So I just watched the season 3 premier and Oh My God I am so excited. One or two more chapters and I'll get this one caught up.

Thank you all for the reviews. I love getting every single one of them. I still haven't gotten over how cool it is that people read these and post their own for others to read. I wish I'd discovered fan fiction a long time ago.

Tara1227 & 452max: I'm glad you're enjoying the story. It's always exciting to see new people reading.

Nelle07: Yes he did. "In his own way." I think that pretty much sums up anything we can expect from Daryl.

Emberka-2012: I think Daryl is very smart. Much more so than anyone on the show gives him credit for.

Leyshla Gisel: Aww, thank you :) She does. Now she can move on.

Day-of-the-Dead-TattooGal: Thanks for your review :)

Alexandria104: Thank you so much for your kind words. They are. So close.

LivinJgrl123: Thanks!

Chapter 36: It's a Good Day

Darkness had fallen on the farm. The days were getting shorter and the nights were getting colder. Inside the tent, Daryl lay on his back, stretched out on his cot. His fingers were intertwined behind his head. One deep breath after another, he tried to clear his mind and find relief in sleep

After a long while his breathing slowed and his eyelids began to droop. Just as Daryl was about to doze off he was jolted back to wakefulness. Suddenly alert he reached for his crossbow while he listed for the sound that had roused him. The tent zipper. Slowly he exhaled his breath. Walkers didn't do zippers.

Next thing Daryl knew River was standing in the doorway and Liam's slobbery tongue was running across his face.

"Get ahold of yer mutt would ya?" Daryl growled. "Tryin' to sleep here."

River rolled her eyes and placed her hands on her hips. "He's not a mutt," she corrected him. "I think for that I'm going to let him continue to lick you until you either say you're sorry or have been licked to death," she threatened with a casualness that suggested she'd stand there all night.

From across the tent Daryl scowled at her. "I ain't sayin' sorry to no mutt."

River shrugged with a certain indifference. "Have it your way," she said nonchalantly. Meanwhile Liam continued his drooling assault on the redneck hunter. River laughed as she watched Daryl raise his hands in a feeble attempt to shield himself from the slime.

Ignoring the goings on across from her River busied herself fixing the other cot. "It's good to be out of that house," River commented casually. Like Daryl, she felt more at home sleeping under the trees.

There was a long pause. "Ya, suppose it is."

"C'mon Liam," River patted her leg, calling off the dog. "Bedtime." Liam got one last lick in before heeding his master's call and curling up at the foot of the cot.

"Thought ya was gonna let him lick me to death," Daryl smirked as he pointed out she hadn't made good on her threat.

River shrugged, a sly smile creeping onto her face. "Looked like you needed some help." Daryl was muttering and grumbling when River ducked over to his side of the tent. She planted a quick peck on his cheek before turning back to her side of the tent. "Goodnight, Daryl."

Again there was a long moment of silence between them. Finally Daryl spoke up. His voice was husky as he muttered back to her, "Night, River."

His words sounded awkward. Forced. It was, however, the first time he had ever said goodnight back to her, River realized. She smiled to herself as she climbed into her sleeping bag. It was a start.

When River woke she was in good spirits. It's going to be a good day, she thought to herself. The guilt that had been following her had subsided since Daryl took her out and forced her to deal with Jason's death. Somehow in his way he'd known exactly what she needed. No longer was she stuck in the house. Daryl was out and about again. All was well in River's world.

Once breakfast was over they'd go out and continue the search for Sophia. Before his injury Daryl had found the little girl's doll. Since then River felt more positive about the prospects of finding her alive. The sentiment didn't seem to be shared among the majority.

Out by the fire pit Lori was cooking breakfast. River walked towards the spot with her hands covering her eyes, sniffing deeply as she approached. "Let me guess," she beamed. "Squirrel?"

"Someone's in a good mood," Dale commented. The old man winked at River as she uncovered her eyes. There was a mischievous grin across his face.

The young woman smacked him playfully in the shoulder. "It's not like that, Dale," River protested.

Lori ignored what Dale was implying and turned to River as if nothing had been said. "How did you know it was squirrel? Really by the smell?"

River let out a hearty laugh. There was a white plastic bucket near the fire pit. Over its edge hung a small pile of squirrel pelts. She smiled at Lori and pointed to it. "Saw them from back near the tent," she explained.

As River settled in to sit and eat, the others from the group started to trickle in as well. Where there was food, people would inevitably gather. The mood continued to be light until Glenn showed up. Then everything seemed to change very quickly.

There was a tension between the young man and Dale that River didn't quite understand. Soon enough, however, she would. They all would. Dale continued to pressure him until he spilled the secret he'd been keeping.

"There's Walkers in the barn," Glenn told them reluctantly.

Five words, that's all it took for shit to hit the fan.

The obvious course of action to many was simple. Deal with it. If there's Walkers, take care of them. Kill them. River was no different. Those monstrosities had killed her friend, and she was out for blood. What moral objections Hershel may have had mattered as much to her as P.E.T.A.'s objections had mattered when hunting had been her only source of food. Some things were necessities, and in this new world if you didn't put down the dead they came back for you.

For Rick, however, things weren't so simple. At the best of times relations with Hershel were shaky. The man didn't even feel comfortable with them having firearms on his farm. With Carl barely recovered from his gunshot wound, Rick and Lori had the most to lose if they were kicked off the farm.

"This is Hershel's farm," Rick reminded everyone after confronting Hershel himself. "He believes those... things are still people. We have to respect his wishes." He was adamant on that last part. Under no circumstance were they to open up that barn and kill the Walkers residing within.

"Those things ain't people, Rick," Shane protested as he gestured wildly. "This is crazy man. We all know that."

No one was comfortable with the close proximity of the Walkers in the barn. No one wanted to be eating and sleeping a stone's throw away from the monsters. The mere realization that they had been all this time sent shivers up Lori's spine. Still her husband's argument seemed to have won over in the end. As much as no one wanted the Walkers there, they also didn't want to leave the farm. It was their safe haven, even if it wasn't as safe as they'd originally believed. It was still better than being on the road.

As the day progressed tensions rose to boiling point. For some the matter was a no-brainer and Hershel's wishes be damned, those Walkers had to go. Shane was ever ready to champion the issue.

When Rick returned later with Hershel leading a Walker to the barn it was the last straw. Unwilling to continue with the ridiculous facade, Shane pulled out his weapon. He raised it, pointing it at the Walker Hershel had leashed. Repeatedly he shot it in the chest. Shot after shot pierced the creatures rotting flesh yet still it stood. Still it walked. That thing wasn't human. Once he felt his point had been made, Shane shot the Walker in the head at point blank range. Finally the body crumpled to the ground, as it should have been all along.

The ball was rolling. Shane rolled with it, taking the momentum of what he had started and moved to the barn. In a fit of rage he broke open the lock. As the doors pushed open, Walkers started pulling out. The insanity ended here. Hershel and his daughters watched in horror as their neighbors, friends, and family were shot down in front of them.

There wasn't a moment's hesitation, as the firing line raised their rifles. River was as quick as the other's to join in, taking a place standing next to Glenn. Along with Shane, Daryl and T-Dog they fired, downing one Walker after another. It wasn't until the slaughter was over that the sound of gunfire subsided and the firing squad lowered their weapons.

Then it was Rick's band of survivor's turn to stand and watch in horror. One last figure emerged from the barn. Sophia. A breath caught in River's throat and her rifle hung limply at her side. The girl was long dead and turned into one of those... Things. A Walker. Not a little girl, River told herself, as she forced her muscles to respond, to raise her weapon once more.

Rick put out a hand, staying the young woman's movement. River dropped it back down once more and watched with an awe and respect as Rick did what needed to be done. Solemnly he drew his side-arm, aiming it at the child's head. The pain was so clear on his face as he moved his finger to the trigger. Then Rick shot Sophia. Or at least, what used to have been Sophia.

So much for it being a good day, River thought bitterly.