A/N: Yay for another chapter! Sorry it took me so long to get up, been kinda busy this weekend. But it's here now. Thanks to everyone who's added me to their respective lists, and special thanks to those of you who have reviewed. Y'all rock. : )

"A'ight, Daryl, think," Daryl muttered to himself, cautiously stepping one foot out, testing the strength of the boards. House that old probably had joists every sixteen inches; the midget was probably straddling one if she hadn't gone all the way through the floor. So if he was careful...

"Didn't I tell ya ta be careful?" He grunted, still testing each step as he slowly – Christ, so slow, he couldn't fall through or they were both fucked – moved closer to Jesse, eyes peeled for the signs of water-rotted floorboards.

"Jus' get me outta here!" The midget snapped, her voice a mixture of fear and pain.

"Relax!" Daryl barked back, coming to a stop just behind her, praying he'd guessed the joist length right. Looking down at her leg, seeing the blood, and seeing the broken board, he felt his heart sink.

"A'ight... C'mon," Jesse said impatiently, uncomfortable with him standing behind her, just out of eyesight unless she tilted her head back.

"You ever had a pair a Chinese handcuffs?"

Daryl's question pissed her off, and she turned her head, ignoring the awkwardness of the motion, to glare at him. "The hell does that have ta do with anythin'?" She demanded, still feeling the blood leaking from her leg. She hadn't even looked down, hadn't wanted to know how bad the injury was.

"Merle came home with a pair when I was 'bout ten. See, the thing 'bout Chinese handcuffs is... if ya jus' pull on 'em? Won't ever free ya self. Jus' get more stuck."

Jesse was two seconds away from snapping at him, when – thank God – she felt him kneel behind her, one of his well-muscled arms sliding around her body, and pulling her up. But her relief quickly turned to anger when he stopped, having only lifted her a few inches.

"What the fuck, Daryl?! Pull me out!"

He continued to ignore her, and she felt his other hand brush against her ass, before going lower.

"Hey! What the fuck are ya doin'?!" She yelped, unable to keep the panic out of her voice.

"Ta get outta 'em, ya gotta push 'em back together. This is kinda like the reverse a that. Sorry."

Sorry what, her brain screamed, feeling a full blown anxiety attack coming on, when she felt the board rip down the back of her leg again, and she had to grit her teeth to keep herself from really screaming.

Daryl felt bad; shitty, really. As soon as he'd seen the boards, he'd known there was only one way to get her out without seriously fucking up her leg, and that was to just fuck her leg up a little bit.

He wasn't a carpenter by any means, but he'd done enough repair around the shitty house he'd grown up in to know that if he just tried yanking her out, the two broken pieces of board would come up with her; would dig further into her leg, pinching it between the two pieces of wood.

So one of the pieces had to be broken down. Sounded simple. Only problem was, from what he could see, both pieces were already gouged into her leg. Meaning that it had to dig in further to get it out.

He'd tried distracting her; he knew he'd failed miserably with his stupid Chinese handcuff example, but he'd tried.

He'd felt her panic when his hand accidentally touched her ass, had heard it in her voice. But he forced himself to ignore it, feeling around blindly for the board, before smashing it with his hand as hard as he could, while simultaneously pulling her up with his arm. Heard her grunt of pain, as they both fell backwards, her landing on his chest, shoving all the air out of his lungs. He had the brief thought that they were lucky they hadn't both gone through the floor.

As soon as he'd regained his breath, he gently pushed her up, and around, so that she was sitting bridal style in his lap, looking at the damage to her leg.

It was bad. It looked like it gouged in at least an inch on the front, from her knee to the top of her thigh. Feeling the underside of her leg through her jeans, he could tell it was just as bad or worse in the back.

"Ya got a rag or somethin' in the backpack?" He asked gruffly, noticing that she was still breathing hard, her eyes squeezed shut in pain.

"Yeah. Got an extra shirt in there," She said through gritted teeth, not opening her eyes to look at him.

"A'ight. Let's get ya back down stairs, an' I'll wrap it up, an' get you back ta the farm." Even as he spoke, he pushed himself to his feet, keeping her cradled close to his chest.

"Ya find anythin'?"

"Found a cubby with some blankets. Can a sardines that was still kinda fresh. She was here. After I get ya back, I'll come back here an' see if I can pick up a trail."

It worried him how easily she seemed to accept that. Worried him almost as much as realizing her blood was already soaking through his jeans, and coating his hand. Almost as much as her fluttering eyes did.

"Jesus, girl, ya a magnet for disaster, ain't ya?" He asked, forcing a chuckle to his voice. He knew he had to keep her talking, keep her from passing out.

"Shut up," She muttered, opening one eye to glare at him.

"S'true though. Three days, an' ya jus' keep bustin' that leg up worse. First ya ankle, now this. Ya want me ta jus' save ya some time, an' chop it right off?" He asked, setting her on the floor of the living room after pulling the pack off her back. "Jesus, ya put half the damn camp in here," He mumbled, digging through it till he finally found the gray pocket tee shirt she'd buried at the bottom. Cutting a few strips off the bottom, he wrapped the rest around her leg, tying it off tightly with the strips, forcing himself to ignore her grunts of pain.