A/N: Here's Chapter 25. It's set during Season 2, Episode 6 - Secrets. Daryl had one scene in the entire episode. So, this is how I interpreted his day might have went. It's simple, and sweet, and I hope that you enjoy.

It's the calm before the storm, because the next chapter is "Pretty Much Dead Already", which we all recognize the meaning behind. Review! I'm in a writing mood...the more reviews, the more chapters will be posted...and quicker.

Chapter 25: Fix You

The morning didn't wake me, as it normally did. When I awakened, it wasn't to the sun beating away at my eyelids. It was to the humming in my head that said it was fed up with my sleeping. It was fed up with my laziness. My eyes fluttered open, struggling to part, as the long sleep had glued them shut.

Daryl hadn't moved an inch, the entire night. He still lay, mouth slightly agape, sleeping like a baby. I lifted a hand from the mattress between us, and held it over his mouth, checking for the shallow breath that it found. I sighed in relief a bit, moving the hand down to his knuckles. The swelling seemed to have gone down, and they flexed beneath my touch.

I glanced over his arm, out the window, and noticed that it was early afternoon. I couldn't see the sun, and people were hustling and bustling about, as if they were hurrying to get things done, before they lost daylight. I sighed, feeling a bit guilty for my sudden lazy spell. There was just something about having a bed, and having almost lost Daryl. I could barely force myself to leave…

A soft groan left Daryl's mouth, and he closed it, smacking his lips a few times at the foul taste of morning. I smirked, watching him stir awake. No sooner had he stirred, was he bolting from the mattress. He too noticed the time, but the loud and broken gasp that left his lips told me that he wouldn't be able to do much about it. He grabbed his side, closing his eyes tightly, and took a few deep breaths. With every breath came a painful groan, until the pain began to calm. He glanced over to me with narrowed eyes, and I gave a warm smile.

"Good morning.", I said simply, pushing myself to a sitting position. He was a bit more bruised than earlier, and his scars almost blended in with the black and blue of his back. I felt even worse than before, and now I dreaded seeing Rick. I dreaded the anger that would surely flow from my lips, as soon as he asked what was wrong.

"Mm…", Daryl grunted, flexing his arms a bit. It was then that I remembered his medication. I closed my eyes and sighed in shame, reaching behind me. I picked up the pill, holding it out to him, "…Nah. I don't wanna be loopy all damn day."

"Dare…You were supposed to take it at midnight.", I protested. He scoffed, standing from the bed with a small stagger.

"I slept fine without it. I'll work fine without it."

"No. No work…", I demanded, standing from the bed, myself. I pocketed the pill, still clad in my jeans and tshirt, "You're going to rest, today, if I have to break your legs…"

Another scoff left his lips, as he picked up a clean shirt from the dresser. Carol. She was too good to us. I turned my eyes to a similar pile of brand new clothing for me, and smirked a bit. My attention turned back to him, almost immediately.

"Don't you shrug me off, Dixon."

Hearing his last name, he stopped, and looked me in the eyes. He expected me to complain, but not for me to be this persistent.

"What do you want me to do?", he asked, looking for guidance. Rest wasn't in his vocabulary. Injured wasn't in his vocabulary. Never in his life had he been able to just…rest.

"I want you to come back to bed and rest. I'll go and fetch you some breakfast…"

"Nah. I don't wanna be in here. Ain't no sense in takin' up a bed.", he mumbled, buttoning the last two buttons of his shirt. He picked up his jeans, slipping them over his legs.

"Okay, fine. How about you go and lie down in the tent? I'll get you some food. You lie there. We'll…we'll find something to do. I'm sure there's a board game around here to play. Anything…", I pleaded with him. He stopped, holding his jacket in his hand, and stared at my face. For a second, there was no reading his expression as he watched my own; "If you never do anything for me in your life…do this. Please, Dare."

"Why you so worried about it?", he asked, chewing his lip. I sighed, and shook my head, turning my eyes to the ground.

"You have no idea how close you came to being killed. You're obviously hurt. You are allowed to be handicapped…just for a day. You are allowed to let someone take care of you."

He thought it over, bringing a hand up to chew the skin from his thumb. After deliberating, he finally nodded, looking at the ground.

"Alright.", he whispered reluctantly. A wide smile spread across my face, "But I don't want none of them comin' to my rescue. If I'm laid up…Yer idea, yer problem…"

"Deal.", I agreed, shedding my pants. We finished dressing, gathered our clothes, and headed out to the camp. Even though he was reluctant to do so, Daryl was letting me take care of him. It was one less worry for the group. It was one less worry for my mind…

Daryl carefully ducked into his tent. He avoided any sudden movements to the best of his ability, to keep his hisses and complaints down. Otherwise, Shan would be shoving pills down his throat, left and right. Being who he was, he would rather the pills be saved, in case someone else in the group was injured. So, he turned, and carefully lay down, folding his pillow over to prop his head up. This was foreign. Lying in bed in the middle of the day just didn't seem right, when there was watch to be had. There was work to be done. There was a little girl to find.

"I'm going to fetch breakfast.", Shan said simply, tossing her clothes into the corner of the tent. She didn't enter, but crossed her arms and walked away. Daryl hated that she felt the need to take care of him. He could walk. He could raise his arms a bit; aside from the dry stitches pulling every time he did so. That meant he could work. If nothing else, he could bathe the horses. He sighed, staring out the mesh window of his tent.

Before long, Shan returned, her boots padding softly across the grass as she approached. She ducked into the tent, taking her usual seat atop his ankles and handed him a plate of eggs and chicken breast. His stomach growled and his mouth watered at the sight in front of him. He sat up a little straighter dragging her along with him, and began scarfing the food down.

"Y'aint gonna eat?", he mumbled through a full mouth.

"I had a couple of cut up peaches in the house. I wasn't really in the mood for Chicken, after havin' it for dinner."

"Better than squirrel…", Daryl admitted, his eyebrows raised in amusement as he waited for her to agree. She smiled a bit and shrugged her shoulders.

"I guess you have a point…", she said softly, taking a piece of egg from his plate, "Overall, how are you feeling?"

Daryl stopped eating for a second, looking down at the plate. He had been asked that question more in the past two days than he had been asked in his entire life. It wasn't commonplace around his home, even after he left his dad, to hear any sort of sympathy. You sucked it up. You moved on.

"Sore, bored…"

"You just woke up. You can't be bored yet…I remember when you would have killed for a day in bed…", Shan said with a smirk.

"A day when yer parents were out of town, maybe. That's a little different than this…"

They both laughed a bit, and Daryl allowed his laugh to taper off into a frown, as he picked through the scrambled eggs, slowly throwing them into his mouth. He missed the farm, now more than ever. He missed the crawling through windows; the stupid tick filled rendezvous under the stars, the muddy water…the nasty tea…

He pushed the plate away, suddenly feeling the need to lie down. Shan eyed him, taking the plate. She reached outside the door and set it down for Carol to grab on her way by, and then turned back to him, running her hands up his legs. He closed his eyes and sighed, lying back against the hard ground.

"What're you thinkin' about?", she whispered, her hands moving back down toward his ankles, before making their way to the tops again. The movement was soothing, and Daryl opened his eyes, staring at the roof of he tent.

"Nothin' important.", he said simply, stopping Shan in her tracks. She was onto him. She knew his mannerisms, his quirks. She knew he was lying, "Just thinkin' about when this shit started…I ran for the hills. Shoulda stayed back. Shoulda helped.."

"Shoulda, coulda, woulda…", Shan interrupted, moving to unlace his boots, "You can't think about that. No one was prepared for it. Everyone lost people, Dare."

"It ain't just yer parents…You…What happened in Atlanta?", he asked, finally. He had wanted to ask the question for weeks, after seeing her so banged up. He had wanted to know who he was wishing death on, who he would kill, if he found them.

"You sure that's something we should discuss, right now?"

"I don't see no better time…It's gonna hurt either way.", he answered, glancing down to her. As she fiddled with his boots, pulling them off his feet, she seemed to prepare herself for the story. So, he followed suit, mentally preparing himself for what she was about to tell him.

I lowered my eyes, taking deep breaths, as if it would calm my nerves. I wasn't nervous to tell Daryl any secrets. I was only nervous at how my own mind would react to admitting what had happened was real. Up until this point, it was easy to write it off as some fictional occurrence that my brain had made up to one-up the apocalypse. Truth was, Atlanta was a million times worse than anything we had seen.

"Um…", I whispered, my voice shaky as the memories began to flood my brain. My hands shook as I traced the outline of a deep scar that ran across Daryl's ankle, "I left the farm with Riot…and we were attacked inside of Atlanta. I don't know if we were attacked just because we ran…or if we were taken down for the sheer fact that I was a woman. Either way…they killed him, took me, and stole my stuff. They said they knew you from the motorcycle shop."

The words spilled from my mouth quickly, as if they were running from my internal thoughts that wanted to hold them back. Daryl tensed at the idea that he knew the men, and leaned up on his elbows to listen, as I continued.

"I don't know where they took me…but I counted the days off on the wall. Every day, the same time…one at a time; they would come in…", I broke off, glancing briefly to Daryl's face. His eyes were on fire, just as I suspected they would be. I didn't want to continue. I wanted him to let it go. He knew what had happened…

"And they…", he whispered for confirmation. I nodded, fighting back the tears that stung my lower lids, and began spilling over, hitting his boots with a deafening 'splat'. He shifted, gasping a bit at the sudden movement, and pulled his legs from me, into a comfortable sitting position, "How'd you get away?"

"I don't wanna talk about it.", I whispered, now picking at the random blades of grass that we had tracked into the

"But you got to. You gotta let this shit go. I see it on your back every day. Back at the CDC…you were a shell. You were...I ain't one for all this…but…dammit you need to…"

"I killed them all…", I interrupted with a nod.

"Wha'?"

"I killed them. I killed every damn one of them in that house…ran into the street…found Glenn. That's how I got out.", I said quickly, my chest rising and falling heavily, "One guy attacked me…I-I took a plastic fork…"

Daryl's face was contorted into an expression I had never seen before, as he picked up my hand. He looked it over as if he couldn't believe that it could commit to such things as killing humans. He sighed, and I continued.

"I stabbed him in the eye. He wasn't dead. He rolled around on the ground, carryin' on…I stomped him.", I looked up to his face, as his movements stopped, "I kept thinking about getting out, after that. My feet moved faster than my brain…I stabbed a guy…shot the other in the face…"

I wrapped it up in a nice little package, letting out the breath I was holding in. There. It was out. I was blunt with him. If he needed time to settle in, I would give it to him.

"If I had've…"

"None of that. I don't wanna hear it. I don't want what ifs and pity for it. It's over. I'm stronger 'cause of it…You wanted to know.", I said quickly, wiping my face.

"Strong from bein' raped?"

I winced at the word, sharply turning my head to him. I hadn't put it into words, like that and they cut me like a knife. I gathered myself, and began to stand. The hand wrapped around my wrist startled me a bit, and I turned, glaring down at Daryl's pleading face.

"Don't leave like that…", he whispered. His eyes were softened, and his clean face begged me to stay. It was my idea to have him stay inside. Leaving him would be a rash decision that he would likely hold over my head later on. I sighed, folding my arms over my chest as he let me go, "I'm sorry. I think I get it, why you're just…ignoring it. It's over…"

"And I want it left alone. I'm healed up. I'm fine. You need to worry about yourself.", I continued, still standing. He nodded, his hardened features returning to normal.

"C'mere…", he whispered, checking to make sure that the screens on all sides of the tent were covered. He slowly lowered himself onto the bedding, stretching one of his bruised arms out beside him. I smiled, taking the hint, and followed suit, lying against his arm, "I gotcha…"

As we lay there, the afternoon wore on. We didn't talk much, simply enjoying the relaxation we were allowed, for a change. I found myself daydreaming back to the farm, to the days of sneaking around. It felt real similar, at this moment, with Daryl being so nervous. He didn't want people knowing his business. He didn't want anyone asking him questions. He told what he wanted known. All the rest was behind closed doors for a reason.

"Dare?", I asked, making sure he was still awake. The time was dragging by, but it was dark outside of the tent. He grunted, signalling that he heard me, and I smiled, "Thanks for being here…"

"Ain't I always been?", he asked, bringing his hand up to pull my bangs away from my forehead. I shrugged, causing him to break news to me, "I'm gonna go out tomorrow…"

"Dare…"

"Don't 'Dare' me. I'll be alright. I'm not lyin' around anymore…", he explained. I couldn't really say anything. It wasn't in his nature to have days like today.

"Do I have to ask you to be safe?", I asked him, eliciting a scoff, "Didn't think so…"

"Shan…", I heard from outside of the tent. The silhouette was familiar and I sighed, patting Daryl's chest as I sat up. I unzipped the tent, peeking out from around the small bit of canvas. Rick's hands were on his hips, signalling that he was expecting me to stand and talk. I sighed again, crawling from the tent, barefoot. I stood, wiping my hands, and quickly crossed my arms across my body, "How's he doin'?"

"He's sore, but he's doing good. He's planning to hunt, tomorrow.", I answered simply, not meeting Rick's eyes.

"How're you doin'?"

"I'm fine. I'm…absolutely fine. Daryl's okay. He's my only worry. Is that all you wanted?", I internally winced at my own attitude, mirroring Rick's external one.

"Yeah…Yeah. That's all I wanted…", Rick sighed, kicking some of the dirt under his boots, "Actually…no. I wanted to tell you that I'm not sorry…"

"What?", I asked, narrowing my eyes.

"I'm not sorry for holding you back, yesterday. You would have gotten yourself killed out there. I'm not sorry for preventing that. You mean a lot to me…To the group."

I watched his eyes, scoffing a bit, "And Daryl? What's he…your henchman? He does what you say, and if he dies…he's just collateral damage?"

"What? How could you say something like that?", Rick asked incredulously.

"Because that's how it feels from this end, Rick! Don't you see how hard he's trying to be good? Do you have any idea the kind of pressure he puts on himself…to be your perfect little soldier? He has a hole in his side…and he wants to go out tomorrow and look for Sophia. He wants to ride another horse…go out in the same woods and look for her. I feel like he's expendable to you guys, like Merle was."

"Merle was a liability. He was a danger to the entire group. I did what had to be done…", Rick retorted, "Daryl's earned his place here. He means more to the group than you could imagine…"

"Then act like it! Act like he means something. Show him…he means something. I know he doesn't know how to accept thanks. He doesn't understand feelings, but dammit, he needs that acceptance. He needs to know…whether he tells you he does, or not…", I whispered urgently, "Yesterday…I almost lost my entire existence with one bullet. I'll kill Andrea if she treads too far. I'll slit her throat. She wouldn't be the first…"

Rick's face contorted a bit, and he looked down at the ground, "I apologize for what you're going through. I apologize for the pain that Daryl is in, and the pain that I see in your eyes, right now. You make sure he doesn't pull away from us, and I'll make sure he's taken care of."

I sighed, accepting his kindness, "I can't help how I feel about…"

"Lori's pregnant…", Rick said quickly, diverting his eyes from me. He shifted to his other foot, bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, "She also told me that…she and Shane…"

My stomach dropped at what he was hinting to, and I stepped forward, not meeting his eyes. I was still angry. My feelings hadn't changed, but I felt legitimately horrible for him. Without him moving; Without him taking his hand from his face, I wrapped my arms around his waist, and sighed. His chin met the top of my head, and he let out his own ragged sigh as the tears overwhelmed his eyes.

"It's going to be okay…", I whispered, rubbing his back soothingly, "I promise it will be okay…"