[A/N: Crack out the champagne, I've finished it! Four chapters left (including this one), final edits happening now. We'll be done in a couple of weeks.]

It was hours later again, maybe. Time was still moving like treacle. Asha couldn't tell. She and Beth were sitting quietly, side by side, staring at nothing.

The floorboards creaked. Beth tensed but didn't scurry away this time. Asha held her hand.

There was a sharp rap at the storeroom door. Beth flinched and Asha gave her hand a little squeeze.

'Hello hello,' Gorman called cheerfully. 'I'm going to open the door in a minute Asha and you're going to walk as far as the door frame, nice and slow. I've got Ryke with me, so don't be thinking of pulling any of that crap you pulled with Gareth.'

Asha grimaced. The whole attack on Gareth had been poorly thought through anyway. All she'd done was ramp up the pain in her rib cage - to the point it was almost competing with her head, although she was starting to feel that the pain there might have backed off a little.

'You ready?' Gorman called.

Beth clung to her hand, whites of her eyes showing even in the dark. Asha wrapped the younger woman's hand in both of hers and squeezed, forcing a small smile. 'You survived him Bethy. I will too.'

She got up.

'I'm waiting for an answer Asha,' Gorman said.

'Just trying to contain my excitement,' she called snidely.

A key clunked, the lock clicked and the door eased open.

There was no easy target silhouetted in the light this time.

'Don't be shy,' Gorman said from somewhere just out of sight. 'But nice and easy.'

Asha took a few steps forward.

'Stop there in the doorway,' he called as her view through the open door widened enough to reveal Ryke - Gorman's rate faced companion from earlier - off to the left with a pistol pointed at her chest. Gorman was standing off to the right.

'Close the door behind you.'

She did as told.

'Boots off,' Gorman ordered. 'I can do without you kicking me with those things on.'

Asha tugged them off reluctantly, she had little chance of crushing his windpipe in bare feet. She stood there, frowning irritably with her toes poking through holes in both threadbare socks.

'Anything else?' she asked facetiously.

'Yes actually. Arms out in front. Wrists together.' Gorman held his hand out to Ryke without looking and lanky man passed him the gun, before pulling a length of rope from his back pocket. Gorman gestured with the gun and she stepped forwards, into the room.

'Actually wait,' Gorman said suddenly. 'Lose the top first. Be tricky to get that off once your hands are tied.'

Ryke smirked slick as oil beside him.

Asha gifted them a flat eyed glare.

'Come on Asha,' Gorman said. 'We don't have all day.'

She glared at them a moment longer and then grasped the hem and pulled the t shirt over her head before dropping it on the ground. She ignored Ryke's open leer as he looked her up and down and kept her gaze fixed balefully on Gorman - imaging the satisfaction she'd feel when she smacked that smug expression off his face.

'That looks like it hurt,' Gorman said dryly.

For a moment she wasn't sure what she meant, then her eyes flickered down and she saw the blue and purple mottling wrapping her ribcage - thanks to Harley and Billy.

'You think?' she answered equally dryly.

Ryke slipped a finger under her bra strap and snapped it, and Asha hated the wholly involuntary part cringe part flinch that had her jerking away.

'You want this off too?' he said grinning.

Asha fought the panic gripping her throat, steeling herself, fixing a cold look of disdain on her face. She wasn't an idiot. She knew where this was headed, but she would be damned if she would give them the satisfaction of seeing her squirm more than she absolutely had to.

Gorman surprised her. 'Not yet,' he said.

'Gonna have the same problem with it once her hands are tied,' Ryke said dubiously.

'I said no,' Gorman said, looking faintly annoyed. 'Just sort her hands out.'

Ryke shrugged, stepping in and smirking as he bound the rope firmly around her wrists.

Asha gave him a disgusted look, swallowing her relief hat retain a modicum of dignity for the moment, before glancing discretely around the room.

It looked the same, although her heart seized a little at the sight of Daryl's crossbow tossed negligently on the bed. Maybe she could manoeuvre herself into a position where she could point it at Gorman, but surely he'd be on to that risk? Plus it was unloaded, and the draw weight on that thing had always been an issue for her.

There was a bucket of faintly steaming water and a bar of soap sitting on the floor off to the left of the bed. She'd been expecting it so her eyes went past, but then skipped back.

A metal bucket.

Could she swing it hard enough to brain him?

'There we go,' Ryke grinned, tugging at her wrists, an anticipatory gleam in his eyes. 'Nice and tight.'

Too tight actually. She wondered if she could use that to choke Gorman if she could get her hands looped around his neck.

'Good,' Gorman said without looking at his companion. 'Now get out.'

Ryke shot him a surprised look.

'Out,' Gorman growled, still without looking at him.

Ryke's face flashed bitter disappointment. He tried to force it into something expressionless but just wound up looking sullen. 'Fine,' he grated, walking heavily to the door and closing it so firmly that it was just short of being slammed.

Gorman smiled. 'Ah, privacy at last,' he said expansively.

Ah, even odds at last.

Asha looked him up and down. He was heavyset and fleshy, and appeared not much changed from when she'd known him. He had the same air of self entitlement - entirely undeserved in Asha's opinion. It had always rubbed her up the wrong way and had ensured that she had always been short and snide and just short of outright disgusted with Gorman. Exactly how that treatment of him had encouraged his attention she'd never understood.

She watched him silently, knowing his need for self aggrandizement was was such that he'd have to fill the space.

He didn't say anything immediately, just smirked as he watched her, and then strolled over to the bed. Asha couldn't help the violent twitch her hands gave as he picked up Daryl's crossbow.

He noticed. His smirk widened.

'Maybe i'll keep this. The archer doesn't need it anymore.'

She ground her teeth together and kept silent. She'd brained walkers using that bow as a club. How much harder could an unturned skull be?

'He didn't die straight away you know. Marcus must have been a bit off his game. Bullet punched a lung. Apparently he sobbed and gurgled for a while out there before he bled out.'

Asha stayed silent, oddly enough relaxing just a fraction. She'd seen Daryl bloody on the ground - the image was burned with inescapable detail on the inside of her eyelids - and he'd been deathly still. Gorman was lying.

That he felt the need to lie told her something.

If he was annoyed by her silence, he didn't show it, just tossed the crossbow carelessly back on the bed. Asha's jaw tightened at the casual disregard.

'What do you think of my little pet?'

I think that if you come near her again I will tear your cock off with my teeth and shove it down your own throat.

She didn't say it, she just shrugged dismissively. 'I think i'm not surprised that you have to trap a girl in the darkness in order to get your kicks.'

A flicker of annoyance crossed his face.

She filled the her voice with all the scorn she could muster. 'Have you ever had a willing partner?'

He backhanded her, but she'd anticipated it and was already leaning away. A glancing blow a best.

She wondered how quick she'd have to be to drop her tied hands over his head and behind his shoulders so she could sink her teeth into his neck.

He stayed just out of range. She was disappointed.

'Now now,' Gorman chided. 'None of that. I plan to enjoy myself, so you reign in that tongue of yours or I'll reign it in for you.'

She kept quiet. But there was a little blood in her mouth and she spat it on the ground, noting the she slight look of irritation cross his face.

Good. The more she pissed him off the more careless he was likely to become.

She curled her tongue and spat again.

Part of it was to spite him and part of it, she realised, was that she had reached the point where she'd started to give into her worst self destructive tendencies. Daryl might be alive, but it was more probable that he was not - and whatever had happened to Michonne, Rick and Carl, there was nothing she could do for them right now. What she could do, she hoped, and she really wanted to do it, was destroy Gorman.

He kept a lid on his temper, stepping back and pulling a knife from his belt before lounging into the armchair beside the bed. The gun Ryke had handed him was still in his other hand, casually trained on her.

'This is how this is going to work,' he said, pointing at the bucket of water. 'You're going to clean up. I can smell the road and that room on you from here. And then you're going to entertain me. Any way I want.' He paused to scratch meaningfully at his cheek with the tip of the knife - Nash's knife, Asha realised as she saw the nick in the blade. 'And the prospects of you coming away without any significant scars will be dramatically improved if you don't do anything stupid - but if you want to try,' he nodded at a length of rope coiled beside the chair and then pointed to the exposed rafters. 'I'll string you up and we can do things the hard way. Do you understand me?'

Asha's lip twitched but she nodded reluctantly. Her chances of killing Gorman would go from slim to non-existent if that happened.

'Good. Because you don't look like you'd survive the hard way right now.' He put the gun down carefully on a side table tucked almost behind the chair, then spread his arms wide where they lolled on the armrests. 'I'll do my best Asha, but I'm not a saint, and you can be a trying bitch at the best of times. I'd hate to do something that i regretted afterwards.'

'I thought the fight was part of the attraction.'

'Within reason.' He sat forward in the armchair, tongue darting across his lip. 'Don't kid yourself bitch, you'll sob and scream and beg for mercy like they all do. All that pride you have, all that strength you think you have, i'm going to take it and break it all over the floor.' He grinned lasciviously. 'Or the bed, or maybe up against a wall if i'm feeling energetic.'

Her stomach turned over. 'Do you enjoy being a rapist?' she said spitefully. 'It suits you, it's like it's who you were meant to be.'

There was more than just a flicker of annoyance this time. She guessed that even now he didn't enjoy having that word applied to him.

'You are the worst kind of woman Asha,' he snarled. 'One of those stuck up bitches who don't realise their place in this world. Think they're too good for the men who make this world work. You would be nothing without us and you're too stubborn to even realise it - but guess what? Neither your brother or your boyfriend are here now, and i'm rather looking forward to teaching you that lesson.'

Asha suddenly understood. She was every woman who ever turned him down - and she imagined there had been a lot of them over a lot of time. And she also understood that with the way the world had changed he didn't have to settle for sour resentment anymore.

She bared her teeth at him. 'That's if i can stop myself being sick as soon as you touch me.'

'You'd better or i'll make you eat it.'

She had the unhappy feeling he meant it literally.

His brow was furrowed at her. 'You know, you don't have to be able to talk for me to get what i want Asha. Keep it up and I've got some dirty socks around here that i could use as a gag.'

Asha gave him a sour look, but held her tongue for the time being.

'Good. I think it's time for you to start washing up otherwise you'll be bathing in cold water.' He settled back in the chair and started smiling again. 'Best start taking those clothes off.'

Shot him a contemptuous look, but when he reached meaningfully for the gun, she reluctantly began tugging one threadbare sock off with the toe of the other foot.

'I used to find it hard to believe you used to be a cop,' she said moving on to the other sock. 'But I get it now. You didn't join to protect and serve, to help others. You joined because you liked the power.' She shifted her bound hands to the waistband of her jeans but had to pause force down a wave of disgust. She reluctantly started to loosen her belt.

Her belt.

If she could get it around his neck she could choke him with it.

She stalled pretending it was more difficult to work loose with bound hands than it was.

'What was your favourite part?' she kept talking, letting derision flood her voice. 'Arresting minor felons? Making a big deal about minor infringements just to ruin someone's day? I can't imagine you were ever trusted with anything too important. Bet you loved arresting streetwalkers, although i'm guessing you'd let them off if they threw you a freebie right? Actually i bet you always had an eye out for all sort of kickbacks and "off-the-book" perks.'

Her belt was out and she discreetly tucked the end back through the buckle to make a loop.

Gorman frowned. 'So what if I took advantage of a regular free beer at the local bar? Nothing wrong with people wanting show a little respect, a little gratitude for the good work we did.'

Asha laughed, leaning forwards as she injected all he scorn she could into her voice. 'You're a weasel Gorman. No one's ever respected you just for being you, so you had to borrow some from a uniform. You know who you remind me of? Cartman, from South Park. Just a fat little piggy who's all "respect my authorita" when that's the last thing you deserve.'

Gorman surged out of the armchair, pig eyes glittering. Asha couldn't help an involuntary step back, but she pulled it up after one. Gorman had Nash's knife extended in front of him and he pressed the tip into the hollow at the base of her throat until blood beaded around the point and dribbled down her chest.

'You can drop that belt now. You think i don't know what you're thinking?'

Bitter disappointment crept up her throat. She let the leather slip from her fingers and he scraped it away with a foot.

'I'm not a cop anymore, and the people here respect me plenty.'

Asha thought better of providing a smart ass response when he had steel already pressed against her.

His free hand snapped around her bruised ribs and he squeezed, sending her breath hissing through her teeth. He leant in and breathed in her ear. 'And i never let them off after the freebie.'

The leer stuck to his face as he slid around beside her, trailing the knife around her ribcage and up under her bra strap. His rank breath blasted her cheek. 'Move and i'll be as happy to cut your flesh as this strap.'

She fought the need to hyperventilate, steeling herself for the cut - for the unwelcome exposure and the sensation of his greasy hands on parts of her skin she had hoped only Daryl would be seeing in the future.

Then the room swelled with a noise that was beyond noise, her ears popping as a wave of something pushed both of them sideways - a little sear of pain along her rib as the blade nicked her before slipping free.

She staggered, ears ringing. Gorman was reeling, hand pressed to his head. With speed born of desperation she took one quick step, seized the bucket by the handle and swung. Still discombobulated and with water splashing everywhere it was a miracle she connected, but she did - not hard enough to brain him as it turned out, but enough to open a gash from ear to forehead. Already unsteady, his eyes glazed and he dropped to a knee, knife spilling from numb fingers.

Asha scrambled, bound hands pouncing desperately on the blade as Gorman knuckled his bloody forehead and shook his head to clear it. She saw him start to collect himself, but the long seconds it took him to do so were enough.

Two handed she swung the blade, punching it into his chest just as his eyes started to clear. They bulged suddenly, whites showing and he made a sound that was part squeal, part blood. His other knee dropped and with strength born of elation and adrenaline she yanked the knife free and drove it back into his chest - where it caught on a rib and held fast and she reluctantly gave it up.

Gorman stared at her with an expression beyond shock, blood flecking his lips as his hands went to the blade.

'Help me,' he wheezed.

'Help you?' she hissed incredulous. 'You're lucky the knife's stuck. Rapists deserve castration.'

His breath was a wet gurgle.

'That's what happened to the men who hurt Ren.' She stepped forward, snarling, suddenly enraged, carrying all the hurt of all the women who had suffered that fate. 'That's what you deserve. For Beth. For all the others. Just die, and be grateful-'

The door burst open behind him, bouncing off the wall with enough force to rattle the windows.

Ryke followed fast through it. 'Gorman, you're needed all hell's-'

Ryke missed a step as he took in the scene, but only one and his momentum kept him barreling in Asha's direction.

She dove across the bed for the hand gun, fingertips brushing the smooth heaven of the metal before strong hands clamped on her ankles and she was reefed backwards with enough force that she bounced clear off the bed and smacked chest first into the ground.

Air fled her lungs and was replaced by pain, wrapping hot sharp fingers into her ribs. Barely a few feet away Gorman had toppled to his back, eyes glassy and bloody spittle bubbling with each rasping breath.

Unable to move, unable to breathe she could do nothing as rope was looped through the rope still around her wrists and then she was hauled up and up - the rope between her wrists looped over a rafter and pulled until she was stretched almost on her toes before Ryke tied it off.

A shudderingly painful breath finally made it into her lungs, and she sucked another as Ryke grinned, sauntering around her to take in the view. 'Think i'm beginning to get what Gorman saw in you,' he said, stepping nonchalantly over the former cop who gasped out his final burbling breaths, grasping pleadingly at his friend's legs.

The sound of gunfire drifted in through the door, then there was a sudden staccato burst that sounded closer than the rest. Ryke glanced away reluctantly. 'I gotta deal with this, but then I am gonna be back.' He paused for a second over Gorman, ignoring the man's feeble clawing, and retrieving a set of keys from the fallen man's pocket before winking as he turned for the door.

'What about him,' Asha said gesturing desperately with her head towards Gorman. 'Won't be anything left to enjoy if he turns.'

'Better hope I'm back quick then. Just think of him as my insurance policy. Besides, if Gorman gets you, I'll still have her.' He pointed with the gun towards the storeroom door.

Asha slumped, the door closing and locking, leaving her with nothing but Gorman's death rattle for company.

She sucked in a breath, shaking uncontrollably as the aftermath of a month's worth of adrenalin washed her out. She tried to focus. There had to be a way out of this - but her mind simply recoiled from the knowledge that she had beaten Gorman only to end up strung up for him to eat when he turned.

This could not be how it ended.

She tested the ropes, looking searchingly around but there was nothing in reach of her feet. Then she sagged defeated, shoulders already starting to burn where the muscles were stretched.

She was never going to see Daryl again. Her breath shortened and the room faded into something black with pain.

It didn't matter if Gareth had been lying, even if he was only injured, what were the chances of him surviving the gunfight outside? She found that apart from guilt at failing Beth, she was struggling to care that this was the end.

Without Daryl none of it mattered.

Her head tipped forwards and she sobbed brokenheartedly.

Crouched low, Daryl followed Rick and Glenn as they fled back in the direction of the railcar, forcing away the image of human torsos strung up in the drying room. First things first, get their people out - and the dead, drawn by whatever that explosion had been, were swarming and the Termites were out in force.

The pistol he'd taken off a dead Termite was gripped tight in his right hand, the bullet wound in his left shoulder throbbing. His brain hadn't registered the sound of the gunshot at the time, so he hadn't known what was happening when he suddenly hit the ground - white heat exploding in his shoulder and all he could hear was Asha screaming.

Then there was just pain.

Then Gareth shouting beyond that, ordering Rick, Michonne and Carl into the railcar and he thought he was going to be left, gasping short breaths, to bleed out in the dirt.

For a moment he was glad that if it had to end, then at least it was somewhere he could see the sky - but then he remembered Asha and the look on Gorman's face and where Rick and Michonne and Carl were and he snarled trying to roll to his feet.

He wasn't dead yet.

'Stay still,' said a sharp voice and a rough but rather small hand pressed against his injured shoulder, pushing him back flat to the ground. A small dark woman with pinched features and grey at her temples appeared in his field of view. She frowned as though he was an inconvenience and dropped a black bag in the corner of his vision, opening it to reveal an array of medical gear.

'How bad?' Gareth asked appearing above her shoulder, looking thoroughly pissed off.

The small woman peered at the wound, digging a finger into the injury so that he groaned and tried to roll away from her, giving her a good view of the back of the shoulder. His shirt, wet through and sticky, clung to his flesh. Her fingers seemed to be everywhere, poking fire. He tried to push her off but she slapped his hand away.

'Lie still now,' she snapped.

'Stop poking me then,' Daryl gasped, but was unable to resist her pushing him back to the ground.

'Well?' Gareth demanded.

'He's a lucky bastard,' she said, wiping bloody hands on a cloth she'd pulled from somewhere. 'Here,' she pointed a narrow finger at Daryl's shoulder and he flinched back as best he could with his back flat on the ground. She gave him a withering look. 'Bullet entered just below the collarbone and just in from the joint. Through and through as far as I can tell. I'll pack it to stop the bleeding. There's always the chance the of infection, but he'll live as long as you need him to at any rate.'

'Fine,' Gareth said shortly, already sounding disinterested. 'Patch him up and put him in the car with the others.' He turned and disappeared from sight.

The woman was agitating a bottle of something in her hands. 'This will hurt,' she said, a faint gleam to her eyes. Then in a smooth motion she took the lid off the bottle and doused first the front and then the back of the wound.

Daryl bit down hard on the urge to howl, a hiss still escaping his clenched teeth.

She packed the wound with gauze and bandaged his shoulder, frowning under her pinched nose and poking him again until he'd been forced to sitting position and so she could wrap it over his shirt and across his chest and back.

'Don't move it and keep pressure on it,' she had barked, and sure enough, the bleeding had stopped whilst he'd been able to follow those directions seated in the railcar with the others. But between being dragged out of the car to the killing room, the explosion, and fighting their captors and the dead who were flooding the compound in increasing numbers, the bandage was pink and sticky with seeping blood.

He kept his forearm pressed into his stomach as they ran back towards the rail car, but every step still sent a jolt of pain through his body.

But he'd dealt with pain before. He stuffed it into a corner of his mind, acknowledged but not dwelt on as he focused on the more immediate dangers.

Fortunately the dead were still fairly sparse in the area around the railcar. Rick tore the door open and their people spilled out, tearing through the dead with their hand fashioned weapons and a matter of moments later they were tumbling over the fence into the relative safety of the woods.

Daryl held back, Rick beside him covering their rear with a stolen automatic. After an instant there was only the two of them. Rick gestured towards the fence, still firing, but Daryl shook his head.

He couldn't do it whilst she was still in there.

Rick's eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth, but then he nodded shortly, holding out the automatic.

'Nah brother,' Daryl said. The dozen people on the other side of the fence needed the protection of that weapon more than him - and his aim would be shitty since he'd have to fire one handed. 'I'll meet you where we buried the bag.'

His brother's face was grim, and he tucked the rifle under his arm to extend a stolen blade he had tucked through his belt. Daryl nodded, tucking his own gun under his arm so he could stow the blade in his belt and then they were both away. Rick over the fence and Daryl weaving unevenly through the dead in the direction of the door Asha had disappeared through.

Inside it was cool and dark, and blessedly largely empty. The dead hadn't made it in yet and the living were mostly outside. Daryl ran, as fast as he could manage, as fast as he dared really, feeling uncomfortably naked without his crossbow even though he'd struggle to lift it at the moment. Taking corners on instinct, he growled in frustration when at least one turn led to a dead end and he had to double back. Every now and then the raised voices of Termites echoed, forcing him to slow his reckless charge.

Eventually he found himself at the end of long hall opening onto a factory floor. He hesitated an instant in the door, scoping the area. It looked deserted, but as he lifted his foot the door of the enclosed office across the floor scrapped open and a thin rat faced men stepped out, pistol in hand.

Daryl frowned, troubled by a hint of familiarity for a moment before he placed the man as one of the pieces of scum standing with Gorman when Asha had been dragged away. Rat face pulled the door closed, and jiggled it to make sure it had caught properly and turned in Daryl's direction with a self satisfied smirk across his face.

The primal part of Daryl's brain connected those circumstances into nothing that meant well for Asha and flooded him with something white hot and sharp.

Teeth bared, he pressed himself into the shadows of the corridor as the man came across the factory floor in his direction. Pistol at shoulder height, finger on the trigger, he tracked his steps by sound, stepping out at the last moment. The barest flicker of surprise crossed the man's face before his head snapped back, blooming gunpowder burn and a hole where his nose had been. Snarl still in his throat, Daryl kicked him over, recovering the keys from his back pocket and the handgun from where it had tumbled to the ground.

The office was empty and he took the stairs against the far wall two at a time, ignoring the roll of fear in his stomach at what he might find.

The door at the top was locked, but yielded after a quick fumble with his new keys.

The shock of it was like a fist to the guts and he struggled to breathe, then the animal part of his brain started looking for someone to hurt. Asha hung limp, strung up from an exposed rafter by a rope around her wrists, wearing nothing but a bra and unbelted pair of jeans. Her face when she lifted it was a mass of bruises, thin dribbles of blood running from her lip and the base of her throat – and somehow it was still the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

Her eyes rolled in his direction with a mix of hatred and fear and resignation that cut him to the core. But then they widened and he saw a flash of familiar green as she focused on him, and she started sobbing uncontrollably, whole body shaking against the bonds wrapped around her wrists. He crossed the space in a handful of quick strides, wrapping his good arm around her and ignoring the pain in his bad arm, lifting her off the ground and crushing it to him.

She smelt of blood and tears and a lump formed in his throat as he buried his face in the side of her neck.

She clung to him.

'I thought you were dead,' she moaned between sobs. 'Oh God Daryl, I thought you were gone. Gorman said you were dead.' Then she snapped suddenly ridged. 'Gorman. He's dead, but not…' He felt her nod against his cheek. 'Over there.'

Daryl set her down gently, reluctant to let go of her at all. Gorman stared empty eyed at the ceiling and Daryl had to apply a fair amount of brute force to pull the blade out of his chest. He felt a sudden swell of pride at Asha for taking the bastard down. The blade made a profoundly satisfying crunch as he drove it through the pig's temple, noting at a glance that it was Nash's blade as he pulled it out to cut Asha down.

She flung her arms around his neck as soon as her weight settled back on her heels, tightening as though she never intended on letting him go.

He gave an involuntary grunt at the pang it caused his shoulder, but anywhere else and he'd have been happy to keep her there. There was concern in her eyes as her hands flew to the damp bandaging. 'How bad?

'It's fine,' he grunted. 'Let's get the hell out of here.'

Asha let him go reluctantly, rubbing her wrists, eyes focusing with determination. She gestured towards the door on the far wall. 'We have to get that door open.'

'Baby we ain't got time.'

'We do,' Asha said, tugging her t shirt on and turning to her boots. 'Beth's in there.'

Daryl froze. He'd barely let himself think of Beth since passing the car in the garage – other than to fill Maggie in on the little he was able to whilst they were locked in the rail car. It wasn't that he'd forgotten her, but other fears had been more urgent.

You had to deal with certainties before you could deal in possibilities.

Asha knelt as if to start searching Gorman's pockets and then stopped, hands hovering. 'Dammit,' she swore. 'Ryke took the bloody keys.'

'Rat faced man?' he asked, already swiping his pockets.

Asha nodded.

He glanced back at the door, seeing the keys abandoned on the floor - a step inside the door when he'd first seen Asha.

He crossed over, flicking them back across the room to Asha who fumbled them and then paused, key in the lock when he stopped right behind her shoulder.

'Don't crowd her,' she said, crease between her brows.

He looked at her questioningly and she shook her head slightly, lips pressed together. 'She's been here a little while now, and it hasn't been easy.'

He frowned, but took a step back.

Asha gestured towards the bed with her head. 'Why don't you pick that up and make sure we're not interrupted.'

He followed the line of her eyes automatically, blinking a couple of times as he saw his crossbow jutting off the edge of the bed.

He heard the lock click and Asha call softly to Beth as he picked the weapon up. He hefted the weight with a feeling of satisfaction - as though he'd finally managed to scratch a bothersome itch - as his fingers slipped into the familiar groves in the grip.

Beth was just coming through the door as he turned back, ragged and with a haunted look in her eyes that compressed his belly with cold rage. He almost wished Gorman was alive so he could have the pleasure of killing him himself. Beth clung to Asha's arm, Asha murmuring quietly to her.

'It's just Daryl, Beth. You remember Daryl.'

The young woman looked at him blankly for a minute, then there was a wary recognition in her eyes.

'Hi Beth,' he muttered gently.

'Daryl,' she said quietly, as though testing the word out.

'That's right,' Asha encouraged. 'We have to go with him now. We're getting out of here.'

Beth nodded. 'Ok,' she said a little more firmly.

Asha nodded at him, and nodded back - small acknowledgement of the relief he felt at putting their backs to the place. He slung his bow across his good shoulder, handed Asha one of the guns and led them towards the door.

[A/N: As usual, would love to know what you think!]