Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead.

A/N: Happy holidays everyone! Thanks for the great reviews, keep them coming! I'm not above holding my story hostage!


Gimme Danger

Chapter 29: Ain't Killed Me Yet


Fate must really fucking love him.

Daryl didn't know how, didn't know if it was this guy Rick, or if someone just thought he deserved some favors, but they got him. They got the Asian kid back safe and sound, down half their weapons and ammunition, but the kid was all right. In one piece. Alive.

Hard to believe, in a world like this.

And so was Merle. The second he saw that missing truck they'd left in a safe spot to come back to, he knew. Merle was the one who'd stolen it. That was Merle's getaway vehicle, and Daryl just hoped they made it back to camp before Merle found the people they'd left behind. Because things were likely to get real ugly real fast without Daryl there to mediate the situation.

The hunter kept walking at his brisk pace. It was getting dark, and here they were, stuck between the city and the camp with no vehicle, out in the open here. All they needed was for a group of those things to come strolling by, then there would really be trouble.

But everyone was focused, just wanting to get to camp as fast as they could. They weren't very far, another fifteen minutes worth of a walk probably, Rick leading the way. Each man was armed and ready, walking in single file, eyes aware of every lat bat or bird that flew overhead.

Nothing would sneak up on them.

Daryl could tell something about the Chinaman had changed. Whatever he'd experienced today before they'd shown up to save him, or maybe some of the stuff after, it had changed him, either way.

Probably because, this was the first time he'd realized that, even though those particular men had turned out to be maintaining an abandoned old folks home, not all people they encountered would be so noble. No. They were going to encounter fiends, thieves, murderers. And there was nothing they could do about it. That was the world today. Trust your blood, or trust no one.

Well, maybe the stacked blonde.

Merle wouldn't quite agree with that, but Daryl, while he didn't trust her with his life or anything, definitely… trusted her a little. He trusted Roxy to… back him up, most of the time. She was usually on his side. And he trusted her to make everything not seem so bad. And he most definitely trusted her to fulfill his needs.

What Daryl was trying to accept, was the fact that he cared just a little more than he actually meant to. He'd taken her on as his problem some time between the day he met her and now. Wasn't quite sure when he started realizing it either. Or worse yet, when he started to just let it happen and not even put up a fight anymore.

"So... um… hey…" Daryl kept on moving forward, not hesitating to skip a single step or even look to his side where the young Asian tried to keep his pace. "I wanted to say thanks man… and sorry. For being on your ass about Roxy."

Daryl almost stopped when he said that though. Almost.

But the darkness surrounding them reminded him why he didn't. "Yeah. Well… needed those guns," he quickly retorted, ending the conversation abruptly. They were so close. Almost there.

They could smell cooking, and Daryl wondered where they'd gotten food from. Food that needed to be cooked no less. He couldn't wait to get back and fill his empty belly with whatever it was; he just hoped Roxy had a hot plate waiting for him in his tent when he arrived. Or at least warm.

Daryl pulled a face at that thought. Jesus, what, was he coming home from a long day at work to his little tent wife now? This was all getting a little too strange for him…

The shock of the gunfire made them all freeze in their tracks, but only momentarily, before Rick began booking it in the direction of camp, weapon ready, Daryl, Glenn and T-Dog right behind him. They could hear screams and gunshots echoing all over the hills, but they knew where it must be coming from. There was no one else this close that they wouldn't have come across already. No.

Their camp was under attack, by walkers or, Daryl could assume after today's events, other survivors.

It was so dark already, but Rick didn't miss a beat, coming down the dirt road with the rest in tow, guns blazing, taking down walker after walker. The camp was overrun. There were undead everywhere, Shane, Dale, Jim and Morales had taken out a good chunk of them, but until Daryl and the others had shown up, things were looking grim.

They had definitely lost people. Daryl could see that even amidst all the chaos. Shane had rallied everyone up to the RV as best as he could, but there were bodies missing.

Smoothly, Daryl made his way around camp, taking down the ones near him. And that was when he finally saw her. She was alive, not like some of the others, and had a walker hot on her trail.

Thinking swiftly, Daryl took it down from the distance he was at, before he noticed two coming close to him he needed to deal with.

And when he turned back, she was already gone, nowhere in sight.

"Fuck!" Daryl swore, then got back to the task at hand. It was only a few stragglers left now. Most of the walkers had been taken out, but damn, were there a lot of them.

Once the immediate chaos had died down, and there didn't seem to be any mobile walkers around, once he was actually able to, Daryl stopped and looked.

His eyes scanned the perimeter of the campsite, looking for any sign of Roxy. She and a few others had been separated from Shane and the rest of the group trying to get near the RV, and all the other ones that had fallen behind were currently spread out all over the ground.

Daryl swallowed the lump of dread in his throat.

He'd just seen her; she'd been fine. But that was minutes ago now. And anything could have happened in those few minutes. Anything.

"See yer friend?" he asked Glenn, who only seemed to realize just now she was nowhere in sight. He'd been too busy watching Andrea mourn her fallen sister. Amy was dying, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

Glenn's eyes grew wide, and he darted off, calling her name. Daryl decided to have a look around in the opposite direction, closer to the trees, whereas Glenn had gone nearer to the water.

Daryl just hoped if he had to be the one to find her, she was still in one piece. He'd already lost his brother somewhere out in this fucked up world, he couldn't take another hit, not so soon at least.

It didn't take him long once he made it to the trees. He could hear her panicked sounds as she hid in some brush. "You bit?" he asked, dreading her reply as he caught sight of her messy blonde hair, splattered with mud, leaves… and God, that was blood!

He immediately stepped forward, seeing her front was almost solidly red, smeared with gore from the walker at her feet. Daryl used her shoulder to fully turn her and saw the little gun in her hand.

"I think I broke my nose," she whimpered before she erupted into sounds that made the hair on Daryl's neck stand up, and made him want to hold her so tight she'd stop crying. It was a frightening sight, blood and guts covering one of those white tank tops he enjoyed so much, matting her hair, pouring from her nose.

It wasn't something he ever wanted to see again.

Daryl could tell by the surroundings what had happened. Looked like the walker right here had its head blown off at point blank, which would probably explain why her nose was broken, and the blood was still gushing out of it. The kickback must've hit her right in the face.

Daryl was tempted to make a smart comment on how she should've been more focused when he was teaching her how to shoot, but something in his brain reminded him that it might not be a great time to bring that up, and instead he just took the gun from her, wiping it off with his shirt and quickly pocketing it before he led her into the direction of the survivors, trying his best to keep her away from the sounds of Andrea's distraught shouts, but it was pointless. They were chilling everyone to the bone already.

"Oh God," she managed to whine out, putting all the pieces together even though she couldn't see Amy's body for Andrea leaning over it. "Oh God, they got Amy," she sobbed out, Daryl clenching his jaw. He didn't know how to comfort her. There was nothing he could say that would make her feel any better. Words couldn't compensate for death.

Reaching out with one hand, he pulled her toward him by the back of her neck, letting her head settle against his clavicle, not caring that he now had a mixture of the blood from her nose and the blood from the walker she'd capped all over his shirt. He kept his hands steady, one gripping his crossbow still and the other nestled in her tangled, blood-splattered hair. It was the very best he could offer her, and he took a risk doing it in his opinion, no idea if it was really enough of a gesture or not.

He sure hoped so, cause he was fresh out of ideas if this didn't help.

When she stayed and wrapped her fists into his shirt he relaxed a bit, realizing he must've done the right thing. He just hoped they didn't have to stand here all night. He really wanted her to clean up and get that walker blood off her as soon as possible.

But he didn't want to push it either. He didn't know much about women, but he did know crying women were fragile. And needed to be treated delicately. Unless you wanted them to break, and inevitably put your bare foot right in the shards of glass. Which is one reason he'd kept far away in the first place.

But maybe he was starting to get this, at least a little bit anyway.

He was just relieved he hadn't lost her. Was this the kind of thing that was going to happen when he went out hunting? Couldn't trust anyone else to keep her safe obviously.

"Holy shit, you're okay!" Glenn huffed as he approached them, seeing Daryl had found who they'd been looking for. Roxy moved back from Daryl and faced Glenn, who flinched when he saw the blood soaking her. "Jesus, please tell me you're okay?"

He was practically begging, so worn out from the entire day. It had been so stressful, he was starting to think they would never catch a break.

"I'm fine. I just… I don't want to stay here anymore," she admitted, wanting to wipe her tears away, but looking down at her blood stained hands, decided not to. She didn't want to get anything in her eyes, even though they weren't positive if that would transfer the fever, she wasn't going to risk it.

Daryl noticed the sudden disgust on her face and took the opportunity to try and get her away from Andrea and Amy. It was a hard thing to watch, especially for Daryl, who'd been in the same situation earlier today when he'd discovered nothing but his brother's hand left behind on the roof of the department store. "C'mon, should go an' clean ya up."

Roxy let herself be pulled away from the horror scene, Glenn calling behind them. "I'll grab you some clothes," as they made their way down to the water. Daryl had her forearm gripped in one hand, and his crossbow still tight in the other. He was on edge for sure now, likely for the rest of the night. He wouldn't sleep, no way.

Daryl brought her over to a spot that gave her privacy and silently helped her pull her blood soaked shirt over her head. He picked up a white bucket that got left down there for laundry and washing up, filling it with water, while she pulled her legs from her jeans, leaning on a rock to push her sneakers off her feet. Daryl listened to her sniffle and sob as she tried to suppress an emotional breakdown.

He wasn't going anywhere. No way in hell was he leaving her alone for a second right now, not after what they'd just arrived to, but he really hoped she wouldn't start getting hysterical. Daryl was pretty sure they were already going to have to peel Andrea off her sister's body. They didn't need another one losing their shit.

Glenn looked white as a ghost when he met them down near the water's edge, Daryl keeping watch while Roxy tried to rid herself of the gore and grime she'd been covered in, using her hands to rub at her skin after scooping some of the night-chilled water from the bucket. She tried to rid herself of the completely violated feeling as well, but that wouldn't come off. They'd been ambushed in the camp, their one place of at least a little security. People that had just been sitting and laughing with them were dead now. Just as the chaotic feelings had started to fade away, they were harshly reminded not to ever feel a little too secure again.

"Here, I found some soap too." Glenn handed Daryl a rolled up towel containing a pair of cotton shorts and a tank top with a half used bar of soap and one of the clean washrags from the line. And a bottle of Roxy's shampoo, which Daryl enjoyed the smell of, having come to recognize it every time she'd wash up. There was only about a third of it left.

He'd miss it when it was gone.

Glenn steadied himself on a rock and sat down, hands braced on his knees, leaning forward looking as if he might puke, fingers scratching at the cloth of his jeans while his feet pushed into the soft dirt on the ground. He was stunned and felt sick to his stomach. So many had fallen in such a short amount of time. And listening to Andrea mourning Amy, sweet innocent Amy, and the kids all still crying in fear, trying to be quiet about it, but failing, was too much.

Daryl brought the things to Roxy, watching her shiver in her sports bra and boy shorts. The nights were getting cool, though the days were real hot mostly still. She looked so helpless and pathetic dripping wet, wringing her hair out from dumping the bucket over her head. The endless crying wasn't helping much either. Every time it sounded like she'd calmed down, it started up again.

He got the bucket again from her while she cleaned her hair and body as fast as she could, teeth chattering, and filled it with some more water before he brought it back to her. She dipped her hair in it, getting the minimal amount of shampoo she'd used out, before she dumped the remainder over her head. Daryl had picked up a large colored beach towel Glenn had brought over, wrapping it around her quivering body quickly.

Daryl had been checking her out while she dried off, not for sexual purposes; no, now was definitely not the right time for advances. He wanted to be sure he didn't see any bites, scratches, whatever on her skin while she was toweling off the sections of her body. Every time she dried off though,. She seemed to get wet again because of the water dripping from her hair. Daryl could see the frustration on her face.

"Everyone down here all right?" Rick asked as he made his way close to Daryl. He was doing a head count… or a body count, however you wanted to look at it.

Daryl gave him a sharp look, like he should respect their privacy and snapped out., "Fine."

Rick was n honorable man, and didn't cast his eyes in Roxy's direction at all, which eased Daryl a little, and Rick placed a solid hand of comfort on Glenn's shoulder, where he still sat having his own version of a panic attack on the nearby rock.

"How we set fer numbers?" Daryl finally questioned. It was obvious to him what Rick was doing down here. He was trying to figure out how many of their camp had survived this attack.

Rick sighed, hands moving to his hips while he shifted his weight to one foot. "We're lookin' at about… a third a the camp. Maybe more. 'S hard ta say right now."

Daryl looked down at the ground. Their numbers had dwindled that much in just seconds. He looked over his shoulder to where Roxy was, just checking on her. Thinking about the attack had made him paranoid for a second. "Shit," he muttered, kicking his foot in the dirt.

"Yeah, and Shane ain't too thrilled about it. I'm sure you can imagine. We left, so… we're responsible." The older man sighed again and pressed at his temples. "We gotta get outta here."

Daryl just nodded, agreeing. This camp wasn't safe. It was close to the city, and they were obviously leaving Atlanta now, where the food source had dried up. They would be coming this way, and if another hoard of them came through like that, the whole rest of the camp would be gone too.

It was time to move on for real this time; there was no other option.