A /N: Hi, muffins! If you hadn't figured out by now, I'm just fleshing out character interaction between/during events of the show. We all know what happened at the farm – I don't want to bore anyone with a blow-by-blow recap. There's a lot of down-time between scenes… which is where I come in!

For once, everyone was home on the farm. No one was out on runs, no one was out scouting or searching, and no one was missing. Liz, Lori, and Carol had finished up laundry and breakfast dishes and were playing poker in front of the RV.

"How're you feeling, Lori?" Carol asked as she glanced at her hand. "You said your pregnancy with Carl was cake, but each one is different, I hear."

"Oh, fine so far," Lori replied, looking at her hand and putting down a card. "Just a few sensitivities. Cooking meat. The smell makes me sick." She wrinkled up her nose. "Thinking about it makes me feel queasy."

"Mmhmm," Carol agreed, picking up a card. "I remember that well. But would Ed cook? No." She rolled her eyes. "You're lucky to have such a good man."

"Have you thought of any names?" Liz asked, frowning at her hand.

"Terrible poker face, Liz," Carol said, grinning. She threw in a few chips.

Liz scowled and slapped her cards down on the table. "I'm just learning."

"A few names," Lori said, throwing chips and running a hand over her swollen abdomen. "I'll have to try to get Rick to agree to them. It took us the entire nine months last time to agree on Carl."

"Where is Carl, anyway?" Liz asked, watching as Carol scooped Lori's chips into her own pile.

Lori looked up and glanced around. "I think he's out with Shane or Rick." She dealt out the next hand of cards. "He follows them around pretty loyally. I'm not worried."

"He's a good boy," Carol said with a tinge of sadness in her voice. "You make sure he's safe, Lori."

"I'm sure he's with one of them." She glanced at Liz. "Right? Have you seen Shane?"

Liz shook her head. "Nope. Been staying away from him. This whole thing has him pretty stressed out and I'm not going to be a punching bag anymore." She looked from Carol to Lori unapologetically.

Carol gave her a proud nod and replied, "Good girl!" but Lori winced.

"Your move," Carol nodded at Liz. "Hey, Sunshine," she called, nodding as Daryl quickly walked past the group and ducked into the RV. "Something wrong?"

"Nuh uh," Daryl grunted from inside. "Fine." After rustling around inside the RV for a minute, he called back out, "What happened to the bandages?"

Liz got up and stepped into the RV. "Bandages? They're right here," she said, pulling out a drawer. "Andrea did some reorganizing. What's up? Someone hurt?"

Daryl reached out and snatched the bandages from her.

"Hey," Liz gasped, grabbing his hand before he could pull it away. "Geeze."

Daryl's knuckles were cracked open and bleeding; fresh red blood mixing with the grime on his hands. He tried to draw his hand back. "I got it."

"No, here, let me," Liz said, reaching for the peroxide. "Sit down. Both hands?" She glanced over her shoulder and clicked her tongue. "That's got to hurt." She spun back around, knelt down, and began wiping the blood away. Though she was curious as to what exactly happened, she could about guess. Since he didn't look like he'd taken any blows, she could only guess it had something to do with the prisoner in the barn. "How many times am I going to have to clean and bandage you up, Dixon?"

"Thanks," Daryl said as Liz worked. "Sorry to interrupt your game." He slumped back against the booth seat and sighed.

"That's all right," Liz replied, wrapping a strip of gauze around the first hand. "Looks like this will ooze a bit as you move your hand. I'll change it before you go to sleep." She reached for the peroxide again and started cleaning the second hand.

The fact that Liz hadn't asked who he'd hit to bloody his knuckles so badly intrigued Daryl. "You ain' gonna ask?" he finally said as she worked.

Liz shook her head and kept cleaning. "Nope."

Daryl hissed and pulled his hand back slightly. "Damn, that hurts."

"You always strike with your right first," Liz commented. "Of course this one's going to hurt more." She looked into his face and raised an eyebrow. "Look who's learning real world deduction skills! Fine. I'll ask, since you clearly want to tell me. Who'd you beat the shit out of?"

"S' Randall." Daryl made a face. "Can't keep him here. The group he was with? Said they came across a camp site and found a man and his daughters and," he cut off and gave a disgusted sound. "I don't want him here. I don't want his group here." Images of Randall's men raping the camper's daughters flashed in his mind. How could people be so shitty when we're all enduring the same thing?

"Relax. You're making it worse," Liz said as she unfurled his clenched fingers. She winced at the long cracks between his fingers.

"Sorry. Jus' bullshit. We can't keep him here We've got enough problems without these assholes figuring out where we are." Daryl gritted his teeth. "There's gonna be a vote later today. Rick's gonna gather up everyone to decide what to do with Randall. Kill him or keep him."

Liz paused and felt the weight of his hand in hers. It was nice. "So you're telling me to vote your way."

"Everyone's gotta vote." Daryl lay his bandaged hand on top of hers. "If you heard the things he told me-"

"I trust you," Liz interrupted him. She reached for the gauze again and began to bandage his free hand. "And I don't trust him. If you say this is what needs to happen, I believe you. You've only ever tried to keep me safe. Us," she quickly corrected herself. "Kept us safe."

Daryl nodded. "Okay. Good." He looked down at his bandaged knuckles. "This ain' gonna be easy to explain."

"Then don't," Liz replied, packing the first aid kit back in the drawer. "I've got a game to get back to."

"Vote's at four," Daryl replied. "Dale's probably going to be comin' round to sway votes."

"I can be quite persuasive, myself," Liz called over her shoulder as she stepped out of the RV.

*****

Dale did indeed make his way around the camp trying to persuade the group to spare the outsider's life. The group met at four and voted; Randall was sentenced to death.

That evening, to distance herself from the barn, Liz grabbed her bow and trotted down to her stack of hay bales and brought Beth with her. The girl was recovered from her suicidal state and opening back up.

"Yes." Liz hissed as her arrow hit the dead center of the bullseye spray-painted on the bales.

"You're really gonna shoot walkers with that thing?" Beth asked skeptically. "Those arrows don't look very sharp."

"Daryl's going to put metal points on them once I get good enough to even try shooting at walkers." Liz waggled her eyebrows. "And I think I'm good enough." She let another arrow loose. It landed just centimeters from the first one. "Nailed it." She spun around with her hands in the air. "Liz Clark: Walker Slayer."

"Maybe you could call your next album that," Beth giggled.

"Yeah, when this thing calms down, I'm done with love songs. It's all about the walkers." Liz spun around, drew an arrow, and let it loose again. Another bullseye. "Uhhhh, yes! Want to try? I might be able to teach you. I'm terrible at explaining things, though."

"Nah," Beth replied, stretching out in the grass. "I'm not even supposed to be out here. Maggie doesn't want me to hear when they kill that boy."

"Don't get yourself in trouble," Liz replied as she trotted to the hay bales and pulled out her arrows. "Or me, for that matter. I think I'm the only one your dad has never gotten mad at."

"Oh," Beth said. "I won't get in trouble. Besides, he hasn't gotten mad at you, but he doesn't love you. Dad said not to be too influenced by you because he's seen your music videos."

"What!" Liz exclaimed. "They're totally not even that bad. I'm a great influence." She put her hands on her hips. "I taught you yoga. I offered to teach you to shoot archery."

"It's okay," Beth said. "Maggie really likes you. She said it's nice to have a girl friend again. She said you guys were sharing juicy girl talk." The girl tapped her boots on the ground, then shyly asked, "What was it about?"

Playing dumb, Liz repeated, "What was what about?"

"The girl talk. Maggie acts like I'm a kid and don't know anything. That's untrue. I let Jimmy go to third base." Beth looked absolutely scandalized, but nodded proudly.

Liz laughed. "Maggie can tell you. It's her girl talk." She decided the revelation that she'd drunkenly slept with Daryl wasn't appropriate conversation for a teenager who had a crush on him. "Come on, it's getting dark. Besides, I thought you were tired of Jimmy?"

Beth sighed in annoyance. "Yes, but he's the only one around, I mean, ugh!"

Still laughing, Liz linked her arm around Beth's waist. "I'll go put the bow away, then I'll grab the guitar and we can jam out. How about that?"

"Cool," Beth breathed, taking off for the house.

*****

Sometime in the middle of the sing-along, which had grown to include Maggie, Lori, and Carol, a shout rang out from the woods.

"That wasn't the barn," Carol breathed. "Where is Rick? Shane? Where are the men?" She stood up. "Did something go wrong with Randall?"

Lori looked around with panic written on her face. "What was that?" Her hand flew to her collarbone as the worst thoughts crossed her mind.

The cries continued to drift toward the house.

"Stay here," Liz and Maggie snapped at Beth at the same time. The girl nodded and went inside.

"Watch Carl," Lori called to her.

"What's going on? Who is that?" Andrea said, running from the RV. "Is that Dale?" She pulled out her pistol and clicked off the safety as she joined the group running for the clearing.

Liz held her gun in her hand and prayed she wouldn't have to use it. Ahead, she could see a small group gathered around someone on the ground. "Oh, god," she panted. "Please no."

As the women approached, Rick turned and held his hands up. "Get back. Lori, go back to the house-"

"Is anyone else hurt?" Maggie cried. "What happened?"

"Jesus," Liz panted when she caught sight of the man on the ground. Dale had been ripped open; his innards falling out of his abdomen and a look of absolute agony on his face. A walker lie dead a few yards away.

"Get Hershel," Rick said, grabbing Lori by the arms. "Go get Hershel."

"No," Shane said as he loomed over Dale. "He's done." He turned and for the first time in days, caught Liz's gaze.

Liz stared right back at him, refusing to show anything less than strength, even in this horrifying situation. She felt her nostrils flare. This isn't the time, she tried to convey. Finally, Shane looked away and back down to Dale.

"Someone do something," Andrea cried, stepping away. "Oh, god."

"Sorry, brother," Daryl mumbled as he pulled out his pistol and took aim at Dale's forehead. Liz turned her head away as Daryl pulled the trigger and ended the old man's misery.

*****

The next night was definitely the first time Liz had ever been happy to take night watch, and did it solo. Glenn had argued and tried to relieve her of the duty, but she vehemently clung to her scheduled post. Everyone had been deeply shaken by Dale's death the previous night, but she hadn't been close to him at all. The group needed to sleep and mourn. Hershel had moved the group into his house, which gave great solace. Once they'd settled in and started falling to sleep, Liz grabbed her knife and a pistol and crept out to the front porch, wincing every time the hard wood floor creaked.

Outside, the Georgia skies were swirling and churning, throwing lightning back and forth every few minutes. An eerie calmness hung in the air and Liz eagerly anticipated the storm's ignition. Finally something natural. Liz took a deep breath and smiled. As children, she and Shane always raced outside as soon as the rain began to fall. Their mother would sit inside and fret, knowing she couldn't keep them in when the storms rolled through.

A cool breeze touched Liz's face, bringing her back to the Greene porch. Shane. She shivered. Whether it was due to the cold front rolling in or the memories of her brother's lips at her neck, she couldn't say.

At long last, a violent crash of thunder started off the storm. The windows of the house rattled. Bright lightning illuminated the yard for a split second. Liz used the flash to scan the horizon; finding herself shocked that it was void of walkers.

"Thunder must confuse 'em."

Liz jumped and drew her knife, swearing aloud.

Daryl was standing shirtless with his jeans hanging low, his nighttime attire. He was leaning against the door frame. Letting it shut softly behind him, he stepped onto the porch. "Hey."

"How many times are you going to sneak up on me? Jesus, I thought you were Shane. And how, oh how did I know you wouldn't trust me to stand watch by myself?" Liz put her knife in her belt and hands on her hips. "I can do this. I can keep us safe. Perimeter sweeps around the house. I know." She huffed in frustration.

Daryl put his hands up. "I didn't bring no weapon. Trained you myself, didn' I? Of course you can do it." He pulled up the second wicker chair and lowered himself into it. "Just love storms." He stretched out his legs and put his hands behind his head. "Been a long time since we had one."

Liz sat back down. "Are you sure you're not just checking up on me?"

"What if I was?" Daryl pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it.

Liz smirked. "Then I'd say your tough guy act was falling through."

Daryl snorted and took a drag of the cigarette. "Whatever."

Liz reached out. "May I?"

Handing her the cigarette, Daryl nodded in surprise. "I didn't know you smoked."

"I don't," Liz said, dropping the cigarette and stomping it out. "It's bad for you. Stop."

Daryl scowled and reached into his pocket for another, but Liz lunged at him and snatched the pack from his hand. "Seriously! Stop." She crushed the pack between her fingers and stuffed it into her own pocket. "There."

Daryl scowled at her. "What's it matter to you? Those were perfectly good."

"They'll kill you."

"Lots of things could kill me nowadays," Daryl growled. "Now I don' feel so bad about never gettin' married. Having a woman around all the time is annoying."

Liz pursed her lips and stared straight ahead. "You're welcome." After a moment, she glanced over. "You mad at me?"

Daryl lazily flicked his hand in her direction. "Naw."

"I'm sorry you had to put Dale down." Liz looked out to the field as lightning forked across the sky again. "You seem okay. Are you?"

"Yeah. Someone had to do it," Daryl said. "Better that way." As a low rumble of thunder spilled over into a roar, he leaned forward and looked up at the sky. "If I ever turn, don't you hesitate." He glanced at her and smiled to see she, too, was staring up at the clouds. After a moment, he added, "Don't get yourself into trouble. I ain' puttin' you down. Couldn't."

Instead of covering her mouth and squealing like a teenager like she wanted to, Liz rolled her eyes and changed the subject. "Of all of us, you'll be the last to turn. I've seen you do insane things. Like, action movie things. Is that what you did before this? Stunt man?"

"You got me." He sat back in the chair and closed his eyes, folding his hands over his stomach.

"I'll figure you out, Dixon." When Daryl didn't give a smart ass response, she looked over and scoffed. "What, you miss staying in the same tent? I thought I was annoying to have around. You're sleeping out here now?"

Daryl opened an eye. "Not if you keep talking." He grinned and shimmied around until he got comfortable in the chair. He kicked his feet up onto the porch railing and sighed. "Perfect."

Liz crossed her arms and sighed. "You can't be serious."

As the rain began to fall, Daryl smiled and replied, "G'night."