"I need bandages!" Beth yelled from above him and Daryl tried to focus his eyes on her. She was right behind him, cradling him in her lap, yet his eyes could not focus. He hoped it was more from the pain rather than blood loss, but he could not feel any pain and Daryl had no idea if that was a good sign or bad. It did make him want to laugh. "What ya laughin' at, Dixon?"

His answer to her was simply more laughs. He heard someone, one of Harrison's sons, one of the fuckers from the run, shouting back, "Can't be wastin' supplies on this'un. He's good as dead."

Daryl's laugh died away when he realized they were talking about him. Beth was suddenly shifting him, laying him on the cool ground on his side and pillowing up something under his head. The ground should be cold, not cool, Daryl forced a cough trying to focus and remain coherent, worried that his body must already be cold if it could not feel the temperature of the ground. He needed to fight and stay present, he needed to stay with Beth, now more than ever it was too important. There was no way that Daryl was leaving Beth here alone. No, he needed to get her back to her family where everyone would protect her and not just him.

She was behind him, he was sure although he could not feel her there. If she was prodding at his wound, he could not feel it. "Beth?" he managed to croak out.

"I'm here, Daryl, don't worry. I got this."

Movement caught his eye and Daryl saw the girl that Beth had spoken to, Grace, he thought, kneeling in front of him and she had Beth's bag. "Ya got everything ya need in here?"

"Easy as pie," Beth answered from somewhere behind him, her voice sounding less than confident. "'cept could do with some antibiotics."

Daryl noticed Grace's smile and wondered what it meant, before he was distracted by finally feeling pain. "Fuck, Beth! Whatcha doin' girl?"

"Checkin' your wound. Luckily," he could tell she was talking to Grace now. "This one here's been shot with his own arrow before. Same place pretty much, too. Infection's the only worry I got. Can stitch him up fine."

"Never been shot with my own arrow, Greene," he hissed through gritted teeth as she continued doing something that sent pain through his entire body.

"Uh-huh," she responded distractedly. "Okay, he fell on his arrow once."

"Damn straight!"

There was laughing then, from the girls, and Daryl hoped that meant he was not about to die.

"Daryl, tell me what happened?"

"Nothin'," he mumbled, trying to move and look around him. These people were a threat and he knew Beth was not checking her surroundings.

"Stay still," she commanded and he relaxed back down slightly. "Daryl, I need ta pull this arrow out 'n' stitch it up. Rather ya talkin' than screamin'."

"Don't do screamin' like a little girl," he bit out, trying not to yelp in pain as she must have moved the arrow, blinding pain shooting through his core.

She was in front of him then, checking the wound on his stomach and she paused to meet his eyes. "It's better if I break it." Her eyes met his and he nodded with one firm and decisive motion as she snapped the back of the arrow off from behind him and then she locked her eyes on to his, grabbing hold of the arrow head with her hands. He watched her, trying to ignore what he could feel and just focus on her. Her hair was messy, wispy lengths of it flying around, a smear of blood across her forehead where she must have used her wrist to push her hair out of her eyes. It was his blood, he realized with a sudden wave of nausea. "'Kay, ready?" she whispered, her eyes locked on to his as she gripped the head of the arrow, protruding from his stomach and pulled. He grunted some, kicked his leg against the ground and tried to punch out with his left arm, his body laying on his right, anything to stop the pain. And the scream that did want to rip from his lips, he held it in.

She was telling the truth, he had been speared with his own arrow before, in pretty much the exact same spot and he had dealt with it himself. Well, Hershel had done a lot when he got back to the farm, but before then, when he had fallen, banging his head, stabbing himself, he had done all of that on his own. He had made it back to the farm on his own. And there had not been any screams of pain then, why should he give in to the pain this time? He had suffered worse, far worse in his life before the turn. Any screams, cries, yelps, grunts or even wet eyes would just cause his father to be harder, laughing at his cowardly son crying like a baby or screaming like a girl. Think ya mama gonna run in 'n' save ya, boy?

"Hell, no."

"Daryl? Ssh, it's okay. It's out." His eyes were shut now, but he was still conscious. Maybe an ordinary person would have passed out by now, but that was never allowed with his father either. Sleep was for pussies, especially during a lesson. "Just gonna start stitchin'. It'll hurt, Daryl."

Her voice was quiet and he wondered if it was his hearing or if she was that scared that she was whispering. There was a pushing on his back, felt like a huge pressure as Beth must have been packing the entry wound with material because then she was guiding him over on to his back. Again, the ground was not cold.

"Hey," she gently slapped at his face. "Open up." Forcing his eyes open, he saw her, blood smear still on her face along with a forced smile. Her shoulders were bare, white and bright against the blue sky. Turning his head away from her, looking across the ground he could smell Beth underneath him; it was her jumper under his head. "Stay with me, Daryl. Come on, gotta stay awake. Tell me," she sighed, her hands working at the needle and thread. He could feel each and every pull of the needle, pulling at his skin. The pain was dull now. "What happened? I need to know who to avenge if I'm not as good as my daddy."

"Charlie's got a bloody nose," Grace said low enough that Daryl only just heard her.

"An' the rest," he grunted with a wince.

"Ya beat him up, Daryl Dixon?"

"Hmmm-hmmm."

"Why's that then?"

"Defendin' a lady's honour."

"What lady? You don't know any." He heard Beth's laugh, knew that she was joking, but he found nothing funny in her words. "What he say?"

"That pussy assed kid, told me he fancied a piece of ya."

"An' what? He shot ya? With ya own bow?" Everyone who knew Daryl knew that he never let anyone get near his bow, that he would have to be dead to get hold of his bow. Unless you were Beth, and then you got to hunt with it. She was the only person that he trusted enough with such a privilege, and none of the rest of their family knew. He did not want to die on the cold hard ground, leaving Beth to fend for herself and without their family knowing how much he would give for the girl.

"Hell, no," he spat out, a combination of disgust at her suggestion and pain at her stitching him up. Keeping his eyes focused on her face as she kept her own on his wound and fixing him up, Daryl wondered if everyone else was still crowded around them, watching and waiting for him to pass out. Maybe they were about to object at his words, his telling of the events, or just waiting silently for Beth to be somehow more vulnerable than she was playing nurse to him, waiting to pounce on her. "He kept on 'bout it, wonderin' 'bout ya." Daryl could easily elaborate further, could remember the language and tone used by the douche, but there was no point in embarrassing or angering Beth. Charlie had just been trying to get a rise out of him. It had worked.

"Try'n'a get a reaction from ya," she whispered and he wondered if it was due to concentration or fear of angering him.

"I know."

"And you reacted?" There was no fear in her eyes as they briefly met his before shifting him slightly, trying to not cause him too much pain, but needing to access the other side of his wound.

"Threw my bow and knife down. Punched him." It had been a careless move, in retrospect, completely disarming himself and only now hoping that the other men had remembered to pick up his knife because Daryl, even in that much pain managed to remember to grab his bow once it had been disconnected from him. No little pain was going to get to him. Gritting his teeth as Beth pulled at his skin, the needle piercing his inflamed and nerve ridden injury, feeling like it was blunter than a spoon, Daryl gazed away and saw his bow sitting near to him. Everything would be fine as long as he had that bow and Beth to keep him alive.

"Just a punch?"

"Ain't no one gonna say shit about you, girl. Someone tackled me to the ground." Daryl had no idea if it was Charlie, the pussy assed kid or one of his brothers. "Landed on a fucking nocked arrow. An' it hurts like a bitch."

"Cos there weren't no force behind it." She hesitated, pulling a little bit tighter and causing a hiss to escape his lips. "There all stitched up. How ya feelin'?"

His answer was simply to look at her so she shrugged her shoulders at him.

"Serves ya right for fightin'." A huge sigh fell from her body as she positioned herself to be sitting right in front of him, sitting on her legs and she waited until his eyes were on her, half hidden behind his hair but they both knew they could both see enough. "You know we won't be welcome here now."

He wanted to say fuck it, that he did not care, but she needed somewhere for the rest of winter, she deserved it.

"You able to stand?"

Trying not to lean on her, a futile attempt to show his own strength, Daryl stood and closed his eyes as the world spun a bit. As he came back in to focus he could hear Beth talking. "We ain't staying here."

Ignoring the mild nausea, Daryl forced himself to find out what was going on because why would Beth be declaring they were leaving. As far as they knew this was the last possible respite. The shortness of the days told Daryl they were pretty much on top of the shortest day of the year. He snorted in laughter to himself then. It was Christmas already, not that it had ever meant anything to him. The clear blue sky of the day had worried him, making him feel that maybe snow was on the cards because so far this winter they had made it without any snow. It certainly was a mild winter, maybe even milder than the last one where they had been on the run.

"I'll talk to my sons," Harrison was answering as Daryl realized that he was still standing, leaning up against the car and there was no one else around them other than Beth, the old man and Grace.

"It's done," Beth answered. "They wouldn't even try 'n' save his life. You wanna live in such utter seclusion, go ahead, but one day y'all are gonna need more'n ya got here. And, as for ya sons, the one who did this has hit Grace 'afore, made advances to her. Get your sons in line before judging those that come knocking at your door for aid. We'll be off by nightfall." God that girl was as stubborn as a Greene, Daryl smiled, still wondering if it was really the right decision. Sure, he would never sleep a night at this farm, worrying too much for Beth – a woman who could easily fend for herself despite how protective he always felt. Was it all of that hope and optimism, purely Beth qualities, that was making Beth so confident about continuing on their own?

Daryl squinted up in to the sky, nightfall was not too far away and the sky was still bright and blue. The temperature was definitely dropping and all too soon the sun would disappear behind the trees and then be gone for another twelve hours or more. And he was injured now, where was she planning on taking them that they would survive the night? Harrison asked her the same question.

"It's not safe out there," he continued. "Not alone. At least stay to let your friend heal up."

"Now ya care?"

"I'll take 'em." All three pairs of adult eyes turned to Grace. She was pointing out across one line of trees past the work house they had stayed in the night before. There was a small hill behind it, green and grassy still. "To the old hay barn."

Yeah, there was something up there that looked like it could be a barn. Or building of some sort, but did the girl know it was in good condition.

"Takes an hour in good light, might be two for him."

"I'm good," he stubbornly grunted.

"Grace," Beth objected. "Can't be lettin' ya risk yourself."

"You're not," the teen argued back just as stubbornly and Daryl wondered if she was a mini Beth in the making.

Harrison turned to the girl then. "Why'd you never tell me Charlie hit you?"

"He's your son. I'm no one."

"No, you're not," Harrison replied as Beth shook her head. "You're the one who came to help here, who saw the good in these strangers."

"Then let me help them."

Harrison sighed heavily. "I know a dirt road up there, might be a bit overgrown, but I'll drive you both. Grace, go fetch all their stuff, some extra to see them on their way."

"Only if I can go with you all." It was no real barter, but Harrison nodded reluctantly. It did not take long to get everything loaded in to the car that reeked of Daryl's blood, hopefully it would not attract too many Walkers. That was the only benefit to winter really any more, the slowing of the dead. Though it also slowed their decay to an extent. One day they might all simply rot away and the living could try and reclaim the planet. Or the trees and squirrels could. Harrison tried to take it easy driving over the bumpy ground but the road was overgrown and it was not easy to maneuver through it. Daryl quickly closed his eyes, partly to block out the bumps and the fire each one sent shooting from his wound and partly to try and rest. Exhaustion was suddenly coming over him and by the time the car came to a stop it was dark except for the light of the moon and Daryl was awoken by Beth's hand in his, squeezing.

As he blinked in to the darkness, both of them still sitting in the back of the car, Daryl wondered when their hands had moved to hold each other and their fingers intertwined with each other.

"We're here," she whispered and he nodded, clearing his throat and pulling his hand from hers. Harrison was at the door, opening it and holding out a hand to Daryl that he tried to refuse. Sitting in the car had caused all of his muscles to tense up and even his legs, uninjured, seemed to be filled with lead after the rest.

"It's not much," Harrison said. "But it should still be filled with hay. It'll keep ya warm. Only this one door, a bar on the other side of it and a small window up the top. A rope ladder from the window and a wooden and rope in the middle of the barn. You got enough food for a good few days, woods just over there for hunting and a pretty good vantage point. You could stay here a while. We'll be just down the road." The older man's head hung down, his eyes on his shoes. "I'll talk to my sons. You'll both be welcome back."

"Thank you," Beth said with a smile that even Daryl believed might be genuine. Then she turned to the teenager. "You can stay with us if you like. It won't be easy. I don't know what tomorrow's going to bring, but I'd love you meet my sister and my little girl. Well," Beth's cheeks flushed and she caught herself. "The girl I look after."

Shifting his gaze back down towards the farm, Daryl could make out the buildings but there were no signs of life down there due to Harrison's strict rules. Rules that had kept his family, mostly, safe and surviving. Daryl had set out from the church thinking about how Judith had been apart from Beth for almost two weeks, wondering if the baby could have forgotten Beth already. It had been over two months now and there was no way that baby was ever going to remember Beth. Whether Beth was aware of that, Daryl did not know, but he hated the fact that it was going to break her heart when they finally found their family.

"Thank you, but this place is my home. One day, maybe everything will be safe and back to normal and then, my family home is just around the corner. My family. My memories."

"Of course," Beth nodded and Daryl could hear the tears in her voice. She was thinking about losing the girl and how they left her farm behind over a year ago. Maybe the girl was right and they would make it back to the Greene farm one day, rebuild it in Hershel's memory. Both Beth and Grace were rubbing off on Daryl in the worst way possible, making him all optimistic and hopeful, thinking about a future when he had never had one before. They hugged then, the girls, and Beth stood next to Daryl, barely a step away as they watched the car disappear in to the darkness slowly as Harrison did not want to use his lights.

"You should get some rest," Beth said as she crossed her arms across her chest. "Can ya make it up to the hay store?"

He grunted a yes as she moved all their bags one by one in to inside of the door.

"We can sort these out tomorrow when we got light. You head up there and rest, I'll call ya to swap over."

Part of him wanted to fight with her, argue that it should be him taking the watch or that maybe they could both just sleep, but he knew that was not safe and that he needed to rest. His body needed to.

"Here," she chucked him a bottle of antibiotics. "Grace snuck 'em into my bag. Don't want you getting sick on me."

Nodding his head in thanks, he opened the pot and swallowed a pill dry. "Gimme four hours, deal?"

"Uh-huh," she replied quietly, her eyes on the farm beneath them. He walked away from her then using a flashlight to see his way to the ladder. "'Night, Daryl." Sleep was upon him before he even had the time to make himself comfortable and when he woke up there was a brightness around the place. Well, not exactly a brightness as everything seemed dark and gloomy, grey even, but light none the less. He had been left to sleep the whole night and his first instinct was to go and rip Beth a new one until a panic overcame him that maybe something had happened to her so he grabbed his bow, checked for his returned knife and as quickly and quietly as he could given his injury, made his way down the ladder and towards where he had left Beth.

She was still there, sitting on the ground with a blanket wrapped around her, her breath misting in to the morning air which was when Daryl noticed how cold it was. With a quick glance and matching smile, Beth pulled one of her arms out of the blanket and started to push herself up to a stand. For a moment Daryl moved to help her, but then thought better of it – his side was still filled with a burning pain, luckily it was simply at a level he was used to and could function through. When she was standing tall, the blanket repositioned to around her shoulders, he stared at the bags underneath her eyes and then met the bloodshot, blue eyes. Without any words she knew what he was thinking and she rolled her eyes, shrugged her shoulders and coughed to clear her throat.

"Ya were out cold," she explained.

"Hmm-hmm." His response sounded doubtful and he knew it.

"Ya were!" With a shake of her head and a little laugh, Beth continued. "When it started getting light, I came in, brought some of our bags up to ya, thinkin' ya'd hear me an' wake. Had to check ya pulse, thought ya were gone."

Turning then to where they had left all the bags from Harrison, Daryl noticed they were all gone. "Gave us a lot."

"He did, yeah. Few cans of food, some of their fresh stuff, clothes, first aid." Her chin fell then, her eyes falling to the ground and Daryl quickly surveyed the area before his eyes landed back on her. The sky was grey, filled with clouds and Daryl wondered if snow really was due. "Not sayin' I trust his sons, an' I know we're so close to them." He looked across to the farm where some of the people were already moving around, living. "But maybe this is where we could spend winter."

"Maybe." Her head snapped up then, her eyes meeting his almost without his permission and he felt as frozen as the ground beneath his feet. Beth's entire face screamed of hope and he so badly wanted to give it to her.

His eyes darted back to the farm then when a movement from the tree line caught his attention. At first he wondered if it was one of the sons checking the perimeter, but there were too many of them. Only maybe about ten all breaking out from the same part of the trees, but they looked like a swarm none the less. Daryl watched as the group moved towards the nearest building and stayed behind it, slowly splitting up and flanking either side.

"Who're they?" Beth whispered.

"Dunno." His own voice was as quiet as hers as if both were worried that they would be heard when all that really happened was that both stood there for a few minutes, watching as the small band of people, clearly not Walkers, snuck around the farm with knives and huge blades. From the corner of his eye, Daryl saw Beth put a hand to her mouth in shock before a gun shot rang out.

Instinctually, Daryl turned around and checked either side of the hay barn, waiting for Walkers to be attracted to the noise from one of the farmer's guns. Loud noises spooked him now, knowing that they would bring down a horde upon them. Screams pierced the air and Daryl felt Beth move forward a step. His hand on her arm, his fingers curling around her elbow and feeling nothing but her cold coat, stopped her.

"Nothin' ya can do, girl." The voice that came out of his throat sounded more gravelly than usual. They were good people, all being slaughtered. Even Charlie, the dick douche, did not deserve what was happening down there. "Get inside," he croaked, letting his arm drop from her. Moving then to lean against the door frame, she turned but hesitated, standing next to him, her back to the chaos below as more and more of the farm inhabitants ran across, from building to building as the attackers began kicking in doors. Her fingers flickered out and almost touched his, drawing his attention away from the scene before him. "Go on, nothin' t' see. Get some rest."

She headed in and he watched.

He watched as helpless as he had at the prison as one of the attackers approached Harrison, slicing at him and the father fell to the ground just as Hershel had once. And all that Daryl could do was watch as one by one all of the family seemed to be cut down, including one of the moms he saw trying to escape with both babes in a car.

There was another scream and Daryl shifted his eyes to the work house that had been his and Beth's shelter for a night and he imagined it was a high-pitched teenage girl's scream.

More movement came from the trees and Daryl feared that there were more attackers until he recognized the slower, uncoordinated movements of Walkers.

The heavens opened then, sprinkles of ice cold snow falling on to his face as he watched another farm being overrun.