If Tomorrow Wasn't Such a Long Time

I apologize for the long delay in this chapter. I have had so much on my plate work-wise that I was bluntly burnt out on ideas on how to jump-start this chapter. I hope you all enjoy it. Thanks for continuing to support this story! As always constructive criticism is always welcome. Read, review, enjoy.

Also: I own nothing in regards to The Walking Dead. All rights belong to the copyright holder.

Chapter 11

He opened his eyes. His heart pounded in his head loud like a deafening bass drum. His body was rigid and ached all over, joints, bones, muscles... Everything. Hell, if he could feel pain in his fingernails he was sure he would feel it. He tried propping himself up onto his elbows but his right shoulder gave out beneath him and he fell back onto the cot. He let out a small yelp at the sharp dulling pain from his wound and the rush of air leaving his lungs. He clenched his jaw shut as the pain coursed through his shoulder and down to his fingertips. A strong tingling sensation creeping up and down his arm like thousands of tiny spiders making their way up his body.

"Fuckin' christ." He hissed as he maneuvered onto his left shoulder to get an indicator of where he was. Daryl rubbed the sleep from out of his eyes with the heel of his hand rolling onto his side, looking about the room he was occupying. He looked to still be in his own cell in the prison, his leather vest hanging off the top bunk and quivers sitting neatly in the corner near the sink. He let out a small sigh of relief as he forced himself to sit up, mustering what little strength he had.

Daryl moved to the edge of the bed, grabbing hold of the bunk bar and hoisted himself to his feet. The floor was cool beneath his toes as he gingerly took a step forward. His legs shook under his weight but he would make do with using the walls for support. His fingers clung to the walls trying to find gripping on its smooth surface. He shakily made his way out of his cell and down the catwalk a few feet down the row.

"Carol?" He called as he leaned against the wall trying to catch his breath. His throat parched and his lungs struggling to take in air. He garnered no response causing his pulse to increase its rapid beat. He moved just a little bit faster. "Carol?" He barked again, hoping the sternness in his tone would draw her to him.

"Daryl?"

He looked down towards the direction of the voice and saw Maggie standing in the middle of the cell block. She looked shocked and a little happy to see him up and about, but was hesitant to greet him. Her eyes moving from what he knew to be Carol's empty cell then back to him.

"Where's the baby? Where's Carol?" He asked more earnestly than he wanted to sound. He began making his way back and towards the stairs where Maggie stood.

She bit her bottom lip, averting her eyes to the ground. "We haven't gone to get them." She drawled, fidgeting with the cloth wrapped around her wrist, pulling the loose strands from the frayed ends.

Daryl stopped at the height of the stairs and glowered down at the young woman. "What?" He grunted, trying to hold back snapping at her. His eyes slowly drawing down into narrowed slats.

Maggie removed her attention to the ground and returned back to Daryl, whom she could clearly see was seething at the thought of Carol and Judith left out in the forest on their own. She couldn't lie to him. What would be the point? He would just find out anyway and all hell would rain down upon them either way. "They're still out there."

Daryl didn't want to hear their excuses. He ambled back into his cell and threw his jacket with the leather stitched sleeves on, vest layered on top. He shoved his feet into his boots and stood up quickly doing a once-over of what he would need for his journey making a mental check list of things to grab. He made for his crossbow and looked up to see Maggie standing in his doorway. She had a pleading look on her face, brows furrowed that he would catch the hint and stop. Daryl just ignored her concern and continued looking for his things and throwing them into a backpack. Slinging his crossbow to his shoulder he pushed past her, brushing his right leg alongside the frame of the door wincing. His fingers flew at the pain realizing that he had narrowly missed that stray bullet and instead received a deep graze across his thigh during the firefight. He glanced back at Maggie who moved in to apply pressure to his leg, but he quickly moved away from her, hurriedly making his way down the stairs.

"Hold on a minute. You can't just leave like that. You've got to heal." Cried Maggie, rushing out after him.

"I don't fuckin' care." Daryl snarled, clutching his shoulder. He knew blood was beginning to seep through the bandage that was wound around his shoulder. He could feel the sticky warmth starting to trickle down his torso. He'd ripped his stitches getting up and carelessly moving about his cell grabbing articles for his trip to retrieve Carol and Judith. He had just woken up after being knocked unconscious for the last few days. The combination of lack of sleep and exhaustion had nailed him after having been shot in the shoulder and the impact from falling from the catwalk had not helped either. He remembered that well. His head still throbbed from the large bruised lump where he had met impact with the ground.

"We should have been out there ta get them days ago! Y'all left them out there to die!" He bit back in an accusatory tone, stomping towards the entrance to the prison yard.

"Daryl!" Yelled Rick who was striding alongside him with a slight limp in his step.

He stopped and turned slightly cocking his head to the side to get a good look at the ex-Sheriff's deputy. There was a bandage wound around his head and a collar of purple lacing his neck. He looked just as bad as he himself felt. "Look we need to do this calmly. Level heads, remember? Shit's bound to go wrong if we just barrel on through." Rick coaxed in a gentle tone trying to ease Daryl out of his warpath.

Daryl bit his bottom lip trying to stop himself from snapping. He shut his eyes slowly counting back from 10 attempting to quell his temper. It bothered him beyond all reason that they had not gone out to go retrieve Carol and Judith. That and they wanted him to calm the fuck down. What the fuck was wrong with them? He may not have the full picture having just woken up, but he knew that if he hadn't been out for the count he would have already had them back in the safety of the prison himself wounded or otherwise. He had only packed enough for as much as a week and that was pushing it. He'd meant for that to be a last resort not a literal idea of how long before he'd come for them.

"Fine." He hissed between clenched teeth, trying to bite back his urge to say "the hell with it all" and just continue going without their help.

Rick put a hand to Daryl's uninjured shoulder. "Let's get a bag ready of supplies. You and I will move in an hour."

"You can barely keep pace with me. How're we 'posed to track 'em with you slowin' me down?" Daryl huffed.

Rick's grip tightened on Daryl's shoulder and that killer stare he had seen all too often was focused at the angered red-neck. "That's my daughter out there. We leave in one hour."

Thinking better of getting into fisticuffs over something trivial, Daryl took this as a sign to back off. "Fine." He snapped and the two parted ways prepping for the excursion beyond the prison walls.

"Son of a bitch." Snapped Rick as he kicked the door shut on the green mini SUV. He took a step back shaking his head in anger, kicking up dirt from the gravel road with his boots.

Daryl stopped what he was doing and turned to look at Rick. "What?" He barked irritated by their leader's sudden outburst.

"Fuckin' out of gas."

"Yer kiddin'. What happened to all the gas Glenn siphoned no more 'an a few days ago? Where'd it all go?"

Rick sighed heavily and tapped his boots against the ground in agitation. "When we went out to the feed mill to meet with the Governor. Glenn didn't find much when he went out for that run the day before. We've been running on empty for a few days now or close to."

Daryl clicked his tongue against his teeth thinking hard about what their options were at this point. Not much to be done if there was no gas to be had. He began pacing back and forth, hands on his hips as he turned each thought over carefully in his head. Dissecting every plausible option and outcome from each, weighing out the pros and cons till he was blue in the face.

"I'll do it." He breathed at last, bringing his gaze to rest on the weary Sheriff's deputy.

Rick focused his attention at Daryl, absently shaking his head with fervor. "No. So many things could go wrong. It ain't safe. We already know what happens when one of us goes alone. No. We stick together."

Daryl snorted in disapproval. "What other options we got at this point, huh? Walkin' around out there with our asses hangin' out for them biters to come after us with a baby hollerin' in the thick of the woods?" He snarled moving closer to Rick, challenging his decision. It would literally be like ringing a dinner bell and Rick knew it. Daryl knew he couldn't admit to it, but their trip had the possibility of being a one-way journey, if they didn't make their choice accordingly.

"That is my daughter out there. I get why you're so insistent on being the one on the front lines but this isn't your fault. You need to stop blaming yourself for shit like this. You did what you had to. For the both of them." Rick intoned calmly stepping back from Daryl, their eyes still holding on the other. Neither wanting to back down.

He could taste the blood in his mouth from having chewed his cheek to the point of breaking skin. Daryl let out a frustrated sigh, raking his fingers through his hair, trying to rationalize their options for a second time. He came to the same conclusions over and over again. Bike or foot. There was nothing else. He shook his head and took to his thumb chewing the skin at the corner till there was nothing left but torn skin.

"It's either trekking on foot or I've gotta go it alone on the bike. We ain't got options or time. Unless you've got something better, that's all I've got." He said starting his pacing again.

Rick stared at the ground for a good long while trying to find another solution to their dilemma hidden in the dirt. He swallowed and shut his eyes realizing that Daryl was right by and by. There were no other options at this point. They were still recovering from the attack on the Prison. They had barely had any time to celebrate their victory. No more waiting. No more debating. A choice had to be made, whether Rick approved of it or not. "Alright... You'll take the bike." He held out his hand. Daryl stopped his pacing and looked to Rick's outstretched gesture then back to him. He nodded and shook Rick's hand before being pulled into a hug. "Bring 'em back... Safe."

Rick clapped him on the shoulder before releasing Daryl to resume packing some of his supplies in the saddlebags of the chopper.

A/N: Hope you all enjoyed it. Sorry for it being so short.