A/N: Author's notes at the end of the chapter today (don't want to spoil). Enjoy ...

Stuffing the last of his meager belongings into his duffle bag, Daryl cast a quick glance around the room to be sure he hadn't forgotten anything. He had packed a separate bag for Beth's things, including several bottles of the strawberry shampoo she liked. His eyes fell on the writing desk in the corner, where Beth had spent many nights curled up penning her thoughts into the diary he had given her as gift the night they arrived here.

Her diary had been one of the first things he had packed, knowing how much it had meant to her, that along with the cursed yellow polo she had taken from the country club. Blood stained and tattered, she hadn't worn it once since they had been reunited, but she had kept it, so Daryl was certain it meant something to her.

Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, Daryl reached for Beth's knife at his hip, and let his memory carry him back to that day, to the hunt for Beth's first drink. He'd been so damn angry with her stupid quest, storming the countryside looking for hooch after they had just lost everyone and everything ... Daryl hadn't understood until much later that their journey wasn't about booze at all, but a grieving young woman who wanted to do and feel something normal, refusing to just survive, she wanted to live again ... if only just for a little while. And their adventure had turned out to be a pivotal turning point in his life, a cathartic bonding experience for both of them ... closing open wounds - his old, hers new.

A knock at the door brought him back to the present, as Glenn poked his head in the doorway and announced that Mr. Rogers had finally awoken. With a nod of his head and renewed enthusiasm, Daryl stood, slung both bags over his shoulder and grabbed up his crossbow, whistling for the stupid dog to follow as he left the room and closed the door on yet another chapter of his life. Only this time he swore, it would not end with another loss.

Following Glenn back into the lounge, Daryl dropped the duffle bags by the door, propping his crossbow against them and joined the group that had already begun to gather around the man. It was Daryl he sought out, locking eyes with him.

"Better to be safe than sorry, huh friend?"

"We ain't your friends," Rick interjected, kneeling down in front of the man, establishing immediately that he was the one who would be asking the questions.

"That's only because we have yet to establish a rapport," the man offered, with a lopsided grin, then sucked in a sharp breath when the act of smiling pained his bruised face. "I'm Aaron. I'd shake your hand, but I'm a bit tied up at the moment."

Rick was not amused. "You think this is a game?"

"No sir, I do not," the man answered quickly. "Admittedly, I'm just trying to make the best of a bad situation."

"Who the hell are you?" Rick barked, opening the mans backpack up and dumping its contents onto the ground, then snatching up the manila envelope and pulling out the images.

"I told you, my name is Aaron -"

"What is this?" Rick cut him off, waving the pictures at him.

"That's my home," Aaron answered calmly, but offering little explanation beyond that.

"So what are you doing here?" Rick spoke slowly, deliberately, drawing out each syllable.

"I already explained that to your friends," Aaron nodded in Daryl's direction. "I'm just trying to get my partner, so we can get back home."

"Where's home?"

Aaron paused, swallowing nervously as he carefully weighed his next words. "I'm sorry, I'm just not at liberty to discuss that with you ... Yet."

"Horse shit!" Abe's voice boomed from somewhere in the back.

"Quiet!" Rick called over his shoulder before turning his attention back to Aaron. "Yet? What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Aaron swallowed again, "I don't mean to change the subject, but my throat's really dry. Do you think I could have some water? I - I won't impose on you, there's some in my pack ..."

Rick remained silent as he stared at their captive, then with a glance at the group, he ran an impatient hand through his hair and reached for the knife holstered at his hip. "You make one sudden move, do anything stupid and I swear I will slit your throat from ear to ear ..." He grumbled, grabbing for Aaron's bound wrists.

"You have my word," Aaron nodded his understanding.

"That don't mean much to me," Rick answered, slicing his bonds and handing him the bottle of water Maggie extended.

Aaron removed the cap and chugged greedily, emptying its contents in nearly one gulp. He paused for a moment, panting his thanks before draining the rest of the bottle.

"We came from Virginia," he said then, tilting the empty bottle towards Rick in a gesture of a salute. "A kindness for a kindness."

"Yer a long way from home," Daryl mumbled.

"Not really. I'm a scout ...a recruiter of sorts. It's my job. In my home community we all have jobs ..." He paused again, cupping his injured cheek in the palm of his hand. "My partner and I look for others like us, good people, to bring back to our community."

"Where in Virginia?" Maggie asked, leaning forward, her eyes sparking with interest.

Aaron pursed his lips and sighed. "That information I cannot share with just anyone." Then followed up quickly with, "I'm sure you can understand."

Glenn stepped forward, "Why should we trust you?"

Aaron tilted his head back, running his eyes over the entire group gathered around him. "Because the enemy of my enemy is my friend."

"What I understand," Rick growled, growing impatient with the tit for tat, "is that you're a stranger here. The stranger that tried to steal one of our vehicles. The stranger who happened to show up coincidentally talking about cops and police cars when we were just ambushed by a group fitting that description ... That's what I understand, friend."

"I admit it seems sketchy. The whole police thing is truly coincidental though, I swear. And yes, I was going to steal one of your vehicles, but I didn't." He reminded them, his warm blue eyes pleading with them to believe him. "Instead, I revealed myself, banking on faith that you were good people ... and hoping that we could help each other."

Rick shifted the conversation unexpectedly, hoping to provoke an honest answer. "How many Walker's have you killed?"

Aaron looked perplexed. "Seriously? I - I don't know. I haven't exactly kept count. More than few."

"How many people have you killed?" Rick asked the next question, watching Aaron's reaction intently.

"Two," He answered, his voice thick with remorse. "But only because I had to. My own survival counted on it," he offered willingly, eliminating the need for Rick to ask him "Why".

Rick stood abruptly, swiping the back of his hand against his worried brow, then drug his hand down the length of his beard stubble. "Get 'em up. Let's get 'em to Noah."

Daryl stepped forward then, reaching down to clasp Aaron firmly by the upper arm and helped hoist him to his feet, while Glenn flanked him on the other side, also grabbing his arm. Together they moved through the crowd, coming to stop by the couch Noah was propped up on. Still sweaty and weak, Noah looked up at them expectantly.

"This is Noah," Glenn introduced him. "He was temporarily with the group that took our people and your partner. Tell him your friends name."

"His name is Eric," Aaron said, his voice hopeful. "He's tall, fair freckled complexion and he has strawberry blonde hair."

Noah furrowed his brow, digging his elbows into the couch to push himself up more into a sitting position. "I'm sorry," he grunted, giving up and sinking back down into the soft cushions. "That doesn't sound familiar."

Aaron looked crushed, slumping defeated against Daryl as Rick moved towards them with a new length of rope, intending to rebind his arms.

"That doesn't mean he isn't there," Noah continued, halting Rick in his tracks. "But I'd been out and on my own for weeks before Beth and Daryl found me. It's possible that they found him while they were out searching for me."

"And it's possible he's a mole," Abe spat with a snort, folding his arms over his massive chest.

"Shhh Abraham," Rosita chastised him, tugging on one of his bulging biceps.

"And what sense does that make?" Aaron turned and asked him. "Really? What purpose do I serve? I don't even know where this police station is -"

"It's a hospital," Noah corrected him.

Aaron's head swung back towards Noah, "There, you see? All this time I was off on foot, I thought I was looking for a police station." He turned his pleading eyes back to Rick, poised just an arms length away with the rope. "Help me, please?," He begged desperately. "I'll do whatever you ask. Whatever you need. Don't trust me? Fine, I understand. Keep me bound then. Don't give me back my weapon, whatever makes you more comfortable, but I need to find Eric and get him home."

The room fell silent, as all eyes fell on Rick, waiting for his response, but it was Maggie who spoke up, pushing her way through the crowd to Aaron, his photographs clutched in her hand. "If we help you, you take us back to your community." It was not a question.

Aaron opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again, processing Maggie's terms. "This isn't how we recruit... I -"

"You bring back good people, right? You said that," Maggie interrupted him. "Last night when you revealed yourself, you said you thought we were decent people."

Aaron nodded, "Yes, but -"

"Well, we are good people," Maggie interrupted him again. "We'll help you get your partner back, but when you head back to Virginia, we go with you."

"Maggie," Glenn interjected, reaching to place his free hand that was not grasping Aaron, on her arm, "we don't even know these people -"

"No!" Shaking her head and Glenn's hand off of her arm simultaneously, Maggie held Aaron with her deep penetrating gaze, her blue eyes already welling up with unshed tears. "I'm pregnant," she blurted out, ignoring the gasps from those of the group who didn't already know. "My sister and friend were taken, along with his little girl," she thrust her finger in Rick's direction. "She's only a baby!"

Aaron opened his mouth again to speak, but Maggie wasn't finished. "You see that?" She asked, pointing to Carol's broken arm in the makeshift sling, "And that, and that, and that?" She rambled on, pointing to Noah, Tryeese, Father Gabriel and Sasha's battered form. "The people who have your partner did this ...unprovoked. And now we have nowhere else to go!"

Aaron drew in a deep breath, then exhaled it slowly, his eyes roaming around the room, taking in the wounded, the worried and the brokenhearted, then with another deep sigh, he nodded. "Alright," he nodded again. "We'll help each other. You help me get back Eric, and I'll take you back to our community."

Relief flooding through her features, Maggie stumbled forward into Glenn's arms, making him release Aaron to catch her. The stress and heartbreak of the ordeal finally proving to be too much for her, she sobbed uncontrollably into his chest, uncaring of who saw her.

"Take her to lie down," Carol instructed Glenn. "She's exhausted."

Glenn nodded, his grip on Maggie tightening as he steered her away from the group and to the far side of the common room, where it was quieter and less crowded. Aaron, who hadn't shrugged out of Daryl's grasp, even when Glenn had released him, watched them walk away with wide eyes, a pained expression on his face.

"So what is the plan?" Aaron asked, when he was finally able to tear his eyes away from the heartbreaking scene.

"That's on a need to know basis," Rick said, stuffing the length of rope into his back pocket. "If and when I feel you need to know, I'll tell you."

"But I thought -"

"I know what you thought," Rick cut him off, keeping his voice low so Maggie wouldn't hear him. "The fact remains, I still don't know you. We still don't know you. So we'll see what happens after we get our people back."

"Fair enough," Aaron agreed. "I hope I don't regret this."

"That makes two of us," Rick tossed back, then spoke directly to Daryl, "keep your eyes on him."

Daryl nodded, as Rick turned, raising his voice so the crowd could hear him. "Everyone finish packing and get your stuff on the bus. We'll be on the road by nightfall."

"C'mon," Daryl said, tugging on Aaron's arm, and leading him towards where he had dropped the duffle bags. He slung his crossbow onto his back, then tossed his own bag to Aaron. "Make yer'self useful."

With quick reflexes, Aaron caught the bag, shouldering it. "I take it I'm not getting my knife back?"

"Prob'ly not," Daryl answered honestly, as he hoisted Beth's bag into his own arms, handling it carefully, as if it were precious cargo.

Making sure that Aaron followed him, Daryl stalked towards the front entrance, still hanging off its hinges, and made his way to the bus parked in front of the lodge. The doors to the cargo hold along the bottom were all hanging open, half stuffed with food and supplies, as whatever actual personal belongings they had, wasn't much. No one made it a practice to get attached to monetary things anymore.

Stopping by the bus, Daryl gently placed Beth's bag in the hold, then turned to take his from Aaron, tucking it snugly beside hers, before reaching for some crates of food stacked in the yard, and loading them too. Aaron caught on quickly, assisting Daryl at the task.

Clopping down the porch steps, Abe appeared before them, thrusting Aaron's pack at him to load with the others. "I've got my eye on you, preppy," he growled before turning and climbing up into the bus.

"Is he always so hostile?" Aaron asked, depositing his pack into the hold, on top of Daryl's bag.

"Naw," Daryl shook his head, wiping the sweat from his brow before reaching for another crate. "He's actually pretty mild ta'day."

The sun had just begun to dip into the horizon, painting the sky in hues of pink and orange, as they finished loading up the bus. Winded, Daryl leaned against it, digging his cigarettes from his breast pocket and lighting one, he took a few drags, then extended his pack, offering one to Aaron.

"No thanks," Aaron declined with a wave of his hand. "Those things will kill ya, you know?"

Shrugging, Daryl flipped the lid closed and dropped the pack back into his pocket. "Smokin's tha least'a my worries," he replied, taking a long drag for emphasis.

"How long have you and your group been together?" Aaron asked, trying to keep the conversation going.

Daryl pursed his lips, his hand floating down to caress the hilt of Beth's knife. He was not one for idle chit chat, but he humored the man. "Most of us since tha start. We picked up a few on tha way ...lost some ..." Daryl let his sentence drop. There was no need to explain, Aaron understood what he meant, acknowledging such with a nod.

"Are you's from around here?"

"Georgia." Daryl took another long drag, inhaling slowly and blowing the smoke out through his nose. "An' ya'll?"

"Washington DC."

Daryl snorted at the irony. Taking two more quick puffs from his cigarette, he flicked it into the grass nearby and pushed himself away from the bus. "C'mon," he gestured for Aaron to follow him around to the side of the lodge where his motorcycle lay in a heap where he'd left it.

Grasping one of the handlebars, Daryl grunted, his muscles bunching as he hoisted the heavy bike back up on two wheels, releasing the kickstand. Stepping back, he circled the bike, checking it for damage. It wasn't too bad. The fender was bent and one of the taillights had shattered, but aside from a few scuffs, it was alright.

"Is this yours?" Aaron asked with avid interest.

Bending down to better inspect the taillight, Daryl shook his head yes, peering up at Aaron over the seat of the bike. "Ya ride?"

"No. I always wanted to, but no." Running his fingers along the shiny painted gas tank, he turned curious eyes on Daryl. "Won't this draw unnecessary attention to us?"

"Ain't gon' ride it," Daryl answered, raising himself back up into a standing position, and pointing to the flatbed of the black pick-up truck. "Ain't gon' leave it behind, neither."

"Good idea," Aaron smiled, following behind Daryl again, as he strolled to the pickup truck, lowered the tailgate, and grabbed a long wooden plank from the back.

Positioning it against the tailgate, he steadied it, then clamped onto the handlebars of the bike, wheeling it forward towards the truck. Figuring out his intentions, Aaron climbed into the truck bed, and as Daryl gathered momentum with a running start, pushing it up the plank, Aaron grabbed the handle bars and heaved it up the rest of the way.

Daryl muttered his thanks, climbing into the bed and handing Aaron some rope so they could secure the motorcycle to the truck, shaking it afterwards to make sure it was stable. Satisfied with a job well done, they both hopped down.

"If you two clowns are done," Michonne startled them, stealthy as usual, "come get something to eat before we head out."

Daryl slammed the tailgate shut and reached into his pocket, producing a set of keys, he tossed them to Michonne. She reached out and caught them effortlessly, a smile twisting her lips.

"Glad you finally came to your senses about my Jeep," she teased him, closing her fingers tightly around the keys, as she led the way back into the lodge.

"My Jeep," Daryl corrected her. "Better not scratch it."

Rick and Daryl had decided earlier, erring on the side of caution, that it was best they take the other vehicles with them too. If they were unable to find diesel fuel, or something happened to the bus, they couldn't afford to be stranded when so many of them were banged up and in no shape to be on foot. It was also a strategic move, as they planned to leave the bus a safe distance away from the hospital at a rendezvous point, in case shit got bad and they needed to get out of there fast, they'd hightail it and meet up later, back at the bus.

Taking a seat by the fireplace, Daryl forced himself to eat out of necessity, knowing he needed to, if only to keep himself going. Digging unceremoniously into the bowl of generic spaghetti-o's, he knew they tasted like rubber rolled in dirt, except he didn't actually taste them. The others did the same, everyone eating in complete silence, awash in the grim tension that clung to them all. Having his fill, Daryl stood, dropping his empty bowl into the fireplace and lit a cigarette, doing his best to be patient while the others finished their meal. It was dark outside now, and the prospect of finally reuniting with Beth was fueling his anxiety. She'd better be okay. Every damn inch of her, every damn strand of her hair. Tara and Judith too. If not ... No, he could not think that way. Would not. Not when they were so close.

Pulling Beth's knife from his holster, Daryl sat back down by the fireplace, and twirled its ivory handle around in his hands, feeling connected to her just by holding it. He drew from that comfort, reveled in it, allowing it to give him strength.

"It belonged to someone special to you, didn't it?" Aaron observed, putting his own finished bowl down.

Daryl shrugged, remaining silent.

"I don't mean to pry," Aaron followed up quickly. "I just notice you touch it a lot. I do the same thing ...see?" He extended his arm, showing Daryl the hemp bracelet on his wrist. "It belongs to someone I love, and it calms me when I feel like I'm losing focus."

Daryl cleared his throat and quickly tucked Beth's knife away, a little unnerved that a practical stranger had been able to read him so clearly, when he was usually so damn good at hiding his feelings from most people. "Person this belongs ta, is gettin' it back ta'night," he declared, taking a final drag from his smoke before tossing it into the fireplace with his empty bowl.

"I'm looking forward to meeting that person," Aaron replied.

Daryl was silent again. The man sounded genuine. Truthfully, he seemed and acted pretty damn genuine all day, even bound and surrounded by what might have been a hostile group of strangers. Daryl wondered if maybe the person he was so eager to get to was the owner of that bracelet? The time for wondering about anything was over finally, when Rick stood to address the group, spreading the map out on the service desk, as the others huddled around him.

"We'll take this route here," he explained, tracing his finger along the road on the map. "I'll lead a ways ahead in the pick-up truck with Eugene and his homemade smoke bombs. Abe, you'll follow behind me in the bus with the injured ... Sasha, Noah, Gabriel and Carol -"

"Rick, I'm fine," Carol interjected.

"And you're an excellent shot, but not with one arm. I need you to hang back and look after the injured. You're the only one left with medical experience and that's where I need you."

She nodded her understanding and Rick continued. "Maggie and Rosita, I want you's on that bus too. You'll hang back and keep watch with Abe," He paused turning to Maggie, before she had the chance to plead her case, "Don't argue with me. We aren't coming back without Beth, you have my word, but I need you on that bus with my son."

"But I'm going with you," Carl insisted. "Judith is my sister and Beth and Tara are family -"

"Carl," Michonne interrupted him. "You're going to listen to your father," she said, in a stern and loving motherly tone, leaving no room for argument.

When his son didn't protest any further, Rick continued. "Glenn and Ty, you'll take the mini-van and follow behind the bus, and Daryl and Michonne will pull up the rear in the Jeep. We'll leave the bus-"

"I'm really sorry to interrupt," Aaron spoke up nervously, raising his hand as if he were asking permission to speak.

Annoyed, Rick sucked in a ragged breath, dragging his hand down his beard and leveled Aaron with his piercing eyes. "Yes?"

"I'm just wondering where I will be?"

"You'll be staying on the bus where Abe can keep an eye on you."

Abe nodded his head, as if to reaffirm this.

"But ... I - I thought I'd be going with you? I'd like to go with you."

Rick shook his head no. "If you want our help, we do it my way. I want to get in and out quickly and -"

"That's fine," Aaron raised his palm in a sign of surrender, halting Rick's explanation. "I agreed to your terms and I'll abide by them."

Rick seemed unsure how to react to Aaron's reasonable response. After just a moments hesitation, he continued. "We'll leave the bus and pickup truck here," he tapped his finger on the map, indicating the spot, "six blocks from Haywood Regional. I think that's a safe enough distance away, incase anything goes wrong."

Picking up one of the two Walkie-Talkie's sitting on the service desk, he handed one to Daryl. "I'll keep the other one so we can stay in contact on the way down, as needed," he explained. "Once we get to the rendezvous point, give that to Abe so both of our parties can stay in touch when we separate."

Daryl nodded, remaining silent so Rick could finish laying out the game plan.

"Daryl, Michonne, Glenn, Ty, and I will take the van and the jeep and head to the hospital from there."

"And me," Eugene chimed in.

"And Eugene," Rick sighed.

Daryl couldn't help the small smile that teased the corners of his mouth. It was his idea to allow Eugene to come in the first place, and Rick had not been an easy sell. But he had made the smoke bombs after all, and the fact remained that they needed someone to stay behind with the vehicles while they snuck inside. If shit went bad, Eugene now knew the way back to the bus and would at least be safe within the van.

With the plan in place, Rick folded up the map and grabbed the remaining Walkie-Talkie, shoving it in the back pocket of his jeans, indicating the meeting was officially over. With that, the group quickly dispersed, some heading to their assigned vehicles, while the others helped carefully load the injured onto the bus, Daryl being one of them.

As Daryl exited the bus, he whistled for the dumb dog, halting Abe from closing the door. Another high pitched whistle had the ugly mutt leaping off the porch and bounding up the bus stairs, taking the empty seat beside Carl and greeting him with sloppy one-eyed dog kisses. Now, they were ready to go.

"Hate that dumb dog," Daryl grumbled, ignoring the knowing smile plastered on Michonne's face as he tossed his crossbow in the back of the jeep.

"Mmmhmm," she nodded, side-eyeing him hard, as she deposited her katana beside his crossbow and climbed into the drivers seat.

"You ready back there?" Rick's voice blared over the Walkie-Talkie.

"Yeh," Daryl answered back, jumping into the jeep as Michonne pushed in the clutch and turned the key.

As the caravan made its descent down the mountain, Daryl didn't look back. Like the prison before it, this place was now just a distant memory.

A/N: I felt as if this chapter was rushed. Not purposely obviously, although I won't lie and tell you that I'm not DYING to see our beloved couple back together again (maybe even more so than all of you) ...but I go where this story takes me. This chapter was really just filler, to build on a developing relationship between Aaron and Daryl - of whom I really enjoyed their dynamic together on the show in the back half of season 4. I'm typically drawn to the moral compasses (which never pans out well for me, considering TWD's track record), and Aaron is definitely one of my guilty pleasures. As for next week's chapter ...I suggest you all meditate and drink some herbal tea ...whatever you need to do to become zen ... Xoxo Lis