Maybe it's a little too early to know if this is gonna work. All I know is you're sure looking good in my shirt

Keith Urban. You Look Good In My Shirt.

Her grandmother use to tell her myths from the old country, she told her once about the Black Dog. It was a death omen that took the form of a big black dog with red eyes. For days after her birth mother died, a thick sadness clung in the air like smoke and Maggie blamed it on the Black Dog silently roaming the hallways.

Once more The Black Dog had found way back into the house to refill the air with a tense and gloomy feeling.

The three of them, Beth, Jimmy and Maggie sat on Beth's bed, clustered together like little kids. Beth was curled up in the middle, Jimmy was sitting on the end of the bed with Beth's feet in his lap. Maggie sat beside her little sister, just like the night when Annette and Shawn had turned …

Vivid images of Annette's slashed cheek, those yellowed eyes frozen in place as she looked up at the tip of the sickle sticking through her forehead played in her mind.

Maggie should go check on her dad.

Pat, pat, pit, pat, pitter, pit, pat. The rain began a sporadic rhythm against the window. From across the washed out world outside shown from the second storey window, a horse and rider came charging up to the house. Despite the distance, Maggie could tell that it was one of their horses but the rider was not.

She grabbed her sister's sweater hanging on the bedposts and pulled one arm on as she walked across the room to the door. She shrugged the other arm on as she walked down the hallway to the stairs. Maggie slipped on a pair of shoes but didn't tie them up before walking out the door. Fresh, yet nippy air greeted her outside and Maggie zipped up the sweater as she stepped out in to it. The rain had picked up, dotting the navy blue sweater with darkened spots.

"What the hell are you doing here?" She yelled over top of the building wind.

Memphis had slowed to an easy lope. His rider was Daryl. She couldn't help but be angry by his presence. Her dad was devastated, Maggie had never seen him like this in her life and it was scaring the hell out of her. Beth was barely holding on and she didn't think Patricia was doing any better, she had more or less locked herself in her room. It was all done by his group and he had been a part of it.

Maggie grabbed Memphis' lead where it was connected under his halter and looked over the cinch on the saddle to make sure it wasn't too loose or too tight needlessly. Maggie knew Daryl was fully competent with horses. It was asking permission he had no clue about.

"He's fine, it's her I'm worried 'bout," Daryl dismounted; Sophia tumbled out of the saddle without his support. He somehow managed to catch her before she hit the dirt, which cost him a stitch. "She conked out a while back, haven't been able to get her up since."

"Ya got her?" Maggie hadn't noticed Sophia until now.

"Yeah, yeah. I got 'er" Daryl addressed the peculiar creature in his arms.

I found you. It still hadn't completely sunk in yet even though he was holding her.

A white hot flash of lightening lit up the sky momentarily. A second later thunder snapped right above them. It was enough to make a liar out of Daryl and wake Sophia up. A subtle little opening of her eyes up to the stormy sky and Daryl's grey shirt. She normally didn't like being picked up but right now she didn't have the energy to care.

"C'mon," Maggie clicked her tongue and began to lead Memphis back to the stable. Daryl stayed rooted to the spot holding the no longer lost girl looking absolutely lost himself. "You waitin' for a invitation. Take her inside."

Inside? Sophia questioned. Right as the word sunk in, she was being carried up some steps. There was a porch light with moths flying into it over and over again because the bugs thought that they had found the sun. She couldn't keep her eyes open and found herself slipping off to sleep. Then she felt herself really slipping out of Daryl's hold. A knee-jerk reaction caused her to grab on to the strap of the crossbow slung across his chest. The stirrup of the crossbow jabbed him in the back of the head.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa I gotcha ya," Daryl said, re-tightening his grip.

Apparently opening the front door was going to require some skill. Daryl tried to grip and effective turn the doorknob without in anyway letting go of Sophia. Yuppie newlyweds did it all the time. What was the trick to this? He thought about Carol's kangaroo baby pouch. She must have got that to free up her hands and that was when Sophia was a little runt of a thing, now she was a half-grown, gangly mosquito. It didn't help that his whole side were quite sore and bleeding, compliments of the wayward troublemaker in his arms who was starting to squirm. He had pulled an arrow out of his side to take out a walker but this was impossible.

"Could you get the door?" he asked Sophia.

The door opened up into the house that she hadn't seen the outer shell of. She looked around at her new surroundings. Wood floors, some old style love seats with a wooden trim around the top and matching end tables. Back through an archway was dining table and at the end there was kitchen. The only one around was a black and white portrait of a woman. There was no one from their group.

Where's mummy?

Daryl carried her down the hallway. There was a lamp she hadn't seen from her initial view before.

Where's he taking me?

Unable to answer either question, Sophia began to squirm and kick. Daryl tried to keep a hold on her. The violent contortion of him trying to do so caused at least three stitches to split open and he had no choice but to drop her.

"Argh," Daryl gasped, clutching his bleeding side. "Ya lil-"

Sophia had pressed herself into the wall across from him and he could practically see her heart all but beating out of her chest.

"She'd run in the other direction." Shane's voice echoed in his head.

Obviously Shane had been dead wrong about finding Sophia alive but he was right about one thing. Sophia was afraid of him.

"You shut her up or I will." His own voice echoed. Guess she sort of had a reason to be.

So despite the pain she'd caused him, Daryl bit back about five very harsh words for her and told himself to be nice.

"I want my mom," Sophia whined. "Where's my mom?"

"She's close by. Once the storm let's up a bit, I'll go get her," He wasn't lying. He just left out the part where he didn't know exactly where Carol was.

They went into the front room, and listened to the storm; how the rain pounded against the house, the wind rattled the walls and every minute or so thunder deafened them to the other noises. Daryl stood by the window and watched the storm for a while and every so often looked over at Sophia. She had started off sitting up but now was propped against the armrest, curled up into a ball. He couldn't help but feel for the poor girl, she had been lost in the woods for days, now she was in strange place with a guy who yelled at her for crying once.

He'd always assumed Carol would be there for the post found stage so he never thought about what he would do with her other than bring her back. It did click in his head that her clothes were damp.

Daryl grabbed the blanket folded the top of a recliner on the other side of the couch. Sophia pushed herself up and gave him a distrustful look when he laid it over her.

"Jeez, tryin' to be nice," he muttered going back to his post by the window.

Being nice is a bad trick, She thought. What are you really up to?

She kept an eye on him all the time she was able to keep them open. When it became nearly impossible to do that, Sophia sat up so she would stop falling asleep.

"Why isn't she here?" asked Sophia. It was out of the blue to Daryl. She had been working on it for a while.

Why did you bring me here?

"Herschel, the man that owns this place kicked us off this morning because Shane killed all the geeks he was keeping in the barn."

The explanation raised more questions to someone who hadn't been around for the past couple of days.

"After you went missing we all went into the woods lookin' for ya. We split up after we went to this church and Carl accidently got shot. He's fine, was up running around at target practice the other day. The man that shot him brought Rick and Shane here and Herschel saved him. Don't know too much about it, I wasn't here that night. Me, your ma, Andrea, and Dale stayed out on the highway in RV. The next morning we had to leave the highway but we left you a message saying we'd come there everyday so stay put and we left some supplies. A whole jar of peanut butter, yer ma said you love the stuff. So while Carl healed up, we camped out there in the yard and went out there everyday lookin' for ya." Daryl stretched the truth again.

When Daryl was unable to go out yesterday, Shane and Andrea had taken over so at least someone had gone out. But in his opinion they hadn't gone far enough or spent enough time looking. It's not like it mattered now, Sophia was safe and semi sound.

"Somehow Glenn found out that Herschel was keeping his dead wife and stepson in the barn, along with a dozen of his dead neighbors, he thought the geeks are sick. Shane busted open the barn door and we had no choice but to take them out. I could understand why he did it, I wanted to too but Rick's got the grand scheme all figured out, if he thought it was a bad idea we shouldn't have done it"

Recounting the past brought up an old question. "Couple days back, I found a house with a little bed made up in tha pantry, was that you?"

Sophia nodded her head slowly. Daryl made a mental note to mention that to Shane, bringing the I-told-you-so count to two.

"Why didn't ya stay there?"

I wanted too. Actually I thought I could live there. I dreamt that I could fix up the place; dust the counters and tables and put some of those white flowers outside in the vase on the top shelf. It'd be just like out of a story, just me living in this little old house in the woods. When it got dark, I learned that it was a ghost story. There is no such things as ghosts I told myself again and again as I stared out into the empty kitchen from the cupboard I was lying in. I could hear them walking across the wooden floor, and I heard them whispering. I couldn't make out what they were trying to tell me. I could hearing them crying. An unspeakable evil had taken place in that house.

Visibly distressed, Sophia started digging into her injured shoulder. She was about to say something when Maggie walked in soaking wet slamming of the door behind her. She dropped his pack in the hall and shot Daryl a nasty look before rounding a corner, disappearing out of sight. They continued listening to the thunder and the rain.

"Ya hungry?" asked Daryl.

Sophia shook her head, staring down at the floor or she had her eyes closed. From his angle he couldn't tell. He didn't understand how she could not be hungry, she should be starving, probably had a bad case of nerves right now. Maybe in a little awhile, if they were still stormed in, he'd make her something to eat anyway and see if he could coax her in to eating.

"Where's the bathroom?" asked Sophia.

"There's one upstairs." Daryl answered.

Sophia slid off the couch and made her way over to the stairs. He shouldn't have been surprised at the movement; she wouldn't ask about the whereabouts of the bathroom for the hell of it.

"Do ya need some help?" he asked as she took on a few steps with a white knuckled grip on the banister. There was something wrong in the way she walked. She was favoring her left leg and wouldn't put either foot completely flat.

"Nu-uh," she answered, looking down at her feet as she enacted the saying one step at a time.

He followed on her very slow heels upstairs and waited outside the bathroom door.

The toilet flushed. The sound of water running and then there was an audible thunk. Daryl knocked on the door and pressed his ear against it to hear the weakest of answers. No response.

The water going was obviously the shower, and the thunk sounded like something hitting the bottom of a bath tub, something like a body. Daryl went to open the door when he figured that she would probably be naked.

"Maggie!" shouted Daryl down the hall. "Maggie!"

No answer.

"Patricia!"

Was it too much too ask that someone answer him?

Daryl pounded again on the door. Maybe she hadn't heard him before over the sound of the shower. "Sophia, hey Sophia."

He was going to have to go in there and make sure she was ok. Why did she have to do this anyway? Why couldn't she have wanted a sandwich instead? That he could handle.

It's not like you haven't seen a girl naked before. He comforted himself.

No I haven't. I've seen women naked.

Same thing. Only smaller and with less hair.

I'm sick, so very very sick for thinking that.

Steam embraced him when he opened the door. Much to his surprise, Sophia was conscious. Well she was sitting up for the moment, letting the water beat down on her. She didn't screech any opposition to his presence, she didn't even raise her head when he walked over to the bathtub. More preoccupied with protecting her modesty than logic, he threw a towel around her before turning off the showerhead.

Sophia coughed and yakked up what was probably once blackberries on the towel and also on herself.

"For god sakes," he muttered, getting on his knees.

Daryl turned the faucet back on and splashed some water on her face, wiping the blueish goo off her chin with edge of the towel.

The easy way out would be to pick her up and pray to God she could get her clothes back on by herself. Shivering, she looked at him through plastered locks of hair dripping grey water. Watered down she smelled even more like a wet dog. Sophia was miserable.

"I've gone through too much to let ya drown in the bath, ok?" Daryl took the towel from her, she didn't want to let it go at first but eventually he was able to unhinge her fingers from the fabric.

"Tell me when its warm enough" He turned the taps and adjusted it, holding Sophia's hand under the rushing water like the bloody miracle worker. Sophia acted like a mute and never did say, Daryl guessed it was getting to hot when she started going pink and dialed it back.

The bathroom had to be the girl's, there was a thousand and one colorful bottles lined up around the tub. Daryl scanned over the stupid named products and grabbed one. He poured some pink sludge into the water. Foamy white bubbles sprouted up instantly, giving Sophia a nice little cover. Bubble bath had never been so practical.

Daryl had never given anyone a bath before, not that what he was really doing here, he was just going make sure she didn't fall asleep while she had a nice soak to knock the dirt off. But he figured there would be nothing wrong with helping her wash out her matted hair, pretty sure he saw a bit of a twig sticking out of there. Sophia cringed when he reached for a bottle of shampoo.

"It's ok, ya don't need to be afraid no more, it's all over now." Daryl spoke softly, he slowly grabbed a blue shampoo bottle and poured some into his palm. "We'll get ya all cleaned up for yer ma."

Despite herself, Sophia couldn't help but like the feeling of Daryl's hands massaging her scalp. Daryl got the idea that the kid maybe enjoying herself a little bit when a quiet blessed out expression crossed her face. "Y'know the few times I go get a hair cut, I really like when they wash my hair. Don't tell no one though."

Rather then have her lie back in the water, he rinsed the suds out with a plastic vase that held a hundred hairbrushes. (Most definitely the girl's bathroom.)

"Can I clean yer shoulder a bit?" Daryl picked up a weird orange spongy ball thing, Sophia looked at him like he was asking to clean the wound with sandpaper, "just your shoulder, that's it, that's all."

If truth be told, she never gave verbal consent before he started taking small swipes at the torn skin, clearing away the mud easily. It was strange it was like a rash but without any actual skin irritation save for the faint red scratches around the edge of the scabbed area where she had been picking away at it.

He let Sophia soak in the tub a little longer as he surveyed his own damage in the mirror. He had lost all but one lonely little stitch. The cause was humming to herself innocently while he pulled the useless bits of medical thread out of his skin.

"You almost done?" asked Daryl.

The water had cooled off, the bubbles had dissolved to show how much dirt had come off her, a lot, and her fingertips were very wrinkly. So yes, she was done.

"'Kay I'm gonna stand here with my eyes shut an' you take my hand if ya need it," Daryl did as he said and held out his hand with his eyes shut.

In two seconds, a slippery hand landed in his. The support made it a lot easier for her to step over the high sides of the tub. Sophia cocooned herself up in a fluffy blue towel and sat down on the floor. Daryl knelt down by her again and pulled the last towel off the rack. Somehow it caused the whole towel rack to fall right out of the wall. The part that held the rod on one side landed right on Sophia's head. She cried out in pain.

"Shit, ya ok?"

"Yeah," Sophia said, rubbing her head where she got hit.

He dried her hair with the last remaining dry towel. It occurred to him after as Sophia at him with wide eyes that she probably wanted to get dressed. Putting her clothes back on her would put the same old dirt on her.

"You sit here and I'll go find ya somethin' ta wear,"

He vanished, like he had never been there at all. The air was cold on my skin but inside my body was warm. Not like hot when I laid on the rock to try dry off after I fell in the creek, it was a comfortable warmth like the type you get when you drink hot chocolate.

"It's mine but it's clean," Daryl threw his pin-striped purple, sleeveless shirt over her head. As he suspected on him it was a shirt, on her it was a dress. A bit of a low cut dress. He did the buttons up to the top. Sophia was the doll Daryl never had growing up. Because he was a boy and had no idea what to do with them.

From her discarded cargo pants she snagged something pink with little white polka dots. Her panties, Daryl realized. Sophia twined her underwear around her feet and tried to put them on without sitting up which more impossible than holding someone and opening a door.

"Yer a right proper young lady, ain't cha?" Daryl closed his eyes again, they had a good system going. Sophia got herself decent which was much easier to do standing up. She tapped him on the shoulder when she was good to go.

"My feet hurt," stated Sophia tiredly.

To get a good look at them, Daryl set her up on the large wooden dresser. The pads of her feet explained her whole way of walking. They were dried and cracked with a few blisters on her heels. A thin line of blue encircled a slightly swollen ankle.

"Twist yer ankle?"

"There was a walker hiding on the ground, and it tried to grab me and I fell."

"What did you do to your shoulder?"

"dunno," mumbled Sophia, scratching at the area.

The first thing Maggie saw when walked into the bathroom was Daryl wrapping Sophia's ankle up in a tensor bandage. Little puddles trailed to the bathtub looked like it was full of dishwater, it was going to leave a grime film when emptied. All of the towels were on the tile floor along with the towel rack. If she knew a hurricane was going to rip through her bath

"Got it covered now," Daryl rolled his eyes. Where was she when he was hollering her name? "Ya have anythin' for her shoulder?"

Since he didn't give any other details, Maggie moved in to look at Sophia's afflicted shoulder. Daryl pulled at the collar to give Maggie a better look. Sophia came to life, she grabbed Daryl's hand, wrenching two fingers the wrong way as hard as she could, which was actually pretty damn painful. He let go with a muffled yelp.

What the fuck! Daryl had no idea what he had done. When he looked back to Sophia, how anxious she looked, he knew that he had crossed some line.

Maggie gave him a puzzled look. She opened a drawer, closed it and then opened another drawer.

"Hydrocortisone," said Maggie.

Daryl snatched the tube from her. He had a theory that Sophia might have freaked out because she felt too crowded by people she didn't know. She knew him better than Maggie so he was going to continue caring for her and make damn sure he moved slowly. Sophia was on edge, he could feel all the tendons tightened up in her shoulder as he rubbed the cream in.

"I'm gonna put her in the bed downstairs," Daryl explained his next move as he finished up fixing her.

"Alright," Maggie said.

"Was not asking," Daryl growled, his tone changed when he turned to Sophia, "now you, young lady have worn out my patience plus I'm sore an' cranky, so don't fight me."

He carried her back downstairs into the guest room. Sophia lightly hung on to him and seemed all to eager to crawl out of his arms on to the queen sized bed.

"What the Greene's lack in hospitality, they make up for comfy beds."

"It's got a electric blanket," Maggie said, coming in behind them. Hopefully she hadn't heard his last remark. Then again maybe she should've heard it.

A bit confused, Daryl looked at the blanket Sophia was huddled underneath, Maggie showed him a little control panel with attached to the mattress.

"The heating pad's on top of the mattress, that's how you turn the temp up, that's down. Make sure she don't cook." Maggie showed him the workings of the electric blanket.

"Now we're just spoilin' ya," Daryl said to Sophia.

She felt everything that she had tried to pretend to in the woods. The bed was very comfy and was massaging her stomach with an even heat and Daryl's shirt was pretty soft too and didn't stick to her like hers had near the end. The rain still beating away outside made everything seem ten times better even if it kept her from her mom.

"Maggie said you ripped your stitches," Patricia drifted in with a first aid kit in hand, already eyeing up the bloodstain decorating his ribs.

Daryl looked over at Sophia. Getting all the dirt off her showed how discolored her skin really was. "Lookit her first."

"She really dehydrated, gonna have to give her a IV," Patricia gave a diagnosis after five minutes of looking Sophia over.

Sophia was more aware than she looked. The mention of this IV scared her. All to well, Daryl remembered a crying Carl and Sophia during the blood test at the CDC and how he had to subtly excuse himself from the room.

"I want my mom," Sophia whined through chattering teeth and wet cheeks. When Patricia stuck her with the needle she cried out in such a sharp note, Daryl felt a stab in his gut.

"Sorry, honey I didn't get a vein," said Patricia, carefully withdrawing the needle. "One more time."

One more time turned into two more times. Sophia cried harder and harder every time.

"Quit torturing her," Daryl couldn't take it anymore.

He took the needle from her. For the size of it felt heavier in his hand. He didn't want to do this at all but she was going to have tracks by the time Patricia got through with her.

"Here Sophia, lookit the horses" Daryl handed her a coffee table book on horses from the nightstand. She looked up at him silently asking him why was he doing this to her. He tapped the crook of her clean elbow a few times with two fingers in hopes to raise a vein on her so he would only have to do this once. Daryl pointed at the glossy first page of the book, "look at all those horses."

The picture of a herd of horses in a vivid green valley distracted Sophia, Daryl sunk the needle into her as quick as he could with screwing it. Despite his efforts she cried out in pain but it was in for good this time.

Patricia gave him very skeptical look. Obviously doubting that he would've learned that in a proper medical environment. She was right. For that, Daryl could swear she was being rough with him as she redid the stitches he lost. He didn't say anything and looked at the book with Sophia.

"I'm kinda hungry now," said Sophia, shortly after Daryl pulled the tube out of her arm when the IV bag was empty.

"Oh you are, are ya? What do you want? There's peaches and jerky and garden vegetables, got carrots and tomatoes." Daryl listed off what he could remember.

"Tomatoes?" That perked her interest, "Could you fry them?"

"Been a bachelor my entire of life, fryin' shit is my specialty. You sit tight."

Daryl went out to the kitchen and clanged around a lot getting everything out.

He had no problems making himself at home here. Especially since the Greene's had made Sophia his responsible and hey the kid was hungry finally. It may just have been the smell of the tomatoes cooking or watching the red skin dull in color in the pan, but he began to think that the girl had a good idea going. Daryl found another pan and sliced up another tomato and also helped himself to some bread.

"Takin' too long?" asked Daryl when Sophia walked in.

"They need pepper," she forgot to mention that.

They ate at the island in the kitchen. Sophia had quite the appetite. She ate everything on her plate and the half of his sandwich that Daryl offered up, he normally wasn't one to share food but he decided to make an exception for this little stray, prompting him to make another sandwich.

"You think there's cookies in that jar?" Daryl pointed to an obvious rooster cookie jar.

"Maybe."

Daryl had to find out. He pushed back the rooster

MMMMOOOO.

Startled Daryl let go of the lid. A giggle behind him shocked him nearly as much. Sophia was smiling and laughing like she hadn't in years.

Think that's funny, you should see yourself in that shirt.

Author's Note: Happy Thanksgiving American Peeps.

(I have no idea why it's such a big holiday with my internet writing, I don't even like turkey)

Thanks for so much to all those who reviewed and kept me moving forward with this: Leg64, Emberka-2012, 6747, war90, Ihasbukkit, Surplus Imagination (2x), sammyjase, Guest, GemmaTellerSoa, Rat.

The current story cover is from The Tree of Life. A movie I only recommend if you like: pretty pastel sets, nature, Texas, the 1950s, Brad Pitt, poetic but at the same time creepy voice-over narration, gingers, dinosaurs (I shit you not there are dinosaurs) and last but not least, plotless-ness and feeling very, very confused.

There is a concept in that movie that is relevant to this story and that's why I picked it, but I will be changing it later.