Illusions

Using the stick that he had picked up from the debris around the fallen tree, Daryl fished his way through the deeper water of the creek in search of his missing crossbow. He kept an ear out for anymore movement in the area surrounding him, looking up to make sure that Jamie's body hadn't moved from its place. He didn't even know if she was alive. If she was, she was definitely unconscious. The stick suddenly snagged on something foreign in the water, giving Daryl a chance to duck down and search with his hands to make sure that it was his crossbow. He soon stood back up straight with the weapon in his hand, relieved that it wouldn't be damaged by the water.

His head snapped up when he heard the sharp sound of a branch cracking, his eyes immediately searching out Jamie. The rifle had sifted in its position, turning at an angle when the small branch supporting it snapped. The rifle was still secured on the other side by a strong tree and a vein wrapped around the muzzle, her legs still draped over the other trees. Her arm had slipped free and left only her throat caught in the strap.

He would have to trust her to remain there until he got out of the creek.

The original route that he had taken to get down and back up before wasn't an option, far too much core muscle needed that he couldn't risk. The arrow through his side made it hard enough to move, but to overwork his stomach would pull at the wound and tear it further. Even with the scraps of the sleeves of his shirt that he'd used to wrap the arrow, it moved too much.

He made it quite a couple of yards up the cliff side before he gave up on using the stick he'd found, finding it only to be one more thing to worry about. He let it slide back down along the dirt trail he'd made, toward the water once again. He couldn't see Jamie from where he was, but he hoped and prayed more than he had since he'd found her that she was still up in the trees and not in the water. If she fell she was going right into the deep end of the creek.

His only problem now; the dirt was too soft for him to grab onto, crumbling away onto the ground whenever he tried to pull himself up.

"Come on," he growled out to himself. "You've done half; stop bein' such a pussy." Taking a deep breath, he tried to use his legs to propel himself upward to get to the next ledge of dirt but it slid away beneath his feet, nothing more for him to hold on to and resulted with him stepping back into his previous place. The ground beneath him couldn't take the added pressure of him having to jump back and fell away, his hands not fast enough to grab hold of something.

Blackout.

"Come on, baby, wake up now," Jamie whispered as she tapped at Daryl's face, smacking his cheeks lightly. "No time to sleep, babe, wakey wakey." Daryl huffed in pain as he looked up to where she was. Her blonde hair was in perfect place, not a smudge of dirt along her skin. Her eyes danced with happiness when she saw him awake. "There you are."

"You're a'right," he mumbled out, glad to see that she wasn't hurt from her fall. She smiled at his words as her hand stroked his cheek, before moving up to wipe off some blood that had collected at his temple.

"Can't say the same for you," she answered back with a faint smile, "Poor baby took a nasty fall, huh?" Daryl marvelled at the feel of her soft hands on his face, fighting away the pain from where his head had cracked off the rocks on his second tumble down the hill. "The day really didn't turn out the way we'd thought, huh?"

"Good morning," he mumbled groggily, looking down at Jamie's lap when he felt too tired to keep his eyes open. Not a speck of dirt, flawless.

"Yea, it was a good morning," she agreed softly, leaning forward to press a kiss to his forehead. "You've got to get up now, Daryl. Can't stay lying around all day. You need to get that doll back to the others, Carol's gotta be missing Sophia so much."

Her voice faded out, the touch of her hands on his face, her lips on his forehead, disappearing as the darkness consumed him again. He almost didn't want to open his eyes, but he didn't want to lose her, either. He couldn't let her disappear. But as he fought to open his eyes again, it was not Jamie's face that greeted him.

"Why dontcha pull that arrow out, dummy?" Merle asked as he looked own at Daryl with blue eyes, slightly darker than his own. "You could bind your wound better." Daryl let out a short laugh at the sight of his older brother, almost forgetting what it was like to have the weird ass, brute around all the time.

"Merle."

"What's goin' on here? You takin' a siesta or somethin'?"

"Shitty day, bro," Daryl replied tiredly, thinking back to when he had first woken up, Jamie pressed against his chest and her skin too irresistible not to touch; Jamie nearly choked by the strap of her rifle.

Merle laughed with mock sympathy.

"Like me to get you a pillow?" he asked, grinning down at the younger Dixon. "Maybe rub your feet?"

"Screw you," Daryl groaned out in retaliation.

"Mm-mm, you're the one screwed from the looks of it. Thoroughly, little bro. How's that nice piece a' ass treatin you? Little Jay-Jay, fuckin' up all those years I spent tryin' ta make a man of you. This is all I get? Look atcha, lying in the dirt like a used rubber. You're gonna die out here, little brother." Merle laughed down at him, his voice harsh and his words like nails to his skin. "And for what?"

"Girl," he answered back, "They lost a little girl."

"So you got a thing for little girls now?" Merle asked, sparking anger inside of Daryl. "Looks like your little Blue Jay's second best now!"

"Shut up."

"'Cause I noticed you ain't out lookin' for old Merle no more," Merle said from above him, looking thoroughly irritated.

"Tried like hell to find you, bro," Daryl countered, closing his eyes for a minute. What else could he have expected, meeting up with his brother again? Definitely not the same sentiment that he had gotten from Jamie when he'd found her. Wouldn't have fuckin' wanted that kind of sentiment form Merle.

"Like hell ya did, you split man. Lit out first chance you got. Your little fuck toy's back, no need for Merle to stick around."

"You lit out!" Daryl growled out. "She ain't no toy. 'S why she hates ya, bro," Daryl said more calmly, his voice scratchy and weak. "Treat her like she's nothin', get what you give. All you had to do was wait, we went back for you. Rick and I, we did right by him."

"This the same Rick that cuffed me to the rooftop in the first place? Forced me to cut off my own hand?" Merle asked as he looked down at him, getting Daryl's attention to turn toward the remaining two hands. He still had both, fully intact. "That who we talkin' about here? You his bitch now?"

"I ain't nobody's bitch!"

"You're Jay-Jay's bitch, baby brother. Pussy whipped, that's what you are. Playin' errand boy to a bunch 'a pansy asses, niggers and democrats." Merle laughed in amusement to his own words, probably picturing it in his mind. "You're nothin' but a freak to them! Redneck trash, that's all you are."

Daryl thought back to when he and Jamie had been talking outside her office one day, some of her coworkers snickering at the sight of them. Daryl had heard them call him trash, so had she. She's blown up on them later that day, getting suspended without pay for a week because of it. Lucky she hadn't been fired.

"They're laughing at ya behind yer back, you know that, dontcha? I got some news for you, son, one of these days they're gunna scrape you off their heel like yous was dog shit." Daryl's eyes began to fall closed, Merle's words leaving a cold that crept up from his gut. "Hey," Merle snapped when he saw Daryl's eyes fall closed, smacking at his chest. "They ain't yer kin. Your blood." The cold creeping in him turned to anger when his brother told him to go back to camp and shoot Rick, the man that had helped him to save Jamie. Helped keep her safe when he wasn't there.

"Now you listen to me," Merle said as he took hold of Daryl's face in a rough grip, contrasting fiercely with Jamie's soft hands. "Ain't nobody gunna care about you but me, little brother."

"Lying little fucker's all you are," Jamie's voice said, drawing Daryl to look over to the water, seeing that she was standing in the creek, her boots submerged in the dirt shrouded stream. "Never did like that 'bout you. Brotherly to a fault, though."

"Jay-Jay," Merle purred, looking at her over his shoulder before redirecting his eyes down at Daryl. "Don't that pussy belong to you, little bro?"

"Definitely don't belong to you," Jamie said from behind them, her feet sloshing around inside the water as she approached. "Fucker. Don't deserve any. Lying off to him like that, people care more for him than you ever did."

Merle laughed deeply as he looked down at Daryl, Jamie coming to kneel next to Daryl's head. "Come on, before I have to kick your teeth in," the elder Dixon threatened as he moved back. Jamie's hands moved to brush across his skin again, brushing at the wet hair that stuck to his temples.

"Wake up now, baby," she whispered as she leaned down, brushing some sand from his cheek. "Wake up."

"Let's go!" Merle yelled as he kicked at Daryl's leg. The fogginess began to clear from his brain, the feel of Jamie's hands on his face fading away. He tried to keep a hold of that feeling, of her, but she disappeared again. When he looked down at his feet, Merle was gone as well.

In his place, a walker bit at his boot. When Daryl moved, its attention turned up to him, the dead man's hands releasing his thick boot to move up to his leg. Daryl panicked, gasping for breath at the sudden sight. Jamie and Merle were gone, leaving him alone again. He kicked out with his other leg, knocking the walker away from him and letting him lunge for the Horton a couple of feet away.

Hands grasped at him again as he grabbed his knife instead, stabbing it into the side of the walker before punching the side of its head to try and get it off of him. He pushed the walker down to try and get better leverage to kill it, but its hand moved up to grab a fistful of his hair and was able to get him back down on the ground. He used the momentum to roll the walker off, throwing it a couple feet away.

A second was making its way toward them quickly, drawn forward by the commotion.

Using the time he had, Daryl leaned back slightly and gripped the arrow in his side, pulling it forward. He gasped in pain, holding back his cries, as the feathered end pulled through his flesh before springing free from the injury. He quickly grabbed the crossbow, struggled to pull back the taught string, took aim and fired off the only arrow that he had into the head of the walker just as it dove at him. The second continued to stumble up the path toward him, its pace quick at the smell of blood.

He moved to grab the arrow from the first walker's head, the only weapon that he had, when a gunshot cracked through the air. The black man fell back, his head snapping backward as the bullet lodged into his skull, left dead for good this time. Daryl gasped for air as he tried to comprehend what had happened before he quickly whipped around to face the source of the shot.

Jamie stood at the base of the waterfall of rocks, up to her waist in the creek water. Blood painted the entirely of the right side of her face from a deep gash at her forehead, her lips parted as she panted for air. The gun in her hands shook with the control she needed to keep the gun up to fire. Her throat was red from blood, a raw line created from the strap. Unlike he had seen while he'd been unconscious, her hair was a mess, caked with blood and tangled with leaves and twigs, and her clothes were wet, muddy, blood splattered and torn.

She lowered the gun and stumbled in his direction, the water rippling around her. Daryl groaned in pain as he pulled himself quickly to his feet, moving into the water without hesitation and headed straight for her. Neither had the strength to keep themselves up when they finally reached each other, falling into the water as they gave the other a one armed embrace, holding their respected weapons in their other hands and out of the water.

"I thought you were dead, lying there," she rasped out, her voice pained and rough.

"Could say the same for you, Angel." Daryl's hand moved to her throat, feeling the deep imprint on her neck from the strap, it would fade in time, but it probably hurt like a bitch. She stumbled further down into the water when her left leg gave out suddenly, blood pooling in the water around them. "No, come on. Up," he ordered in a tired voice, trying to keep her up without falling over as well.

"Fuck," she groaned in pain as she let him tug her back up and carefully manoeuvred the both of them away from the waters so that they could sit down. They both had several bruised areas, a gash on their heads—although, Jamie's was worse—and one lethal injury. Daryl's arrow wound was bleeding steadily and made moving difficult. Jamie's left leg was torn up around the knee and thigh from her trip down the hill before hitting a tree.

"You gotta stop that bleeding," Daryl husked out as he looked down toward her leg, which she was trying her hardest to stay off of. She looked down at the bloodied pants, the jeans she had come to love probably destroyed now. She glared down at the material for a moment before the tensing of her head caused her skull to pulse and throb in pain. "Take off your shirt."

"Daryl-"

"Angel, you'll bleed out. Ya got one of them damn sports bras on. Take off your shirt." Jamie huffed tiredly before she fell down to sit on one of the raised rocks around the creek, pulling her ruined blue shirt over her head. Her breath hitched in pain as her back and shoulder protested the motion but she soon finished removing the material and sat before Daryl in her black sports bra. She held still as Daryl look the shirt from her, tore at the hem until there were several strips that he could use, and placed the folded up material to the back of her thigh. She hissed in air through her teeth when he put pressure on the injury, probably with several rocks and sticks stuck in it.

She felt exposed out in the open air without her shirt on, the sunlight heating her shoulders and back. Daryl used the torn strips to tie the shirt onto her leg as tightly as he dared, knotting the strips at the outside of her thigh. She gasped in pain at the feeling, her fingers digging into the dirt and tearing more cuts into her hands.

"Enough," she finally gasped out, her hands reaching out to him. He took her hands before she could grab him, letting her calm down as the pain ebbed away slowly to a dull ache. They moved over to the shade to take care of Daryl's injury, Jamie's hands pressing the folded up material of his flannel shirt against the arrow wound while he tied that strips around his waist to secure the compress in place.

"Son of a bitch was right," he mumbled out to himself as he picked up his crossbow, missing the look that he received from his girlfriend as she hobbled up onto her feet, taking most of her weight on her good leg.

"Daryl, that climb-"

"Is gunna be a bitch," he interrupted fluently, looking over to her as he caught his balance. "But there ain't no other way up." She nodded her head in understanding, but when she looked up at the imposing height of the mountain that stood between them and surviving, she wasn't too sure if it was even worth it. Shaking her head sharply, she limped her way over to the log to retrieve her rifle.

"I was going to say," she started as she pulled the rifle strap up onto one shoulder, "that climb ain't got a thing on us." A smirk came to her lips as she looked over to him, even though her entire body screamed at her in denial. Daryl scoffed in amusement, shaking his head at her. She just turned away with her smirk still in place and limped her way over to where she was able to find a walking stick to help keep her supported. Her leg wouldn't be able to support her weight for too long.

It's been forever, I know, and I'm so sorry about that. I've just been having trouble getting the inspiration to write. So, I went back and re-read the latest chapters, read over some of my favourite reviews and found it much easier to get this next chapter out. Sorry for the delay, please forgive me! I hope all of you still review :)

Chapter 25 – Nothing On Us

He pulled himself up enough so that he could look into her face, her eyes filled with her relief and showing how tired her was, with blood and dirt straining almost all of her tanned skin. She didn't show a single care, however, as he lifted her face up gently to press a kiss to her lips.

"Gotta get movin', Angel," Daryl whispered against his lips, feeling her nod even as she never pulled away from the kiss. Her arms tightened around him, pulling him closer. He pressed her down into the dirt as one of his hands slid around to the back of her neck to keep her in place, deepening the kiss further. He pulled away before long, knowing that they would need to get back before sunset.

"It's going to be a long walk back," Jay gasped out as Daryl looped one of her arms over his shoulder, letting her take some of her weight off her injured leg. Daryl looked down at the path that they could have to take, knowing that it was very true. It was going to be long, they were injured, and there was the chance of walkers.

One hell of day.

"That walk," he started, looking down at where she was resting her temple on her arm from where it draped over his shoulder, "ain't got nothin' on us." She smirked as he repeated what she had said before nodding in agreement and taking the first step. Pain rippled through her body with each movement, but she knew that it would only get worse over time if she stayed to rest. She'd soon be too bad to walk at all.