It had started as a little sniffle and a scratchy throat. Now, two days later it had turned into a barking cough that rattled her chest each time her breath snagged in her lungs. He'd wanted to stay in the tool shed longer, where she would be warm, but they'd been caught off guard by a herd of Walkers moving through the area. The staggering group had appeared as specks in the distance, one or two at first, but they had kept coming, swelling to numbers almost large enough to fill the tree line.

Daryl and Judith had packed quickly, tossing their things into their packs. They'd ducked around the back of the shed and run in the opposite of the herd's projected direction. The woods had provided some protection and they ran until Daryl was confident that the Walkers had not seen them. When they finally stopped, panting next to a towering oak, he stopped to look at the little girl. The colour had drained from her face and she clutched her doll tighter as she leaned against the trunk.

"C'mon," he took her hand in his and started walking again, pulling her along behind him. As they walked, her fevered forehead slowly came to rest against the inside wrist.

She didn't complain the entire afternoon as they travelled, hand-in-hand, though her weary body slowed until she was barely lifting her legs high enough to clear the snow. They followed the scarred trees until they reached the highway where Daryl paused in recognition. His eyes darted around until they settled on the bronze car where they had left supplies and a message for Sophia all those years before. The white chalked writing had long since melted and disappeared and the food had been taken as well. Daryl stared at the spot where not a trace of their search for the lost little girl remained.

Turning to the side he stooped low and picked Judith up. He settled her on his side and pulled her closer until her face was buried into his neck. She coughed miserably again, but her breathing quickly evened out and she went slack against him, one arm draped loosing around his shoulders while the other hung limply across his chest.

The farm came into view and he looked around for any signs of the Walkers who had taken it. The fences that had once held cattle had rotted and fallen away and the barn was nothing but a heap of charred, decaying wood. The scorched ground stretched out in the direction from which they had come and he realized that the fire had spread clear across several properties.

The Winnebago was an unrecognizable piled of metal and fiberglass, twisted and distorted with the heat of the flames.

The door to the house had been forced open and it was clear that someone had been camping out. The place had been ransacked for supplies and apparently anything useful. Daryl hoped that they would be long gone. The sleeping child had grown heavy in his arms and he moved toward the living room to put her down, but froze in the doorway.

A long arc of blood streaked across the wall and the fireplace, aged and dried into a rusty colour. What was left of the corpse of a decaying on man lay splayed across the floor, a shotgun barrel still resting against the blown away roof of his mouth, his teeth broken and jagged against the metal.

Daryl turned away from the mess and headed up the creaky old stairs towards Hershel's old room. If they were lucky the roof and fireplace would be intact enough for them to get a decent night's sleep. The house felt odd and almost haunted as he made his way through it to the room. The walls ached with the ghosts of those who they had lost in this place, raising goosebumps on Daryl's arms and legs.

He pushed his way into Hershel's room and laid Judith on the bed, careful to guide her head onto the pillow slowly. She turned over, her back to him, not seeming to notice the water stained and dusty state of the pillow. Her body curled into a fetal position and her thumb found its way into her mouth, a habit that she had only managed to curb while she was awake.

Daryl pushed off his pack and got to work while she slept.

The water, straight from the fire, steamed as he poured it into the tub in the bathroom. Judith had been sleeping for hours and he had used the time to tidy up and collect any supplies that had been left. Whoever had come through the house had picked it clean, even taking the food that Hershel had stored in the cold room in the basement. Daryl had been surprised to see the room emptied, considering that the door was tucked into the stone wall almost completely hidden by the furnace. Desperation made people do amazing things sometimes, though.

Turning his attention back to the present, Daryl dipped his fingertips into the water to test the temperature. Satisfied that it would be fine once the final pot boiled, he stepped back into the bedroom. The steam from the boiling water had helped to ease the congestion in the sleeping girl's chest. Daryl made his way over to her and prodded her awake by pushing her damp hair off her warm forehead.

"C'mon, sweetheart," he helped her sit up and pulled her shirt over her head. She watched him from beneath heavy eyelids as he undressed her and then carried her into the bathroom wrapped up in the blanket from the bed.

"Bath?" She asked, gripping the porcelain side of the tub as he lowered her into it. She almost smiled, but her expression quickly turned into a frown again.

After seeing that she was settled, Daryl quickly went back into the room and got the final pot of water. As he passed the toilet, he paused and looked at the shelf above it. Reaching up his fingers traced the label on one of the items there. Decidedly, he picked up the dusty bottle and went over to where she was sitting, watching him. He offered her a small smile, which she didn't return, and then flicked open the cap on the bottle with his thumb.

Judith eyed him suspiciously as he poured some of the blue liquid into the bath. "Wassat?" She asked, her voice hoarse.

"Magic," he told her, putting the bottle on the side of the tub. Holding the pot up high, he tipped it over let the water splash at her feet. The waterfall started to foam and create bubbles. He looked up to find the sick child still frowning.

"S'not magic," she pouted. "S'just bubbles."

Daryl sighed and reached out to lay the back of his hand on her forehead, cheek, and then the base of her neck. He frowned too at the heat he found there.

XXXX

It had been months since the prison had fallen and Daryl had been forced to flee on his own with the baby. He'd hugged the outskirts of the woods, moving from house to house and hoping that he would eventually run into someone from the group. The seasons had eased into the winter so he'd had plenty of time to prepare by gathering supplies and figuring out the migration patterns of the herds of Walkers in the area. Eventually they had settled in a small apartment above a gas station where the windows had already been barred off.

He'd spend the days hunting in the woods, the baby strapped to a chest in the sling he had made using a bed sheet. She'd grown bigger and heavier over the months and she could sit up now if he pulled her into the position. They'd gone back to the daycare to collect more diapers, but the formula had been cleaned out already, so he fed her boiled broth and vegetables from cans.

Today he was hoping that he would find something larger that he could dry out and package up for rations when they moved on. He hadn't had any luck in finding anything though, because the baby wouldn't quiet down. Sighing, he pulled back the sling to peer in at the red-faced infant who hadn't stopped crying all morning. He'd tried everything: food, diaper, rocking her… he'd even sang her a goddamn song and she still hadn't let up.

After sticking his knife back into his belt, Daryl untied the knock at the base of his neck and slipped his hands under the baby's arms. He held her out to look her over; she seemed perfectly fine. Which meant she was crying for No. Fucking. Reason.

"You don't stop cryin' and we'll starve," he reasoned. When she didn't quiet he looked around the woods. She was probably attracting every damn Walker for miles. He looked back at Judith, her head thrown back as she bellowed and her tight fists trembling and he felt anger and frustration rise in his chest. He resisted the urge to give her a shake, but his grip tightened as his fingers twisted around the sheet.

"Fine," he barked. "You wanna starve, tha's just fine!" Bending over, he deposited her on the frosty ground and turned his back on her. He stalked away, kicking a pile of leaves out of his way, his muscles worked up into tight knots in his neck and arms. The sound of her crying faded as did his own rage as he picked his way over the forest terrain. Away from her. By the time he'd reached a fork in the path, about twenty feet away, his steps faltered and he paused. Taking a deep breath, he rolled and cracked his neck, relieving the tension that had built up there.

Slowly, he turned around to look at the baby, sitting on the ground, her bare legs crossed over in front of her and her eyes screwed shut as she wailed at the canopy of trees above her. He looked closer and he could make out the trembling of her tiny limbs and his heart twisted painfully, catching him off guard.

Quickly, he made his way back over to her until they were standing toe to toe, his muddy worn boots touching her tiny bare feet. Her eyes opened and she looked up at him through thick glassy tears, her chest shuddering with each sob that escaped her.

Leaning down, he scooped her up and held her to his chest, fixing the sheet so that it covered her bare legs. Slowly he started to sway his upper body, rocking her back and forth. Using one hand he picked the bark and twigs out of her hair and off her blanket.

"Shhhhhh."

Her cries quieted into hiccups at the motion and her rigid body relaxed until her head came to rest on his chest. "I ain't goin' nowhere," he promised, rubbing her back in slow circles. "… just please shut the fuck up."

Daryl spent the next few days picking through the rubble and mess inside the house to find whatever was useful. He'd managed to find some of the medical supplies that the group had left behind: some bandages, gauze, and tape. There had been some food in the kitchen too, enough to keep them comfortable for a few days while Judith recovered.

At night he dreamed that the others had come back and that he didn't have to shoulder the burden of caring for Judith on his own anymore. It seemed like he'd forgotten what they looked like because they always came back as faceless fluttering ghosts in his periphery. "Daryl!" Judith would scream, bouncing at his side, one of her tiny hands holding his while the other pointed off to somewhere he couldn't see. But he knew they were there…

He slept fitfully in the antique chair in the corner of the room, his legs propped up on a tipped over plastic container. The contents had been emptied and strewn around the room.

"Daryl!" Her voice called out to him and she shifted in the chair. When his name came again his eyes snapped open and he looked across the room to find Judith sitting up in bed, hot tears sliding down her cheeks as she cried. He shot to his feet and rushed over to her side.

"What is it?" He asked, reaching out to rest his hand on her slender shoulder.

Judith held her doll out with both hands clutching its squishy sides. She was still crying and breathing rapidly.

Daryl squinted at the doll in the darkness, barely able to make it out in the dim firelight. His eyes swept its raggedy brown wool hair and his soiled apple printed dress, but didn't see anything out of the ordinary. Reaching out he rested the back of his fingertips on her forehead; she was still running a temperature. "Get back to sleep, was just a dream."

Judith shook her head, her brown hair flicking at the movement. "Beanie ain't got no eyes," her lower lip trembled and she held the doll out closer to him. "Can't see nothin' if Beanie ain't got no eyes."

Taking the doll from her outstretched arms, he held it closer so he could see its face more clearly. Sure enough the black dots that had once been painted on were faded away. "It's just a doll," he told her. "She don't need eyes." He tossed the doll back onto her lap and got up to leave. He was stopped by a tiny hand closing around his index finger.

"If she ain't go no eyes they'll get her and eat her up," she told him, her glassy eyes shimmering in the flames of the fire.

Daryl huffed and took the doll from her again. Moving across the room he dug through the pile of things he had collected from downstairs and picked up a black marker. He could barely see what he was doing in the dark bedroom as he uncapped it and drew two small circles on either side of "Beanie's" raised nose. He jammed the marker back into its cap and stalked back over to the bed where he found that Judith had fallen asleep, her thumb jammed into her mouth.

Sighing, he lifted her arm and tucked the doll back into place. He paused, watching her chest rise and fall as she slept, then leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

They stayed at the house for almost two weeks according to the rudimentary calendar that Daryl kept in his head. Before long, Judith was back to her usual inquisitive and bouncing self. She went on hunts with him again and explored the closet in Beth and Maggie's old rooms.

On their final days there, Daryl was doing a final sweep of the livingroom when he came across an old dog-eared photograph. His eyes swept over the three smiling faces that were frozen in time: a man, his wife, and their son. Settling on his knees he pushed the paper and debris around on the floor that had surrounded the body of the dead man that they had found their first day there. Daryl had long since dragged the corpse outside, but he hadn't paid much mind to the rest of the room.

Pushing papers aside he revealed another glossy image, this one of the man and woman dressed for their wedding, enclosed in one-another's arm, a small white chapel blurry in the green background. Sitting back on his ass, Daryl's fingers traced the smiling faces that had come together to create the fresher one that he had grown to love. He tucked the pictures into his back pocket and searched the room but came up with nothing else. It seemed the dead man had used the rest as kindling for his fire.

Daryl made his way upstairs to Beth's old bedroom to find Judith playing with some glass dolls. He cleared his throat and she looked up at him. She watched him in silent curiosity as he sat down on the bed. "I found somethin' you might like," he told her, digging into his back pocket. She stood and made her way over to him, stopping when she was pressed against his knee. "That there," he pointed to the photo, "is your mama… your daddy, and that's your big brother, Carl."

Judith took the pictures from his hands and looked them over, her innocent face filled with wonder.

Daryl got to his feet quickly and stepped around her, taking the time to ruffle her hair before he left the room.

When he found her later, she already had her coat on and was zipping up her backpack on Hershel's old bed. He watched her pick it up and slide it over one arm and onto her back before slipping her other arm through the other strap.

Daryl's eyes flicked to the bed where she had left the photographs on the blanket. "What's this?" He asked, nodding to them.

"Ain't 'lowed to bring no toys," she answered simply, turning towards him.

Pushing off the doorframe, he walked to the bed and picked up the photos. "These ain't toys," he told her, unzipping her pack. "You hold onto these."