"I hear Jerusalem bells a-ringing,

Roman cavalry choirs are singing,

Be my mirror, my sword, and shield,

My missionaries in a foreign field...,"

-Viva la Vida; by Coldplay

Charlotte managed to change Daryl's bandages without him putting up much of a fuss. He was still difficult, but she worked her way through it with slight ease. Daryl seemed to want to put up the whole tough-guy façade, acting as if he didn't need any kind of medical attention. Charlotte had to constantly remind him about the possibilities of infection, how he could die if his wounds weren't properly medicated and the bandages changed regularly. She wanted the huntsman to know that his contribution to the group — despite her not being apart of it very long — was important and his physical health being more than subpar could help with that. And in that moment, with his injury from his crossbow and the graze from the bullet from Andrea was diminishing what he could and couldn't do.

"I'll have to check on it later," she said, after finishing. "Eat up, get some rest. I'll be back in a few hours."

Daryl grumbled something unintelligible under his breath, causing Charlotte to arch a brow at him.

"I will take that as a 'thank you'," she sighed. "See you soon."

—Us Against the World—

The nighttime air was, as usual, bitter but refreshing. Being cooped up in Hershel's for what Charlotte considered a lifetime made her a little restless, it made her enjoy being outside, even if she wasn't on the move, a little more. Charlotte's old instincts were still showing themselves every now and again, especially her one-day-only rule. Before finding Rick and his people, Charlotte didn't want to stay in one place anymore than she had to. One night sufficed, anything longer than that was dangerous. If scavengers were to raid the place she was staying in, or rotters were to overrun it, then Charlotte knew that she'd be done for. Thankfully, though, that never happened.

Leaning against Dale's RV to get some fresh air before heading to bed, Charlotte's little moment of silence — since anyone who wasn't on watch was already sleeping from what Charlotte could tell — was cut short when she heard a soft whistle a few feet to her left. It was Shane. In Charlotte's opinion, it was a little odd for him to actually be communicating with her; sure, the instance where they were talking about the old days could count as "friendly banter", but Charlotte wouldn't really consider herself Shane's friend. Hell, they were barely even acquaintances.

"You should be sleeping," he said, his tone hushed but still loud enough to hear.

"I will in a little bit."

With a nod, Shane rubbed his head, his gaze wandering for a moment before glancing over at Charlotte. He still wasn't sure what to think of her. She had mentioned wanting to leave with some supplies in the beginning, but she hadn't. Rick had told him about Charlotte's decision to stay, and it was a bit of a conflict on Shane's part. That meant there was one more person to feed and protect, which meant the group would have to work harder. But Charlotte's medical experience made her important.

"You think we'll find Sophia out there?" he blurted. It was a bit of an unconscious thing to do, but it he felt it was important to ask. Shane knew Rick's thoughts on the whole Sophia ordeal, he knew that — obviously — Carol wanted to keep looking. It felt like the whole group was only looking to make Carol feel better. It didn't feel like people were even giving Carl the time of day anymore. Sure, the kid managed to pull through from his surgery, but wasn't Carl's improvement just as important as finding Sophia?

A sharp look was thrown Shane's way. "I think we'll find out soon enough," she muttered.

"That ain't answering the question."

"Well what do you want me to say?" Charlotte hissed. "I really believe there's a chance we'll find her, but there's also a chance we won't or, if we do, she could be..." Cutting herself off before she said something else, Charlotte ran a hand through her hair. "I know what your thoughts are on this, Shane," she grumbled. "You've made it perfectly clear. I can't change the way you think, but I'd make sure you really consider what you say around the others."

"You haven't even been with us that long," he scoffed, shaking his head. "How can you know what's good for us?"

"Finding that little girl will mean the world to Carol. It'll mean the world to Rick. You wouldn't want someone you care for going missing, being chased down by rotters and then disappearing."

"See, if it were up to me, I wouldn't have gotten them lost in the first place. None of this woulda happened if I had been in charge."

Charlotte's eyes narrowed slightly. "Given the chance you might be in charge doesn't mean someone you care for can't go missing," she said slowly. "And it certainly doesn't mean Sophia wouldn't have gone missing in the first place."

Without another word, Charlotte went into the RV.

—Us Against the World—

The next morning, everything was unusually quiet. Hershel and his people went about their usual business, Rick and his people went about theirs. Hershel had given Carl a clean enough bill of health for the young boy to be able to get up and go outside. From what Lori had said, Carl's wound had healed enough for him to walk and move around, but he had to be very careful with his movements. If he wasn't, there was a chance that whatever stitches remained would tear and reopen any unhealed tissues. Charlotte — at least in her own opinion — would've had Carl on bedrest a little while longer, but she knew better than to argue with Hershel's judgment. He had more medical experience than she did, so she trusted him to know what he was talking about.

In the little campsite not far from Hershel's house, the group was getting itself into its usual morning routine. Breakfast was getting ready to be cooked, any remaining laundry was being folded and handed back to the owners, and people were trying to find some time to wash themselves up. Little things to keep themselves occupied and distracted for however long they could keep it up.

Charlotte found herself helping T-Dog put up the RV's sun protector. After it had been put up, Glenn came by with a basket full of peaches. Glenn's face looked exceptionally pale, almost sickly pale. He hadn't uttered a single word the entire morning, only occasionally interacting with whoever wanted a peach, but he hardly uttered an intelligible sound. Or at least a coherent sentence. So when Glenn came by, stopping in front of T-Dog and Charlotte, plus Dale who had approached them, the sickly look on Glenn's face seemed to worsen.

"'Sup?" T-Dog yawned.

"Nothing," Glenn replied quickly. "Nothing's up. Why?"

Without another word, and after the trio had taken a peach, Glenn hurried off with the basket.

"He looked a little pale," Charlotte noted, taking a bit out of the fruit. "I think he's getting sick."

"Well something's up with him," Dale said. "I haven't seen him jumpy like this before."

Humming, Charlotte took another bite. "Maybe you could talk to him," she suggested, her words a little garbled from her full mouth. "He listens to you, I bet."

Dale nodded.

"Well, I got no idea what his problem is, but I have other things to do." T-Dog shook his head before walking off.

"I should probably check on Daryl," Charlotte sighed, swallowing the food in her mouth.

"He's in his tent." Dale looked at Charlotte. "Left the room Hershel put him in early this morning."

Rolling his eyes, Charlotte tossed the remainder of the peach aside in slight frustration, rubbing her hands on her jeans. "Which tent's his?" she asked. Once it had been pointed out to him, she walked over to it. Standing near the entrance, she crossed her arms over her chest. The opening was unzipped, but she knew better than to barge in. "Knock, knock," she announced. "Can I come in?"

There was a moment's silence before Daryl replied. "Yeah." It was grumbled and sounded almost irritated, but Charlotte took the opportunity to enter. The bandages on his head were gone, and his shirt was partially on, showing off at least half of his chest and partially his stomach. It didn't seem to bother Daryl all that much, the amount of skin he was showing, but Charlotte could only assume it was because he was wearing a shirt of some sort.

"Dale said you came here early this morning," Charlotte said. "I thought I told you to rest."

Shrugging, Daryl looked at the arrow he had in his hands, as if it fascinated him more than what Charlotte was trying to point out. "I'm fine," he muttered.

"Did Hershel check on you?" she pressed. "Before you came in here?"

He shook his head.

At least he's honest, she thought.

Kneeling down beside him, Charlotte arched a brow at him. "You're stubborn, I'll give you that much," she murmured. "Since you took your bandages off for me, let me see your head."

Daryl looked at her for a moment before slightly turning his head. Charlotte resisted the urge to roll her eyes, given that she couldn't really tell how it was from that angle.

"If you want me to lean over you to see the injury, I'll do it. I can't see it from this angle."

That seemed to be enough to convince him to turn enough for her to see. Gently moving some of his hair out of the way, Charlotte saw the wound had scabbed over, some of the skin — from what she could see at least — was a little red and puffy, but given the short time span since Daryl obtained the injury, it seemed natural. Charlotte couldn't see any sign of infection, there wasn't any sign of discharge, but it still needed medication applied to it.

"I'll still need to apply medicine to it," she replied, looking at the huntsman. "Since you don't seem to want your head bandaged, which is a bad idea in my opinion, I'll have to keep this regularly medicated so infections don't set in."

"Don't need you watching over me all the time," Daryl grumbled.

"You got grazed by a bullet and impaled by your arrow," Charlotte replied. "I have to watch over you. Seeing as you don't seem interested in resting or keeping your bandages on, I'll have to make sure you don't strain yourself."

"Ain't you got T-Dog and the kid to worry about?"

"T-Dog's cut is healing up just fine," Charlotte said. "The antibiotics fought off the infection and he should be getting the stitches out in a matter of weeks. Hershel's got Carl under control. He's got more medical experience than I do, so I think he knows what he's doing with stuff like that." Daryl's face hardened. "I managed to keep Carl and T-Dog alive and I'll keep you alive, OK?" she sighed. "Don't get all uppity with me."

Looking at Charlotte carefully, Daryl went back to focusing on his arrow. He didn't say anything, which Charlotte didn't expect him to, so she took that as her sign to leave.

"I'll be sure to come back with some medicine," she said. "Are your stitches holding up at least?"

Daryl responded with a short nod.

"Good." As she turned to leave, she heard Daryl mumble something. Turning to look at him, Charlotte felt a wave of confusion wash over her. "I'm sorry?" she said.

Without looking her way, Daryl mumbled a "thank you".

Feeling the corners of her mouth twitch upward, Charlotte nodded in response.

—Us Against the World—

By the time Charlotte had gathered all her medial supplies, plus a few things she managed to nab from Hershel's, she noticed a majority of the group was leaving. The only ones who stayed behind were Dale, Glenn, and — hopefully, but probably not — Daryl.

"Hey Dale!" she called. "Where're they going?"

"Shooting practice," Glenn replied. "Shane was wondering if you were coming."

Charlotte frowned deeply. After the little discussion they had the previous night — that little debate — Charlotte was in no mood to be around him. "I wish I could go, but I can't," she said. "They're gone now."

With a nod, Glenn turned his attention back to Dale. Charlotte took notice to how Glenn's facial expression looked like it was borderline mortified, plus a bit of confliction. It helped Charlotte know that he wasn't sick, thank God, but it didn't help that he looked scared out of his mind. He seemed more than fine the day before, what could've caused him to become so jumpy in such a short time?

(A/N):

Sorry for the delay on this chapter, hopefully you guys like it though. If there's anything you think needs improvement, don't hesitate to let me know.

Do I own TWD? No. No I do not.

I finished all my finals for winter quarter, so now I am on spring break. So, I've got about two and a half weeks to do as many updates as possible when I'm outside of work. I do go back to college for spring quarter in early April, just so you guys know.

If you've got ideas for subplots or OCs, don't hesitate to let me know.

Thanks.

Alek Haydn