingers reached out, touching his as he discreetly wrapped a finger around mine.

"We'll stay here tonight. It's too dangerous to go any further," Rick explained. "We've put enough distance between us and the herd that we can set up in the woods, but leave most of our supplies in the cars in case we need to leave in a hurry."

Lori's voice calling my name made Daryl take a measured step away, and I tried not to whimper like at the loss of contact. What was this man doing to me? Lori stopped a few feet away as I rubbed her mostly nonexistent belly with a smile.

"Is Nugget OK?" I asked, but she didn't answer, wrapping her arms around me with a quiet sob. "Lori, are you alright?"

Was something wrong with Nugget? Was Carl hurt? My eyes scanned the group frantically until I found him, walking with T, a sleeping bag in his hands and a small smile on his face. He didn't look hurt.

"No, no, everyone's fine. We're all fine." I frowned. Then why the girl crying? Seeing my confusion she laughed. "You saved him. Thank you."

"Lori, don't be ridiculous, you don't have to thank me for that."

Daryl raised his eyebrows at me, and I looked away remembering how he said the exact thing to me when I thanked him for saving my life. A still sniffling Lori was finally pulled away by Rick who somehow managed to send me an apologetic and grateful look all at the same time. That man had skillz. I shook my head as I watched them walk toward the woods. It was the closest they'd been in weeks, his arms draped around her shoulders as he ushered her forward. Maybe there was hope for them after all. As soon as they were in camp he deposited her on a log and stepped away, putting about 10 feet between them, his face clouded with anger as he peered down at her.

Or not.

Sighing I started the long shuffle towards camp. I figured at the rate I was moving I'd be there in no time, three, four hour's tops. A strong arm wrapped around my waist, resting on my hip, his hand brushing my bare skin as he supported me.

"Can't keep your hands out of pants can you Legolas?" I teased.

"Stop." He blushed, swallowing hard, and pointedly not looking to me.

"I don't mind. You have my permission to put your hands down my pants whenever the mood strikes you." Truth.

I played it off as a joke, but my heartbeat picked up and my mouth went dry. I was playing with fire, my own jab coming back to bite me in the ass. Speaking of biting someone's ass, my eyes flicked to the man holding me upright and I barely resisted the urge to pant. Man, I needed a cold shower or a lobotomy. I had more hormones raging inside me right now than a teenage boy, and having Daryl this close was only making it worse or better. It was hard to tell.

Daryl didn't dignify my joke with a response. He was clearly more mature than me. Either that or I broke him. By the time we made it to camp I was too tired to joke. I may have been dressed like Lara Croft, but right now I was about as badass as Mr. Rogers. Slumping down on the ground I leaned against a tree, closing my eyes. I felt Daryl nudge my leg with his boot and looked up.

"Here."

He handed me a water bottle and two pain pills. Under normal circumstances I'd refuse if only to keep him from getting spoiled, but I felt like crap. I didn't have the energy to argue as I popped the pills and washed them down, closing my eyes. Without a word he set the bottle down beside me and walked into the woods, crossbow in his hands. He would hunt for a while then most likely take a guard shift or twelve during the night.

When I woke up it was pitch black and instead of leaning against a tree I was lying flat on the ground, a sleeping bag tucked snugly around me, and fresh bandages on my shoulder. The flames of the fire were dying down, everyone else asleep except T who sat a few feet away keeping watch. Looking around I saw Daryl lying beside me, close enough to provide extra warmth, but far enough away to maintain propriety.

As if sensing my eyes on him he woke up, blinking several times. "Ya good?"

"Yeah."

He nodded, closing his eyes again. Glancing at him I noticed he didn't have a sleeping bag or blanket, in fact, the one I was wrapped in like a burrito was his. I pulled at one side, yanking it out from under my body as I scooted closer to him, and gently covered him. His eyes snapped open, hand reaching for his crossbow. I snorted, only Daryl would perceive sharing a blanket as a threat to his safety.

"Calm down, I don't bite," I whispered, careful to not wake anyone. "Unless that turns you on."

"Stop."

His words held no venom. Clearly he was too tired to work up any real annoyance. What was more surprising was he didn't move away as I scooted closer, didn't flinch or pull back. If anything he closed the distance. Our bodies were so close I could feel his breath against my face, the heat from his body warming the sleeping bag like a furnace. The man's internal temperature ran somewhere between Hell and surface of the sun, but I wasn't complaining because I was always cold.

A contended sigh escaped my lips as my eyes grew heavy. Laying there next to Daryl a comfort unlike any I'd ever experienced washed over me. When I was with him I felt different, like the best version of myself, and I wasn't sure what to do with that information. He was my safe haven in a world that had literally gone to shit, but he was hard to read and even harder to get close to. I knew he cared about my safety, but that wasn't unique to just me. Daryl cared about everyone's safety.

He was a sheepdog. He lived to protect the flock from wolves. Maybe I was just one of the sheep he felt compelled to protect, and nothing more. My brain hurt thinking about it. It was an annoying habit I always had, thinking too much, feeling more than I should. It burned me in the past and I was afraid it would happen again.

I started to roll over, create a little distance even in our close proximity, but his large hand stopped me. He didn't move otherwise, didn't open his eyes. He simply took his hand in mine and pulled me to him, my head resting in the crook of his neck as he flung an arm across my body.

They say you see a person's true colors when you are no longer beneficial to their life. I think that night lying curled in his arms I saw Daryl's. For the first time since we tried to kill each other over a deer I was the weak link in the group, offering nothing but increased odds of death, but he pulled me closer when he could have pushed me away. He was a man of few words, he let his actions do the talking and right now he was screaming from a bullhorn. I couldn't help the stupid smile that spread across my face as I burrowed into him.

"Goodnight Daryl."

"G'night Alex."

I'm so glad you guys want this story to continue past the prison 'cause I do too!

Posting a little early, hope you all enjoy. Let me know what you think!