Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead, nor am I one of the Walking Dead. For if I were in the Walking Dead universe, I would be long dead and long gone.

Author's Note: Thank you everybody for the kind reviews! I love them all. As everybody else has noted, Daryl's not doing so "hot," which leads us to seeing a bit more of a vulnerable side to him. As his world starts to crumble around him, so do those walls, and I wanted to show a few peaks that the lil' boy that he used to be. So, I hope you enjoy the delirium as much I enjoyed writing it. But overall, I just hope you...

Enjoy!

Chapter Five

Up close, the cliff wasn't really much to look at. It was covered mostly with crumbling sandstone with a few tenacious mesquites grabbing with long rooty claws for purchase. Daryl's feet slipped on the scree, and his hands were already bleeding from so many stumbles as he barely caught himself in time before he slid all the way back down again. But there was a dark oval up ahead. He was pretty sure it was a cave. Well, probably not a true cave; it was more likely to be just some random open spot, but it was shelter. He focused on it with all of his remaining clarity.

It was getting dark outside. The sun would have told him it was only around four in the afternoon if his eyes could have focused that long, but all he knew was that it was starting to grow dim around him. He had to reach the cave-place soon. He knew that this was probably as far as he was going to get.

He kept remembering a dog that he used to pretend that he owned. He didn't own it, not really. His father would have never let him own a dog, but there had been a stray that used to sleep behind his old elementary school. She had wiry gray hair and droopy ears. He hadn't known that many names, but he called her Lady, which she answered to well enough. She would eat whatever scraps Daryl could smuggle out to her, and her tail would wag like the wind whenever she saw him. Around that time, she seemed to be the only damn living thing that was ever happy to see him.

Until one day, right around Daryl's twelfth birthday, he found her wedged in behind the dumpster. She growled at him when he reached for her, but there wasn't much spirit in it. He sat down and asked, "What's the matter, Lady? Somethin' wrong?" That was when he saw the membrane was up around her eyes. She looked sick. He sat all day with her, skipping school in favor of the dog's company, as he talked with her about everything that was on his mind. Every so often, he would pause to watch the way her tail would wag happily.

Pretty soon, it had started to get dark, so he had been forced to pick himself up and head home to his trailer. He didn't really think about her again until he had dragged himself to school the next morning. Even then, he had been more focused on trying to decide if he wanted to ditch school again or not when the dumpster had entered his sights. That was when he found her, stiff and dead, still lying behind the dumpster on top of somebody's lost sweater. Old age, maybe. He never found out what killed her.

But now, forcing his trembling legs to climb, his vision graying out, and his senses of taste and smell utterly gone, he realized he knew why Lady chose the quiet spot behind the dumpster for her death chamber. She hadn't been waiting for him, to see him one last time before she passed on. She had been motivated by the innate desire to crawl away and lie in a dark and peaceful place, lying on soft, familiar things as she slowly past on. He understood this now. Merle had understood it, too. Death was a private matter, ultimately. And when one's time had come, as he now knew in some bone-deep way that his had, it compelled him to do the same as Lady. He just wanted to find some out-of-the-way place where he could burrow in, hidden away from prying animal eyes and noses, at least until it was done.

And if he was lucky, the sun would bake his reanimated corpse before he ever clamped his jaws around any unsuspecting victim.

He clawed for the next purchase, and one of his fingernails peeled back slowly, exactly like a postage stamp, the self-sticking kind. It didn't really hurt, and it didn't really bleed much. He eyed the wound without much interest before going back to pushing himself forward. It wasn't too much further now. Then, he could lie down. There weren't any old sweaters around to make a nest out of out here, but that was okay. It would be enough to just crash for a while. He was so very, very tired.

x X x

Karen took Carol's idea and ran with it. A water bowl was gulfed down and then Beatle was reminded of Daryl's scent before he took off. Rick didn't like putting all of their faith into one untrained bloodhound, but he also knew that it the best shot that Daryl had. He had to take it. He had to have a little faith, as impossible as that was.

Rick had never worked with dogs before, but he had always figured that they were probably reliable. He sure as hell trusted the dog's nose more than his own, and he knew that dogs didn't have the luxury of being able to second-guess themselves. They were always eager to work. But Beatle was running further and further into the desert, away from the streets and the last remnants of civilization, and it just made Rick cringe at the idea. Why would Daryl go this direction? He should have headed for the foothills in the northeast where there was shade even if no obvious water. At least he would have had a more protected environment. Beatle just whined with excitement as he pushed on, chasing some scent that they could not see.

Hershel's truck was stockpiled with more than just supplies for the pathetic Search and Rescue team they had here. He also had plenty of supplies that Glenn and Maggie had brought back from their last run including an IV, several bags of Ringer's lactate, electrolyte-replacing liquids, and some homemade Oral Rehydration Solution.

The sun was starting to set. Time was pressing. Rick felt it like a huge weight shoving him down, making his lungs tight and his ears ring. Forty-eight hours and Daryl's chances would be just about nil. Rick didn't need to know anything about the desert to know that. That was police recovery procedure. After the first 48, you started to look for a body, but they didn't have the manpower or time for that. They had until sundown before it would all be over with. Just a precious four, maybe five hours. That was all.

The difference between finding a friend and leaving another walker behind.

Beatle gave another sudden bark as he wriggled at the end of the leash held by Glenn, who was doing his best to keep up the running speed as he let the dog drag him along. He was red in the face already, but he was doing a much better job than Karen had been.

"We could just let him go, all of us ride in the truck," Carol said through little bursts of air. She was doing her best to keep up.

"We might miss something or lose sight of Beatle on accident." Rick met her eyes and saw his own worry reflected back.

"Running it is," she agreed, not arguing for the moment.

The dog uttered another strangled bark and nearly yanked Glenn to his knees at his sudden eagerness to move faster.

x X x

"This isn't so bad." Rick surveyed the little cave. "This ought to do just fine."

Daryl didn't nod. In the past hour, he had begun to feel very odd. He couldn't swallow for one thing. He never thought much about swallowing, but now that he could no longer do it, he wanted to all the damn time. Every so often, he would get the shakes. But it wasn't just him trembling, like from a cold; it was unlike anything he had ever felt before. It was more like a dog coming out of the water and shaking himself all over. When those happen, he had to just lie down, right where he was, and let them run their course. They fucking hurt.

The cave was tiny and littered with all kinds of shit. There were little animal skeletons everywhere, and when he sat down, his hand mashed down on a tiny skull like that of a bird or a rodent, and it exploded into powder under his fingertips. It was slightly cooler in here out of the sun and protected from the ever-present wind. It was much, much better.

Rick was standing outside the cave, which didn't make sense. It was a pretty damn good incline – Daryl would know, he just scaled the entire damn thing – and yet he looked like he was standing on level ground.

"C'mere and lay down. Just rest." Carol was sitting next to him, immaculate and fresh-looking in her cotton shirt and jeans. And his vest draped over her chest. She had only worn it once to tease him. She had asked if she had looked good in it. He had tried not to smile as he told her to give it back. He should have said yes. Carol patted her thigh gently. "That's all you need, Daryl. Just a little rest."

Daryl leaned over and pressed his hot cheek against her leg. She was right. It was much better now. She reached out and started to gently run her fingers through his hair in comforting little strokes.

"Pretty romantic," she teased, "wanna fool around?"

"Stop," he groaned.

Her smile softened as her fingers stilled in his hair. "Do you really want me to stop?"

He hesitated before he managed to whisper, "No."

Her fingers continued their soft, comforting combing, and she started to hum a tune that he couldn't identify. His stomach clenched, but after a long painful moment, it finally let go. It didn't hurt long, and Carol's humming cut through the worst of it.

He wondered if bats lived in ultra-tiny caves like this, and then he closed his eyes.

x X x

An hour after they set out, it was clear that Beatle definitely believed that Daryl was around here someplace. He had set a stiff pace, and much of the time, Carol was having a hard time keeping up. She would let the rest of the group go on ahead while she trot-walked behind. They had gone almost ten miles, and she had drunk three bottles of water. She still felt vaguely thirsty.

Though no master of direction, she was pretty sure that they had covered enough distance to cross state lines. They had barely seen any walkers out here, which should have been a relief in itself except that it was pretty easy to figure out why. They were all holed up, mummified, unable to even try to get out and look for a bite. It made her stomach twist with worry for Daryl. She was preparing herself for the worst – for the inevitable. She was trying to paint his face as a walker, just as her baby girl's innocent one had been twisted…

Unwilling tears sprung to her eyes again.

The Hyundai pulled up next to her. Karen sat in the driver's seat, giving Beth some running time while she took a breather in the car. Her window was rolled down as she looked over at Carol.

"Get in. Let's catch up with the others."

Carol let out a relieved breath as she instantly listened, jumping into the passenger seat. Karen shot her an uncertain look.

"Do you really think that he's been out here since yesterday?" she asked.

Carol swallowed back her worry. "Since yesterday morning or so."

"No water at all? Nothing?"

Carol shook her head.

"I'm sorry," Karen said, squinting against the slanting sun.

They drove away to follow the trail of the others. Carol swallowed back another wave of worry as she grabbed another water bottle and scanned the horizon for the dog leading the way.

x X x

He was burning up. His mother had passed out with a cigarette in her lap and instead of being down the street, Daryl was right there with her. Their little house was burning, being swallowed whole. Flames were licking at his arms, and he cried out, soundless over the roar of the fire.

"Shhh," someone breathed. He thought it might be his mother. He didn't want to open his eyes and see her burning before him. He didn't want to see her peeling flesh and blackened char for skin. "It's okay. It'll all be okay."

The cheap wallpaper on the bedroom wall started to crinkle, ripple, and evaporate into the smoke before being engulfed in the yellow flames.

x X x

"Beatle wants to go north here," Beth called over her shoulder. Her face was bright red with exertion from trying to keep up with the panting dog she was holding onto.

Glenn looked more exhausted than his sister-in-law to-be. Rick was actually a little worried about him. "Go sit in the truck," he told him, gently. "Catch your breath."

"So damn hot," Glenn said thickly. "Dunno how anyone could stand it."

"I know. Go."

Glenn went to the truck where Maggie was already waiting. Rick was tired enough and dry enough to follow them, but he couldn't. Not yet.

If they felt this way now with plenty of water, how did Daryl feel? Did Daryl feel anything anymore?

He jogged over the hard-packed ground and kept his eyes on the bloodhound.

x X x

"Stop your damn belly-achin'," Merle said in a surprisingly sympathetic voice. "I'll get ya a cold beer. That'll help."

"Merle, I feel like shit," Daryl tried to say, but his mouth didn't work anymore. Nothing seemed to work. All he could do was lie in bed and wish it would stop. Everything. Come to a fucking standstill.

His brother smelled of cheap beer and marijuana, but it was a strangely comforting combination to the younger Dixon. Merle kneeled down next to his side as he looked him over, his eyebrows knitted in uncharacteristic worry. "Just be still, lil' brother," he murmured. "You're gonna be just fine. Who did this to you? Was it Billy Akers? That asshole jump ya 'gain?"

No, it was fuckin' Dad, he thought, but you already know that. Ya just don't wanna say that shit aloud.

"Don't worry 'bout a thing, baby bro'," he said, turning the worried crease into a smirk. He reached out and patted his cheek with a lot more force than necessary. It kind of hurt. "I'll kick his ass for ya. The bastard won't be messin' with ya ever again. Y'hear me?"

Even though he knew that Billy Akers would end up getting his ass kicked for something he didn't do, the protective tone in his brother's voice made him smile. His lips cracked back open from the movement and blood dribbled down his chin.

x X x

"Christ," Hershel breathed from his spot in the driver seat of the truck. "I bet he's holed up in that overhang ahead. How in the world did he get that far?"

Carol didn't know. The sun was edging lower in the sky, swooping down. She was exhausted, and the slope ahead looked treacherous. She was not completely sure that she could scale it. All of her limbs felt shaky from overexertion. She would at least need a breather. She chewed a stale piece of granola and chased it with spit-warm water.

Beatle uttered a sharp bark.

x X x

"Jesus fuckin' Christ! Just make it stop!" Daryl cried.

Carol paused in the middle of running her hands through her hair to stare down at him as she went stiff and cautious. "Hershel will be here soon," she whispered.

He gave a weary nod. After a moment, her combing continued along with her gentle hums that echoed off of the cavern walls.

x X x

They were all climbing together. Hershel alone remained at the bottom as he watched the group climb. They were each grabbing each other for handholds and groping for rock faces to latch onto. Skirts of dust and tiny cluttering rocks danced down the side of the slope.

Above, Beatle reached the little cave first. He gave a howl. It sounded like triumph, and Rick surged forward.

x X x

"He'll be here soon. You just gotta hold on, Daryl… Just hold on."

"I can't…"