The Georgia sun was hot, even as fall dragged on. Liz marched past Shane, who was keeping guard over the walker-filled barn, and ignored him as best she could. She'd spent the morning cooking and chatting with Carol and Glenn, and now she was looking to stretch her legs by aimlessly wandering around.

"Hey," Shane called after her. "Get over here a minute."

Liz sneered in his direction. "Why?"

"Just come here." A note of remorse hung in his voice and it was enough for Liz to drop her fury and give him a chance. She sighed and looked down at her boots as she marched toward him.

"You get on well with Maggie and the other girl, yeah?" Shane jutted his chin out toward the house. "Old man seems to like you enough."

"Yeah," Liz agreed. "I get on well with them. You should try it. They're good people."

"Whatever," Shane said, shaking his head and waving his hand as if swatting away her comment. "I need you to get in their heads. Do a little recon for me. Figure out why they're keeping these walkers. Figure out why Rick's letting them. They ain't gonna suspect you. Get in there and report back tonight. You're my best weapon against these hicks."

"Hmm," Liz considered. "I don't think I'm going to get involved." Memories of their last few encounters flashed in her mind. "Rick has it handled. Just stand guard and let him talk some sense into Hershel. We had no idea they were even here. Another day isn't going to get anyone killed."

"When it does, I'll remind you who refused to help out the group." Shane scowled.

Liz sighed and stared at the man she used to see as her goofy big brother. "Quit being a jerk, Shane. Rick's the highest in command here. Fall in line." With that, she quickly turned to leave. Mild sibling annoyances had turned into a very real fear of physical violence, and that both frightened and hurt her.

"Man, get out of here." He waved his pistol at her retreating back.

"See you at dinner," Liz called over her shoulder as she walked back to camp. It was getting easier for her to accept that this outbreak had changed everyone; some for the better, some for the worse. She liked to think she was changing for the better, but she couldn't know for sure.

"Son of a BITCH," a growl caught her attention.

Daryl? Liz thought with a slight bit of panic. "Everything okay?" she called out, jogging to the tent.

Daryl swore and sat sat his knife down. "Yeah." He'd been confined to the farm one more day at both Hershel and Rick's urging. He'd moved back out to his tent the moment he was able to do so on his own. Hershel had begged him to stay in the house so he could look after Daryl's wounds for a not her day, but the man had refused. He didn't want to be at the farm at all. Sophia was still missing and he could cover a lot of ground in a day. Arguing that he hadn't been shot directly in the head hadn't been a strong enough reason to get him back out searching, and that had left him in a sour mood. Now he sat whittling a piece of timber. The knife had slepped and he nicked his thumb. Sucking the blood off, he looked up to see Liz's mop of dark hair poking into the tent as she peered in at him. "Yeah?"

"I was just walking by. How are you?" She unzipped the tent and stepped in.

Raising an eyebrow, Daryl shrugged. "Fine."

"I'm not making small talk," Liz scoffed. "You got shot twice. How's your bullet wound? How's your arrow hole? You know what I mean. You might be a big strong man, but an infection could take you down quick out here."

Daryl studied the girl. Beautiful, smart, a little unsure of herself. "What're you fussing over me for, anyhow? Hershel's been out. Rick's been out. I'm fine." He cringed slightly at his harshness. The one person in the camp who seemed to have a good head on her shoulders and he was already pushing her away.

Undeterred, Liz started toward him. "Well you should be used to it, then. Let me see." She knelt down and began unbuttoning his shirt.

"Ain' even gonna buy me a drink first?" Daryl drawled. "How you gonna know what you're looking at, anyway?"

Liz giggled and drew her hands back. "Oh, geeze. Sorry. I took some EMT classes. There's a surprising number of mishaps and injuries during concerts. Lots of moving pieces and parts- I had everyone on my team learn some first aid. I had so much fun, I just kept taking classes when I could." She shrugged. "I figure some day I'll be a nurse, once the performing thing dries up." She paused and realized she'd completely forgotten about the outbreak. "Or, I wanted to, in the old world."

"Didn't expect that," Daryl replied. "Thought you'd travel with a private doctor or somethin'." He took off his shirt and lifted his arm so she could see the arrow wound. "Well feast your eyes on the camp's most recent injury."

Instead of examining the wound, Liz caught herself staring at the man's abs. She knew he had biceps the size of a professional athlete's, but she hadn't thought to wonder about the rest of him. "Looks great," she quickly recovered. She actually looked at the wound and was glad to see it lacked any sign of infection.

"It's fine. I should have gone out for Sophia today." Daryl scowled and heaved a sigh.

Instead of answering, Liz gingerly brushed aside his hair to look at his scalp. "Ouch," she said, grimacing at the bloody mess. She squinted, looking to see if the stitches had popped. They were in tact, just bleeding. "That's got to hurt."

"Didn' feel good," Daryl answered sarcastically. He buttoned his shirt back up as Liz bent over the top of his head.

"I'm going to clean this for you. No worth arguing," she quickly said as Daryl opened his mouth to protest. "I'm doing it." She reached into her cross-body bag and pulled out a bottle of water and a rag.

"You carry that aroun'?" Daryl asked in surprise.

"Gotta be prepared for everything, nowdays," Liz shrugged. She poured a little water on the rag, then bent over. "This will sting."

"Already does," Daryl replied as Liz brushed his hair back again.

Liz looked down at him and smacked him lightly in the shoulder. "For such a strong guy, you're acting like a baby." She grinned.

"You try getting shot in the head!" Daryl snapped.

"Oh, I'm kidding," Liz said, beginning to dab at his scalp. She concentrated on the work, being sure not to snag any of the stitches.

Daryl winced, then cleared his throat. "You were there when they brought me back to the house and when I came to. You stay the whole time?"

"Mmhmm," Liz answered as she continued to work around his head.

"Thanks." Daryl sat quietly, wincing as the rag touched his exposed flesh. "Son of a bitch!"

"I'm sorry," Liz said. "I'd rather have it hurt now and be clean than fester and get infected." She wiped the dried blood from his hair and rewetted the rag. A silence had settled between then, and they each struggled for words to break it.

"Why'd you stay?" Daryl asked. He immediately regretted Going there.

"Hmm?" Liz sat back, satisfied with her work. "Stayed?"

"At the house with me."

"I was worried. They couldn't tell you from a walker when you came back to camp. You looked bad. Bad," she emphasized. She wrung out the bloody rag and put it back in her bag. "I figured you might do the same for me, if you didn't have anything else to do."

"Thanks." Daryl scooped up his knife and reached for his project.

"What're you making? Too big to be arrows," Liz asked, reaching out and running a finger along the wood.

"Somethin' for you, actually. To say thanks, and 'cause ya need it." Daryl looked up, surprised the girl hadn't left yet.

"Me?" A smile spread across the girl's cheeks.

Daryl swore he felt his heart skip a beat, as corny as that dumb saying was. "Your pistol's too loud. Dumb bitch Andrea made me realize that. Surprised she didn't draw in walkers when she shot me. I'm makin' you a bow. Ain' nothin' fancy, but it'll get you out of a bind. I can make arrows. No worries 'bout ammunition runnin' out."

Liz touched her collarbone. "Oh, my God. Daryl." She squeezed his knee. "I've always been so jealous of your crossbow. You're so much more badass than everyone." She laughed when he suddenly smiled. "I didn't know you could make something like that! You really don't have to waste your time on me. Staying at the house, it was nothin-"

"Ain't got nothin' better to do," Daryl replied to stop her gushing.

"How's it work?" Liz asked, her eyes wide with excitement.

"It'll be ready this afternoon," Daryl said. "I'll show you how to use it then. I already made the arrows." He scowled. If he couldn't be out looking for Sophia, at least he could spend time with Liz, as hopeless as that dream was.

"Oh, I'm so excited. You're the best, seriously, the best," Liz exclaimed, clapping her hands together. She hopped up and threw back the tent flap. "Come find me this afternoon. I'll be waiting! I'll check your head again, too."

Daryl sat back and tried to process the exchange that had just happened. Liz Clark had burst into his tent, unbuttoned his shirt, cleaned his head wound, and called him a badass. Maybe the day was turning around, after all.