Disclaimer: I sadly do not own The Walking Dead.
Spoilers: References to Season 1 and 2.
Warning: Rated for themes, language, and violence.


Packages in Zombie Zone, Area S - 28

Daryl ended up using a whole case, firing whenever a walker got too close. Rick, to attract the walkers, turned on the alarm system. It didn't work at first, drawing confusion from both men and the cops watching. Shane yelled from a window in Building Two, asking why the plan wasn't working. And then Daryl realized the damn sonic thing actually made a difference. He fiddled with the tool, flicking switches left and right until the light at the top finally turned off.

They drew at least thirty walkers away, leading them down the empty streets of the Borderlands, driving toward the Burbs. Rick drove slowly, to keep them just behind the car, but not slow enough for them to grab hold. After bringing the horde at a distance that seemed good enough, Rick stepped on the gas, drove circles around them, and zoomed off, driving back to the Domino Block.

When they arrived, Rick quickly tweaked with the wires under the dashboard, turning the alarm off. Daryl leaned out the window, aimed with his bow, and shot the closest walker in the head. With a large splat, the bolt penetrated the soggy flesh, jutting out at the other end. Daryl half-smiled when he heard the familiar crunch and splatter of decayed brains.

He quickly loaded his bow and shot another ambling figure. From somewhere behind him, Daryl heard Rick grunt loudly. Daryl called out, asking if Rick was okay, receiving a few half-assed reassurances. They quickly settled into a routine, fighting back to back when walkers came too close, with Daryl aiming for the fast ones, Rick handling the slower ones up close.

A symphony of bangs echoed in the alleys between the buildings as they fought their way overtop the fallen small mesh fence. Walker after walker fell, in the inner areas of the Block. Shane, still perched in the same spot they left him, was barking orders at another sniper, who was in another building. Daryl wasn't sure whether to scoff or smirk when he saw the person giving Shane a run for his money: Andrea.

He ended up smirking when he realized that Andrea was shouting out her kill count, which was slowly rising with each fallen corpse. Shane yelled for her to conserve her ammo, but she replied that she wasn't wasting anything. Daryl almost froze when he saw the shadow behind Andrea. He was about to call out to her, to warn her, when it turned out to be the old man. Daryl waved, receiving one back.

At one point, when the crowd thinned out, Andrea and Shane both joined them on the ground, slaying walkers without their guns. Half the time, Rick wanted to do something while Shane grumbled about it, mumbling that his plan was better. It was nearly sundown when most of the corpses were on the ground.

One of the newer cops barked out orders, shouting for the militia to come help. Six able-bodied men and four women came by. They divided into pairs and began lugging the bodies into one large pile outside the fallen fence. Someone poured a can of kerosene on the bodies before lighting the pile on fire. The stench of burning flesh filled the air. A bonfire of the dead.

Daryl flinched when he saw the hand come his way. "We stand guard," Rick said, clasping Daryl on the shoulder. To which, Daryl nodded shakily.

He moved far apart from Rick, standing alongside the fallen fence. Rick stood to his right, staring at Shane, who stood at another corner of the fence. Andrea waited by his left, finger itching on the trigger. The rest of the perimeter seemed to be watched by both cops and civilians.

Groans filled the air as darkness covered the sky, from aching bodies complaining of tiredness. Someone snapped at them, one of the cops perhaps, claiming that they needed to do their part. The cops had pulled together to slay all the outside walkers, so it was only fair that the rest of the civilians cleared out the land before they moved in. Andrea shot Daryl an amused look. Daryl shrugged.

When Rick began to pace around his area, Daryl saw that it was fit for him to do so as well. He ended up moving closer to Andrea, whispering when no one was around, "Dale alright?"

"Yeah," Andrea shook her head, sighing. "He's fine. Stupid, but fine." She marched, looking outward from the Block. "Just glad that we can easily blend in. They're letting us keep our apartment."

"See my brother?"

"Last I saw him he was cuffed to a bed," she said under her breath. "High off his rocker."

"Any idea who locked him up?"

"Yeah," Andrea nodded, quickly moving away from Daryl. In his peripherals, he saw Shane looking their way. "Mr. Sourwolf over there."


When all of the bodies were in the large pile, Rick and Shane divided themselves among the cops and civilians to scout the buildings, to see if anyone turned while inside. Daryl gruffly demanded that he lead one of the groups himself. Shane gave him a dirty look but Rick said that was fine.

Daryl led a ragtag group to his building, an amateur cop that was hired after Atlanta and its surrounding counties became Area S, a small but spry woman, and a small man with a lisp. Their weapons respectively: a semi-automatic handgun and a butcher knife, a rake, and brass knuckles and a machete. He sighed, telling them how he wanted things done. He ended his speech with, "Stick together, don't do shit on your own."

The first floor seemed to be clear. Moving down the hallway, he snaked his way over the fallen furniture to peek into each room. Since he had his bow, he partnered with the man with the lisp. The machete would be a good weapon up close. He sent the cop and the woman to the next room, pointing out that the cop should stand to the side with his blade for backup and that the woman could use her rake to stab them from a safe distance.

Daryl swept around the landlord's apartment, eyeing a few unopened cans that he would take later. There were no bodies there, dead or alive. He sighed and marched out, the man with the lisp behind him. From the next room over, the woman squealed in joy, claiming that she killed a walker. They moved onto the other two rooms. Daryl killed a walker there. The man with the lisp killed two with his machete.

As they marched up the stairs, the cop and the woman engaged in small talk. Daryl gritted his teeth, hushing them for the third time. Immediately, Daryl said that Room 201 was to be avoided. With luck, Merle was still there and still alive. He sent the chatty pair down to Carol's apartment while he scouted his own with the man with the lisp. There were drops of blood in the hallway, staining the walls and shoddy floors, so he told them to be on guard.

He was in the middle of checking how much of his secret stash in the hole in the wall was left when the man called out from Merle's room, "You look like you know this place."

"Mm," Daryl muttered. "It was mine."

"From before?" the man asked.

Daryl wasn't sure whether he meant from before the walkers or before the Block was taken over. But it didn't matter to him, so he said, "Yeah."

Before the man could finish checking under Merle's bed, Daryl rushed into his room. He shook his head at the stupid ass window that was always broken, the horrible mattress, and the pair of panties under the bed. He stood with his arms crossed, eyeing the mess with fondness on his face.

"It would be nice," the man said, probably eyeing the springy couch in disugst. "To have a place like this. We've always wanted one."

Daryl walked out of his room to find the man on a stool. "We?"

"We." That's when Daryl recognized him. The taller half of the gay couple nearby Rick's all those days ago.

The man was in the middle of some speech about raising his family with love and mush or something when Daryl interrupted, "Let's get a move on."

They took so long in there, that the cop and the woman took the initiative to check the last room in the hall, the one that belonged to Glenn's friend, Jim. So they continued upwards, checking the other rooms. They found residents, some who hid in their rooms while Clears scavenged their rooms. They found walkers and the cop almost got bit. But the man with the lisp knocked it over with his fist before slicing into its skull.

When they finished, Daryl thanked them for their efforts, telling them to move to another building. The cop saluted Daryl, stating his appreciation before running off with the woman to another building. The man with the lisp waved as he walked away.

Daryl took the opportunity to run back into the building. He took the stairs two at a time, lunging forward and upward. He grasped the knob of Room 201 and opened the door. There were drops of blood leading to the bedroom. "Merle!" he yelled. When he received no response, he moved faster, thinking the worst, running over the red splotches to find his brother lying on the ground in one piece, snoring silently with powder under his nose. Daryl sighed in relief and leaned back onto a wall. Panting heavily, he tipped his head back, suppressing a laugh, and then slid down the wall.

Everything, for once, was all right.


Daryl groaned when the broom he nicked from Room 201 fell over again. He was in the middle of tidying his room when he heard it black on the kitchen floor. With a resigned sigh, Daryl made his way into the kitchen where he avoided looking at the empty cupboards. He was cleaned out. Although he was unsure whether Carol or the Clears took the rest of his food. Brushing his worry aside, Daryl reminded himself that there were a few cans in his bag and Glenn probably had a few too. Glenn was going to arrive at any time now, to hopefully a clean apartment.

So he pressed on the couch's springs with his boots, trying to force them back down, to no avail. He groaned and focused on the rest of the things in the room. He picked up the upturned furniture, placing them back not where they were before his apartment was invaded, but where he thought they would look best. He sorted through Merle's room, shaking his head at the secret stash of drugs he found in the mattress. He finished every room, and then returned to his, fixing the sheets and propping the window closed with a broken table's leg.

Daryl sat on the bed, tired, exhausted, worn out, ready to fall asleep. But he willed himself to stay awake. So he did, waiting for Glenn to return. But he didn't hear that familiar knock all night. When he woke in the morning, he realized Glenn never came back.


Daryl closed the door behind him. He turned to lock it but remembered that his key was in his bag—which Glenn had. Grumbling to himself, Daryl turned to head down the stairs, only to be cut off by a greeting. Carol waved from her door, smiling brightly. She invited him in but he declined, which made her walk toward him, grasp his arm, and insist that he stayed for breakfast. When Sophia poked her head out the door, he sighed and let himself be dragged into their apartment.

Carl was there too, laughing, smiling. He sat on the floor, in front of a coffee table, across from his mother on the couch, who appeared to be at a loss on whether she should be laughing or scolding. Sophia led Carol to the table and sat beside Carl on the ground. Carol sat beside Lori, sinking into her leather couch—which seemed much better than his.

With crossed arms, Daryl stood awkwardly at the front door. He clenched his arms tighter when they realized he was still there. They coaxed him with gestures of come here, and join us. They were smiling at him. They were smiling.

Daryl froze when he felt a hand clasp his shoulder. Turning his head, he saw that it was Rick, smiling at him as well. The cop, with an open warm, gestured for him to join them.

Daryl did.


Daryl mostly sat there, cross-legged, staring into his lap. He looked up every so often whenever Rick cracked a joke or when Lori whined about something. Carl and Sophia spent the time giggling with one another or whining whenever one of their parents told an embarrassing story about them.

He was almost thankful when Shane showed up and plopped himself onto one of Carol's stools. The conversations continued, but he didn't think that Carol noticed the change. Rick continued chattering happily, but Lori would often speak with short sentences and gave off forced laughs. It was then, he remembered that he had given Lori a pregnancy test. She didn't seem to be showing, but from the way she touched her stomach often, Daryl knew.

They shared a large breakfast. Rick had received a ton of donations in the form of canned and preserved foods from the Clears earlier this morning, in thanks for seizing the Domino Block. Daryl asked how Rick thought of this plan. But Rick denied it, giving praise to Shane for formulating the idea in his head. Shane took a swig of whiskey and passed it to Rick, telling him that he knew he was right, that he deserved credit for keeping his people safe. That Zoners were paying the price for not being courteous to share their apartments.

Hungry for more, Daryl reached for another can when the front door slammed open. Glenn appeared, ragged, out of breath. There was blood smeared across his face, his hands. His shirt was covered in splatters of red, his jeans dyed darker. He smelled of death. His face was full of worry. Within seconds, Daryl found himself in front of Glenn, asking what happened.

Glenn didn't answer. Well, he did, but with a question of his own. "Where's Andrea?"


Daryl stood outside in the hallway, trying to listen to Glenn's mumbling from the other side of the door. Glenn was inside with Andrea and Dale. When Daryl heard her begin to sob, he knew Glenn broke the news. She screamed, "No!" She sobbed, "Amy!"

Daryl waited, arms crossed for Glenn to come out the door. Eventually, the loud wails died down, turning into sniffles that Daryl could barely hear. It felt like hours passed before Glenn emerged.

Glenn's eyes were red, his face covered in trails of salt. Glenn wiped his face once more before he propelled himself, wrapping his arms around Daryl. Daryl stood there, unsure of where to put his hands, and patted Glenn on the shoulder.


Glenn immediately walked toward Daryl's couch, ignoring the gestures to go to the bedroom. He was in the middle of some explanation, that there were a bunch of walkers, and that he saw another runner who worked from another underboss nearby, just before Amy was bit. Sighing, he sat down on the hand rest. "I have to do this. I need to know. I have to go."

Daryl was fiddling with his bag silently. He pulled out the sonic and turned it back on. "Why?"

"Because. If they wanted to kill me—"

"Still on that?" Daryl interrupted, with crossed arms.

"I'm taking this," Glenn said, grabbing the sonic out of Daryl's hands. "I'll need it more than you."

"Oh." Daryl scratched the back of his head. "New run?" Glenn nodded. "Need backup?"

"No, you're staying put," Glenn said determinedly. There was a look on his face, one with a slight tinge of desperation, of fear. "You have to stay here."

"What? Why?" Daryl snarled. Daryl shook his head in disbelief. He closed his eyes, telling himself that this couldn't be happening again. But he remembered how crafty Glenn was, how he could handle is own out there. Daryl reassured himself with false hopes. "When you get bit, don't you come runnin' back to me, tail between your legs," Daryl mumbled.

"I'll come back," Glenn reassured him. "I promise." Glenn was about to turn to go but he stopped and stared Daryl down determinedly. "I'd never live with myself if I never did this."

"Did what?"

"I need to tell you something," Glenn said quickly. "Just in case."

"In case wha—?"

"You know, there are things that make you fight to come back," Glenn said, smiling at the ground. "Could be an object. A place. A person." When Glenn looked up, Daryl shot his eyes downward, bracing himself for the kid's sudden departure. Suddenly, Daryl was pulled into a tight embrace. He froze, stunned, his hands unsure of where to go but thankfully holding something soft in his hands, squeezed in between his and Glenn's chests. When Glenn turned, Daryl expected his eye to be poked by the brim of the kid's hat. But he wasn't. And just as quickly as it came, the warmth vanished. Daryl didn't look up, but when he felt the breath on his neck, he realized Glenn didn't leave. He felt something be pressed into his palm and his fingers curled around it. "I'm coming back for it, just so you know."

Glenn was gone by the time Daryl looked up. He turned his head and stared toward the Old City, watching the small shadow fade in the distance, with something clenched tightly in his hand. He snorted when he realized what it was—Glenn's silly red hat.