Disclaimer: This one's mine. :P

Notes: Short chapter, so apologies for that. This was the most logical place to split the action. I'll be trying very hard to get Nineteen and Twenty out before the 9th, but it doesn't look like this is going to be finished before our lord and master ( the fabulous Daryl Dixon) returns for the second half of season 4.

Thanks: This chapter was looked after by my Fave Beta in the whole wide world; despite the fact that she's terrified of zombies. Thanks Lnz for helping me shape the moment that Seraphim became who I always intended her to be. You rock!

Chapter Eighteen

(Fin's POV)

Something is wrong.

Dread curls in the pit of my stomach. I've been watching from one of the trees most of the day. Today is the day he's supposed to make his move, get the hell out of dodge. I saw the kids earlier today when I circled the farm keeping well back in the trees.

They were all playing by the tire swing; racing each other up and down the yard from the tree to the porch railing. The little girls laughing and playing; no one has touched them yet; they're still fine.

I realize now, that I've looked up, I no longer see them by the house. I should be able to make out their outlines at least against the dry grass of the yard; even if I can't tell apart their individual features at this distance. They are disturbingly absent…I've been too busy watching him; waiting for some kind of signal…

Daryl's been working all morning, next to a broad shouldered man who could pass as a linebacker, and a slim built Asian guy. I've never seen them before and they make random bits of conversation with him as they work. They're must be part of his group from the prison.

Caleb's kid brother is with them. He does seems to be the one they always stick with gaurd duty. He's good at it: most people don't even realize their being detained and misdirected.

The way Daryl glances over his shoulder when he's got his back turned to grab something, shifts his weight to keep him in view when he moves; I know he's on alert. I hope he's already told the rest of his group what's going on; if they make a break for it soon I can cover their escape from my position above the farm. Climbing trees doesn't just come in handy for avoiding Walkers.

Joe…no…Joel? I think his name is, I never interacted with him before, heads towards the house.

My fist tightens on my bow, ready to nock an arrow, now is their chance. They need to move quickly.

The Asian quickly moves to Daryl's side, they have a quick conversation…The hell are they waiting for?

My eyes leave them to see Joel meeting someone on the porch…shit.

They're not going to make it.

I can shoot now, take out Joel and also completely blow my position…or wait. Without the kids in sight they may already be locked up, I cant risk it, I cross my fingers and hope that they haven't just run out of time…

Caleb's brother is saying something to them, the big guy is tossing down his tool, walking toward the house. He stops; turns back.

There's some kind of minor disagreement happening…It's quickly defused however, Joel's posture goes back to friendly and open.

Both the linebacker and the Asian head toward the house.

Crap. They're splitting them up.

I'm glad I made the preparations I did yesterday. Looks like I might need the back-up plan as more than a getaway distraction... sending the herd of Walkers I gathered towards the house when Rick's group snuck out; being the original plan: keep them from going after Daryl.

They haven't returned from the house yet.

How many minutes have passed?

Without my watch I can only sit and watch, guess as the seconds stretch on, minutes feel like hours with me willing them to come back across the lawn, let them have a little more time before it all goes to shit…

Daryl is getting up, looking agitated. He knows something is wrong.

He looks towards the house shoulders set, scans the tree line around the house…

Is he looking for the rest of his group? The kids? Me?

…I'll pretend a little thrill didn't jump through me at that thought.

We're about to have serious problems, it's no time to get all girly.

He picks up his bow, moves towards the house.

I should be down there with him, the second they see me all the focus will be off the others and on me…

I climb down as quickly as I safely can, unclip my harness, nock an arrow and move through the trees.

Daryl has gone inside. If I go through the front door I've got little chance of stopping more than one or two of them before they take me out: I'm one person. A solo all-out assault only works in Rambo movies.

In real life kicking in a door and going in guns blazing…or bows…generally gets you one thing: an express train to dead.

My stomach knots.

If it's all gone to Hell in there I can only hope that he's still alive. That he didn't go shooting off his mouth…

Shit.

I close my eyes and lean against the tree. Focus on taking slow, deep breaths to try to calm my racing heart. I swallow around the lump in my throat. It's time to face the facts:

Going in there is a fucking suicide mission.

I open my eyes and stare up at the clear sky through the bare tree limbs.

Daryl might be dead; but they're not going to kill those girls.

They'll be trapped in a living hell, worse than the one outside those walls, 'til the boys get bored with them…however many days, weeks or months that takes. They'll use them up until they're nothing but hollow, broken shells of existence. Something you can't bring back from the dead.

I push away from the rough bark, wiping a hand across my cheeks.

Fuck it.

Time to be Batman.

Notes: Chapter 19 is going to be loooong and contain both Daryl and Fin POV in different spots.

I am trying to get it out before Friday night but it might be Saturday before the season 3 marathon (hopefully). *happy dance* IT's almost back! Yay!

Reviews are loved and appreciated, you guys are amazing! Thanks so much for reading!