Author's Note: Hello! And welcome to my Walking Dead fic. As you have made it to this point to read this note it means you've read, and some of you favorited and followed, the first chapter and liked it enough to give the second one a read as well. For this, I thank you and I hope to see you again for the third chapter. Any further notes or updates about this fic can be found in my profile as I feel my AN's at the beginning of each chapter detract from the story. Further Disclaimers will be added to the end of the chapter as there will be some.

Disclaimer: As much as I would love to own a Daryl and the rest of The Walking Dead, I don't. AMC does though. The only thing I own in this fic is Jess, her horses, and the plotline. Also, Ain't No Grave belongs to Johnny Cash, I just referenced.

The next day Daryl was pulling through a quiet town in the truck about an hour south of the prison with Michonne riding in the passenger seat and Glenn in the back seat. The sky was dark and threatened to rain more than it already had earlier in the day as they scanned the storefronts for a pharmacy and grocery store so they could get their items and get back to the prison.

He didn't like being out in the open with just the three of them with the Governor still at large. As strong as the three in the truck were, the Governor was insane and unpredictable. He'd leave the hunting of that psycho to Michonne.

He was pulled from his thoughts as the sword wielding woman pointed at the last building on the right side of the street. It was a large grocery store that also had a pharmacy. Glenn sighed in relief as Daryl pulled the truck through the large parking lot. There were only a handful of walkers outside and they could only hope it was the same on the inside.

As soon as the truck came to a stop right outside the entrance, all three were hopping out of the car and quietly approaching the glass door that was busted out ages ago, each one of them with large empty army bags.

Daryl took the lead while Michonne and Glenn flanked him in a tight formation. They took their time checking each aisle for items and walkers, Glenn pulling whatever was left on the shelves that was on their list into Michonne and Daryl's bag as they kept their eyes and ears open, never straying more than a few feet from each other.

By the time they got through all the isles, their bags half full, and approached the pharmacy they all froze as Daryl held up his hand. He'd heard something coming from the storage area of the store, through a door marked "employees only". He motioned them to wait as he approached the door. As he got closer he noticed the fresh blood trail on the floor leading to the double doors. It wasn't a smear but boot prints from one foot until the door that had a smeared bloody hand print about shoulder high.

He approached and peered through the glass panels into the dark. He heard the moaning before he saw the dozen or so walkers that were climbing all over each other to get through the door to the office. He squinted as he could make out a sound over the gurgling moans of the walkers. He pushed the door open just enough to hear a familiar sound. Singing.

It was her. She was singing again, obviously barricaded in the office. His mouth drew into a thin line as he recognized her singing the lyrics to "Ain't No Grave" by Johnny Cash. That couldn't be a good sign.

He moved silently across the floor back to his two friends and motioned for them to follow him to get the rest of their supplies quickly as he mouthed "walkers". He needed a few moments to think about what he was going to do about her while both Michonne and Glenn picked their way through the pharmacy shelves for what they needed. Luckily, even though the store had already been looted, there were a few bottles of medication left that they needed.

Daryl's mind raced while he kept his eyes on the doors to the store area. He knew the lyrics to the song. She had obviously run from the walkers and hid in the office but why? He'd seen her take out over twenty walkers like it was nothing just a few days before, shouldn't this little dozen been within her capabilities? Was the blood hers? Should he risk their safety to find out if she was hurt?

There were more questions than there were answers and he didn't have enough time to think through them. Michonne and Glenn came up behind him and the woman put a hand on his shoulder indicating that they were ready to leave.

He was about to just leave when he caught sight of something he couldn't believe he had missed before. His eyes fell on an elegant recurve bow on the ground under the counter beneath the register. He felt his heart skip a beat or two. It was hers and there was blood on the grip.

Daryl bit back a growl as he turned back to Michonne and Glenn, motioning for them to come close so he could talk.

"There's a girl pinned in a room by about a dozen walkers back there," he whispered as he motioned to the double doors, his internal conflict showing clearly, "I don't wanna put you guys in more danger."

Glenn's eyebrows grew together in question.

"How do you know?" The Asian asked.

"That's her bow," he explained as he pointed to the conspicuous object under the counter, "ain't no walkers gonna try so hard to get in a room if somethin' ain't in it."

"She alone," Michonne asked and glanced over at the bow. Daryl shifted his feet as he replied, trying not to give away his impatience.

"She was when I ran inna her few days ago."

Michonne and Glenn shared a glance. Glenn knew Daryl well, for all his tough façade, it would tear him up if they left someone to die alone like this. Even so, Glenn had to ask the right questions.

"What if she's not alone? What if this is some sort of trap by the Governor?" Glenn asked nervously and looked around as if the insane man would pop up and attack them.

"Up to you," Daryl half shrugged as he looked between the other two members of the group. He was only doing what he thought was right.

Michonne shrugged and Daryl took that as a yes, then he looked to Glenn who seemed to think about it for a few seconds before he nodded.

"What's a few dozen walkers, right?" He said confidently. Once they cleared the path for this girl they could part ways, having done his duty to make the world a little less bleak for someone.

Daryl nodded his thanks to them both and he laid out his plan.

"Alright. We get these supplies to the truck first. After that you," he nodded at Glenn, "pull the truck 'round to tha back by the loadin' dock," he paused as he grabbed the bow from the shelf and put it through his arm, "if we ain't out in twenty you haul ass."

Glenn grimly nodded as they got back into formation. They exited the same way they had come in, quietly and in a sweeping formation and much more cautious than before. If there were a dozen walkers in the back there could be more.

Daryl heard the Asian let out a sigh of relief when they emerged from the building and there was still no sign of walkers outside. The three wasted no time in tossing their gear under the tarp in the bed of the truck, Daryl taking a bit more care with the bow than he needed to, and Glenn crawled into the driver's side and started up the engine.

Daryl and Michonne watched Glenn disappear beyond the side of the building before Michonne drew her sword and Daryl checked to make sure the arrow was still properly loaded into the crossbow.

Daryl glanced over at her to make sure she was ready and she motioned with her sword for him to lead the way again, just as the sky opened up and rain started to pelt down on them. They quickly made their way back inside and to the double doors that lead to the back. When they got to the doors, Daryl stopped and looked down at the bloody hand print on the door before he leaned into the swinging doors, the hinges not even making a sound as he stepped in, looking all around the room to make sure the only walkers were the only evil in the room.

He shared a glance with Michonne, who raised an eyebrow in surprise, as the woman's eerie voice reached their ears. She was singing that song he'd first her sing the other day and it gave him the chills again. Her voice was still haunting yet weaker than he remembered and it just confirmed his suspicion that she was injured.

He looked over at the open loading dock at the opposite end of the large room from the office just in time to see Glenn pull up to the edge so they could jump in and run if they needed to. Daryl took a couple more steps into the room and motioned for Michonne to wait until he picked a few off with his crossbow before they jumped in with their blades.

He carefully chose which ones he was going to kill first, hoping that the fact the walkers were practically stacked on top of each other would be good enough to kill two with one shot. He waited a few seconds to line up a double kill and fired, taking out two walkers at once. Luckily, the others hadn't noticed yet so he had enough time to reload pick off two more that looked fresh and fast before the rest of them started to notice the other warm bodies in the room. He quickly dispatched one more that had moved the fastest and swung the bow around behind him on his strap. Pulling his hunting knife from it's holster he looked over at Michonne and they started forward slowly as a unit.

Three more walkers pulled away from the group to come after the two of them and Michonne easily took out the two on the left with two solid swings of her sword while Daryl drove his knife through the other's eye socket.

The commotion had caused all but one of the remaining zombie's to turn and come after them. Daryl took the two on his right while Michonne took the two on his left. He kicked the closest one to him in the abdomen, effectively kicking it back into the wall of the office while he stabbed the other one up through its chin. He removed the knife and threw it expertly between the eyes of the walker he'd kicked just as Michonne finished off her last walker. That left the one.

Michonne took it upon herself to easily lop it's head off before it could even turn to around while Daryl pulled his knife from the head of his last kill. It was then that he realized that the singing had stopped and he quickly pulled the dead walkers out of the way to see if he could get the door open. He raised his eyebrow in surprise when he realized that the door was unlocked and opened toward him instead of swinging into the room. Good thing these walkers were dumb or she'd be dead.

He pulled an arrow from the closest walker and loaded into his crossbow before motioning to Michonne she was to open the door. She pressed her back against the wall next to the frame and waited for Daryl's signal to swing it open so he could sweep the room.

He nodded and the door swung open slowly so it didn't bang against the wall and he swept into the room scanning for any threats and found none. It took him a few seconds for him to see the top of her dark head on the other side of the desk in the room. As he rounded the desk he frowned at what he saw.

It was her and she looked like she'd been through hell and back. She sat rigid on the floor, her flannel shirt and jacket laying beside her leaving her in just a black tank top and her hair tie had fallen out, leaving her hair to hang around her in wet cords, clinging to her arms and bare shoulders and the floor. She had her gun pointed unsteadily at him with her left hand which was covered in blood, while her right hung limply beside her and he saw a darker spot on her tank top and jeans all the way down her right leg. She was deathly pale except for the pink tinge to her cheekbones, her skin shone with sweat, and her chest rising and falling unsteadily. He suddenly feared the worst for her but he held it from his expression expertly as their eyes met, noticing that they were dull and glazed, a far cry from the wild eyes he remembered from a few days ago.

"You bit?" He asked as he kept his crossbow pointed at her.

She shook her head as she dropped her gun arm as if it weighed a ton, obviously deciding he wasn't a threat. She shut her eyes and rested her head back against the wall. She was too exhausted to keep up her tough as nails façade anymore.

Daryl lowered his crossbow and slung it back behind him as he approached her. Michonne took that moment to enter the room with her sword still drawn, ready to defend Daryl if this woman lashed out.

Daryl's expression softened a bit as the woman looked up at him beneath her lashes. He knew that look. It was the same look Andrea had given him when they found her bitten in Woodbury: the look of someone who believed their time was up. He slowly and carefully knelt next to her and tried to get a better look at her wound and noticed her right shoulder was in an odd position, obviously dislocated. She looked away from him down to the gun and he tensed, thinking she might be about to use it. Her smirk took him aback.

"The last'n ain't fer ya, peach," she promised in a tired voice, her southern drawl much more pronounced in her weakened state. She certainly wasn't from around here with that accent, her long vowels and 'r's and dropped 'g's more pronounced than he'd ever heard, even in Georgia. More Backwoods Country than Southern Belle like most women around the area.

He just nodded as he realized what she meant. She had fully intended to do the same thing Andrea had done and end it herself. However, he still wanted to take a look at this wound. If there was something within his power to save her, he was going to do it. He didn't just take out a dozen walkers and put Michonne in danger for nothing.

"Can I see? Just wanna make sure you ain't lyin 'bout bein' bit," he reasoned as he waited for her consent.

She seemed to seriously consider it for a few moments before she nodded. She was too weak to care if someone touched her. It's not like she had long for this world anyway.

"Ya can bet tha farm on it. but go 'head," she added moving her hand away from her side out of his way, her eyes watching his every move. She knew that he wasn't going to hurt her but every instinct in her body screamed at her to get away from him but she was able to control it.

Daryl's face was stoic as lifted her blood soaked tank, feeling heat of her as his fingers brushed her skin. She shied away a bit at his touch, as if she was afraid of it before he saw a bullet hole right above her hipbone. He used a dry part of her tank to wipe away the blood to see her marred skin better and it caused her to shiver. His eyes darted to hers apologetically before making a closer inspection.

He'd had a wound very similar back on the farm and had survived it. This was a through and through bullet wound that had barely gotten her. He was no expert but he had a strong feeling that if they got the bleeding stopped and her fever down with some antibiotics she should be able to bounce back.

He looked up at Michonne with hope in his eyes and she just raised an eyebrow. He gently lowered the tank back over the wound and tried to talk some sense into her.

"Nut up, girl. It ain't nuthin' a little band-aid and whiskey can't fix," he claimed confidently.

The injured woman's lips turned up in a slight smirk at the thought of alcohol as she looked up and noticed Michonne. She looked between the two of them.

"Southern Comfort does sound purdy good right 'bout now," she confided with a wistful smile before looking back up at him. "Tha hell are ya, anyways," she asked.

"Someone who can help," Michonne answered above her flatly as she kept an eye out on the door.

She used her good arm to press her side to seek some form of relief from the pain and he saw her blink as if she were trying to clear her vision. She looked up into his steel-blue eyes and he saw a flicker of hope in hers. She'd been through the ringer but he had a gut feeling she was a fighter and wasn't ready to give up if she was given a chance.

Her eyebrows drew together as she pressed him again for information.

"What's yer name?"

Daryl hesitated before humoring her because it wasn't like she could hurt him with his name.

"Daryl," he answered.

"Jess," she affirmed with a hint of that fire he'd seen in her eyes the other day.

"So what's it gonna be, Jess?"

He waited what seemed like several minutes as she looked away and he watched her think, all kinds of emotions playing over her face and reflecting in her fever and pain glazed eyes. Finally her eyes found his again, her jaw set and her eyes hard.

"Don't thank I'm ready yet," she confided before she glared at him, "but that bullet's mine 'n' don't ya dare let me turn inna one of 'em cursed flesh eaters," she added nodding to the discarded gun. "If cain't do it, you have to."

Daryl nodded as he looked up at Michonne, almost as if he was asking for permission. She just shrugged. She wasn't afraid of the woman on the floor, she could hardly hold up her head.

So now it was time for the questions they had come up with recently to ask people to find out if they were safe enough to bring back to the prison. They were just starting to get on their feet there and had decided it was ok to bring in people but they had to have some way of telling if those they brought in were worthy.

"How many walkers ya killed?"

Jess tilted her head at the question, wondering why he was asking it but she answered anyway because she didn't really have any other options. Besides, she was just too tired to keep questioning him about his motives.

"More'n I can count. At least two hundred since Mississippi," she answered in a quiet voice.

The Dixon just stared at her blankly for a few moments in disbelief. This girl had come all the way from Mississippi and killed hundreds of walkers? The walkers he could begin to believe after what he saw her do the other day but to travel alone all the way from Mississippi was unheard of.

"How many people ya killed?"

The injured woman was on autopilot and answering in a flat voice as her eyes took on a far away look. She took several seconds before she answered, her eyes haunted and expression grim.

"Three."

Daryl cringed because he knew that helping her would depend on how she answered the next question.

"Why?"

She finally looked back at him, her eyes suddenly clear and her focus on him was a bit unnerving.

"Two men that ambushed me 'n' my sister in Mississippi that thought no law meant that they could get away with cuttin' up women while rapin' 'em," she answered emotionless as she looked down at her limp arm.

It took a few seconds for Daryl to follow her gaze and what he saw made his stomach turn. Starting at her wrists were several faded, thin lines of scars with a few wider and longer ones spaced between and he followed them until they disappeared beneath her tank top. It had obviously been a while since it happened because the thin ones were hard to see and the others could have been mistaken for just usual wear and tear in the new zombie ridden world. However, she'd only listed two of her three.

"The third?"

Jess looked back up at him with eyes that held an emotion he knew all too well. Hopelessness.

"My sister. She was bit."

He glanced up at Michonne who had wide eyes and when they met, they shared a knowing look before Michonne nodded. This woman had been through so much and to die this way after fighting so hard to stay alive would suck and their world sucked enough as it was. Besides, as dangerous as she seemed to be, she'd only killed in self-defense or for mercy.

Daryl turned his attention back to the tortured woman on the floor. They needed to get moving.

"Can you stand," he asked, knowing what the answer could be.

"I could try," she growled looking quite agitated with herself. Daryl knew how she felt because he couldn't stand to feel helpless.

"I got ya," Daryl grunted as he tucked her gun into his waistband. He noticed her bag and quiver still full of arrows in the corner and motioned for Michonne to grab them as he tossed her Jess' shirt.

He saw the look of terror cross her face before she quickly got it back under control. Now that he knew her story, he was a little worried about touching her and how she would react. He'd been lucky so far she hadn't reacted violently to him but he wasn't about to let her try to walk with her injuries and being so weak. She wouldn't make it two steps.

"You good," he asked quietly, indicating he wanted to make sure she wouldn't fight back if he picked her up.

Without looking at him, she just nodded, noticing that she'd put a carefully guarded expression on her face.

"This is gonna hurt like a bitch," he observed as he carefully picked up her arm attached to the dislocated shoulder and placed it across her body before sliding his arm beneath her legs and one around her waist, careful to avoid the wound.

She bit her lip and flinched at his touch and took a deep breath before she wrapped her good arm around his shoulders so it wouldn't get trapped between them and nodded at him that she was ready. He could tell she really didn't like that he was touching her.

As gently as he possible could he lifted her close to him and felt her tense with a sharp intake of breath but that was all. This girl was tougher than he'd imagined and it filled him with an odd sense of pride that he'd been the one to find her. She was also lighter than he was expecting for her five foot eight inch muscled toned frame. He could feel her muscles across her back and arms, built from all the times she'd drawn her bow, and the muscles in her thighs and calves from all the riding she'd done. Even though she was well toned, she still had the curves a real woman should have.

Daryl quickly and steadily left the office with Jess in his arms while Michonne picked up their stuff, slinging Jess' pack and quiver over her shoulder and pulling Daryl's arrows from the corpses. When they reached the edge of the dock she hopped down and threw their stuff in the back under the tarp as Daryl carefully set Jess back down so he could jump off the dock and open the door to the truck. He was angry to hear Glenn in the front seat.

"She's coming with us?" He questioned warily.

"We should just leave her ta die?" He hissed quietly at Glenn as he glanced back at the injured woman on the high dock who had awkwardly scooted herself into a sitting position to the edge to wait for his help.

Glenn looked steadily at Daryl.

"You ask her the questions?"

Fury flashed in Daryl's eyes as he tossed his crossbow across the back seat.

"O' course an' we ain't leavin' her," he retorted as he glared at Glenn, daring the Asian to question him again and was glad to see that Glenn backed down.

"Fine," he said as he turned back to wait for them to load up.

Daryl turned back to the dock to see Jess swaying dangerously while holding her dislocated shoulder to her. As he got closer to her she looked down at him with sad eyes.

"My bow-" she started to say before Daryl placed his hands at her sides right under her breasts, away from her wounds, to lift her.

"We got it," he cut her off while he carefully lifted her off the dock to set her on her feet.

He saw her bite her lip again and eyes close as she gripped his shoulder hard with her good had to help keep her grounded, swaying slightly. Just before her legs buckled beneath her Daryl quickly picked her back up bridal style, her body tense, and turned to the truck, feeling her death grip on his shoulder lessen the closer they got.

Michonne was already in the back seat and she slid over to help Daryl get their new charge situated. He lifted Jess into the truck and sat her as gently as possible down on the leather seats and waited for her to scoot farther into the truck. When she didn't move, he looked up at her and noticed her eyes were barely open, her fatigue and pain was starting to catch up to her.

He swore under his breath as Michonne pulled Jess into the cab to help keep her steady while he went to the bed of the pickup where they had tossed in their supplies and dug until he found a couple of towels. He moved back to the open door to see that Jess had become completely limp, both arms beside her on the seats and her head rolled over on Michonne's shoulder as if it was just too heavy to hold up any longer but her eyes were still partly open, watching him. He wasted no time and pulled up the blood soaked tank top just enough to see her wound, now noticing more scars, and pressed the towels to her entry and exit areas carefully try to stop the bleeding. He was a little worried that she didn't even react to his touch this time or the pressure and just kept staring at him. He didn't know how long it'd been since she'd been shot but with how weak and pale she was from blood loss and with the feverish feel to her skin possibly from infection it had to have been several hours. Which meant if they'd been any later in finding her she'd have probably already have put the bullet through her brain. The sooner they got her to Herschel and doctor S., the better he would feel about the situation.

Daryl motioned for Michonne to take over applying pressure to the wounds and once he was sure she had it he went to shut the door and he heard her speak weakly to Michonne.

"Have ta find 'em," She mumbled before her eyes finally closed and her stubbornness gave way to her worn body.

With one last shared glance with Michonne, who nodded indicating that she would take care of Jess, Daryl shut the back door and quickly hopped up into the passenger's seat. As Glenn pulled out of the parking lot he glanced back at the unconscious woman in the back seat, who was so pale it reminded him of when Herschel had lost so much blood after having his leg cut off. Daryl chewed on the corner of his thumb as he watched the scenery pass by his window.