I do not own The Walking Dead.

Previously:

Mind working automatically, Faye shot onto her feet and dashed behind the line of houses, only stopping to jump over the fence. She didn't look back to see when the attacker found the bathroom empty. The girl was already gone.

The heavy rain made any traces of her blood vanish, Faye with them.

Warning: Some topics in this chapter may be triggering.

Carl always thought he was tough.

By always, he meant the start of the apocalypse. There hadn't been a reason to be tough before then, the boy's main problems had been homework and the 'occasional' fights his Mom and Dad had behind his back. After the dead rose again, those problems seemed like a dream.

Perhaps he was tough before then, though. His father was shot, in a coma nobody was sure he'd get out of. Carl had wanted to give his blood, his everything, for Rick. He'd been so sure of himself, and only his Mom was able to convince him out of the idea. But if the moment had ever come, the boy would have gladly offered his blood. That was tough. In the time where he didn't have a gun in his hands, that was tough.

Looking after Sophia made him feel tough. She had always been shy, and quiet, and the walkers scared her more than they did him – as far as he could tell, at least. Although he never quite knew the full story, Carl could tell her Dad was the thing she feared most.

Her disappearance hadn't hindered the boy too much either, because he was tough and he would search and he would find her. That kind of determination wasn't easily found.

Also, if surviving a gunshot to the chest wasn't tough, he didn't know what was.

But it wasn't being shy or quiet or scared that was Sophia's downfall, it was just that she was so good. Even if she hadn't run from the highway, even if she had survived, Carl had to wonder whether she would still be alive. Sophia had been too nice. Nice got you killed. Sophia was never meant for this world, he knew that now.

Then, from completely out of the blue, Faye Robbins dropped into his life as quickly as Sophia had left it. The two girls were polar opposites, even in the fact that one of them vanished into the woods and the other appeared in them.

Back at the farm, the girl was more anti-social than who she grew to be. Carl held up most of the conversations, did most of the smiling, and a whole lot of cheering up too. Having said that, he had always thought she was cool. Faye had a gun! And a knife! And nobody questioned it all that much! She even talked to Daryl, who was cold enough to be off limits most of the time. If he ever did something wrong she wasn't afraid to tell him, and during the time she first arrived with them there were plenty of those occasions. Carl put it down to the bad situation she had been in.

At that point, that was more than enough for Carl to think she was badass.

(Not that he would ever have admitted it.)

He didn't blame her for wanting the comfort, though. The only family she had was dead; Faye herself putting her Dad and brother down and she already blamed herself for her mother's death. The girl could put up a shell all she liked, push away the memories for as long as she could, but he knew. It took him some time to even begin to truly understand the way she felt, but he knew. He was determined to be there for as long as she would let him be. The two became constants in each other's lives.

Carl didn't need to keep an eye on Faye the way he had to with Sophia. She didn't scare as easily, that was clear in the months after the farm with the way she fought to go raids. She even saved his skin a few times, and had his back in an argument.

Until now.

But no, forget all that. She was the one who started the argument.

(Sure.)

She was the one who messed things up.

(He could tell himself that all he liked.)

He didn't need her to be tough.

(No, but he was a whole lot stronger with her there.)

"Carl."

The boy's eyes flickered up to see Carol stood before him, her voice breaking him out of his thoughts. She shouldn't have surprised him. After all, he was sat on the steps outside and the anti-social bubble he had hoped he was emitting would only deter the children. Rick had also approached him, but didn't get much out of the boy. He had to go on a run after that and Carl was more than willing to avoid the conversation.

"You doing alright?" The woman continued.

His reply was short. "Fine."

"Sure don't look fine." There was the tone Faye always complained about, not condescending enough to call her out on, but enough to be frustrating. No, Faye wouldn't say condescending; she wouldn't know what it meant-

No more thinking of Faye! That train of thought is over! Get it together, Carl.

"Come on, I've got something I wanna talk to you about. We had quite a few on the run, there won't be many people hanging around."

It was the underlying this-is-not-optional voice that made him actually get up and follow her, not without a quick staring competition.

"I think it's about time we had a little chat," Carol began as they entered the cell block. "About Faye."

"We aren't talking." He replied a little too quickly to seem uncaring.

Carol folded her arms, leaning against a table. "You were this morning. More than talking, even. On a roof, I might add. Don't get me started on you two being on a roof."

The boy scowled. "You heard it?"

"I heard your voice and my ears guided me upwards." She said. "Now, explain 'it'."

"'It' doesn't matter. We fought over her bringing people back. Then she stopped. Then she left."

The woman raised an eyebrow. "You make it seem very one sided."

"Well, maybe it was."

"I think you are right on that point." Carol held one hand up, as if it would make the point have more of an impact. Carl just thought it made her look pretentious. Although, that depended on whether he really knew what pretentious meant, he wasn't completely sure. "The argument has been very one sided. Ever since the newcomers arrived."

What? Was that an insult? 'Cause if it was, he was fine with storming out. What did Carol know? She'd been distancing herself from Faye for almost two months now. She didn't have the right to assume things.

She continued. "Carl, you know Faye. And you know that even though you're both annoyed with each other now, you'll make up. And you know something else? She'll be the one to apologise, whether it was her fault or not. Faye doesn't want to lose you. Don't use that against her."

The boy scowled. "What do you mean?"

"Faye, on top of everything else, doesn't want to be alone. She might be stubborn to her bones, but being alone is the last thing she wants. That girl will put whatever problems you two are having behind her and apologise even if it isn't the right thing to do." He opened his mouth to protest, but Carol interrupted him quickly. "You know I'm right, she's done it before. Back when you were both around the back of the cell blocks."

"And you thing her apologising is wrong? That I'm the one not doing things right?" Carl had heard enough of this shit lately. It didn't matter that his Dad never said it out loud, there was this look of despair in his father's eyes whenever they met with his own. He was sick of it. Since when were they saints?

Carol sighed, but stayed firm with her argument. "I don't think anyone is right anymore, Carl. I'm not trying to paint Faye in some naïve light where she can do no wrong, she's not an angel. But you know it's not fair that Faye's the one who has to come running back. You're not a bad kid, it has to be somewhere in that head of yours."

Carl remained silent.

"All I'm saying is, whether you mean to or not, you've been taking advantage of that insecurity. You should stop."

The boy snapped out his reply. "What's the point of this? What're you trying to make me do?"

Carol shrugged, as if she didn't care, but her tone of voice didn't match her posture. "I can't make you do anything, Carl. That's your job."

What was this? Some movie where he was supposed to have some kind of revelation and he would have the solutions to save the world and re-build relationships that had broken down earlier in the film? He couldn't just magically come up with all the answers after a single annoying pep talk that insulted him more than encouraged him to make things right. Those kinds of thoughts were nowhere to be found and didn't show any signs of arriving. If they were somewhere, like Carol said, he would have come up with them by now. He filled the smart role of the duo that was he and Faye, Carl couldn't just miss those kinds of things. If he knew, he would have apologised to his father, to Faye, put his gun down, make friends. Those were the kind of things he did.

(It never occurred to him that those were the solutions. Perhaps not the answers to the questions everyone had in the back of their mind, but they were the beginnings of his.)

Carl knew Carol was trying to defend Faye – why, he didn't know – but she was making out like the girl was a complete pushover. Which she was not. Faye was… Faye… Faye was just Faye. She was a constant. She was his constant.

She was his constant that he had pushed away. It was his own doing. He turned the thought over and over within his head.

He didn't like that.

Just as Carol turned to leave, Carl felt the need to have one final comment. "You know, Faye thinks you're leaving her behind."

The woman's expression faltered only for a second. It was more than enough time for Carl to notice, though. "I'm not."

"That's what you're making her think-"

"It doesn't matter what she thinks." Carol was stern, eyes suddenly that much more piercing. "What matters is that I'm there. If that means I have to do things from behind the scenes, then so be it. It's what's best for her."

"Is it, though?"

"You might not understand this Carl, and it may not always come across, but I care for Faye like she's my daughter. She doesn't always understand that, so I have to do my caring in a different way. But it is done, and that's the important thing, the big picture."

"How is making her think you're abandoning her the important thing? It doesn't make her happy!"

"We could fight over what Faye needs for hours, Carl." A small smile graced Carol's lips, one that he didn't quite understand. "But, I think that tells me my work here is done."

The was an awkward pause as Carol's words sank in before the door suddenly burst open, the two blonde girls Faye had befriended – kind of – emerged with a cry, panting a little as the smaller one rested her hands on her knees. "Carol!"

Immediately making her way over before the girls could even continue, the woman's voice took a softer tone. "What's going on?"

The taller girl – Lizzie, Carl thought – spoke first. "The people on the run came back!"

"But they got really injured! Apparently a building collapsed!" Millie- no, Mika continued.

"Hershel told us to come and get you so you could help out!"

If those two were going to finish each other's sentences for the rest of this conversation, Carl was leaving-

Wait.

Wait a damn minute.

His Dad was on that run.

Thinking of Faye could wait. Following after the three, he shouted to them. "Hey! Do you know if my Dad got hurt?"

"Rick?" Mika said the name as a question, taking a moment to connect the two. "No, I think he's okay. He looked okay, he was helping everybody else!"

Good. That was good; one less thing to worry about.

One wasn't much, but it was a start.

The moment the adrenaline wore off, Faye was acutely aware of the throbbing in her arm as she hopped over a fence. She wasn't sure how far she ran, or how long for, the blood pounding in her ears only beginning to subside. Looking down her left side as she hurried through the garden of what she prayed would be an abandoned house, she winced at the blood pouring down her arm.

That wasn't good. Blood never was.

Thinking back, Faye realised the large cut streaking her upper arm was probably cause by the window she had broken. She didn't spend too much time on the wound, it could be dealt with once she was inside, and she was pretty sure the blood loss wasn't life threatening.

Hopefully. Faye didn't honestly know how much blood you had to lose before you were in any serious danger, but she wasn't collapsing on the floor, so she guessed she'd live.

The first and likely only stroke of luck that day was the open door to the house, and the girl entered quickly, glad to get of the rain and into the dusty kitchen. Ignoring the burning pain in her arm as she did so – as she wouldn't have been able to do the task one handed – Faye pushed the kitchen table to the door, barricading it from anything or anyone who would try to get in. The action, however, seemed to spur on her bleeding arm, drops appearing on the floor as she quickly left the room, finding herself in a living room. A cushion would do the job, right? It wasn't the best objet to use to stop bleeding, but this house looked like it had been raided a good few times; Faye doubted she would find much else to do the job.

As she sat on the couch – although, not much comfort was provided to her cold body, and it occurred to her that she should probably find a change of clothes soon – Faye slung the small bag she'd honestly forgotten she had off her shoulder, wincing as it brushed the wound. It wasn't her usual back pack, it was smaller and lighter, fitting over one shoulder and under the other. It had seemed ideal at the time, but now the girl wished she had carried more than half a bottle of water. Removing the cushion for a second, Faye finally got a good look at the cut.

The red liquid still oozed from it, not showing any real signs of stopping. The deep slice was hardly a clean cut, too, the edges jagged where the skin was roughly torn. Slowly raises her hand, Faye lightly ran her fingers around the edge of the cut, cursing as she quickly snapped them back as the wound screamed in pain. How hadn't she noticed this sooner?

Shaking her head, Faye replaced the cushion and leaned against the back of the couch so she had a hand free. Pulling out her gun, Faye flicked on the safety and took out the magazine, which was an awkward task to do one handed, letting the bullets fall out in front of her. She counted four.

Shit. Four wasn't enough. Hell, the full fifteen was never enough, but four was pushing it.

Well, fuck it, it wasn't like she could risk the noise anyway.

Faye couldn't help herself and sneaked another look at her cut, and the deep red stains on the cushion drove her to get up, forget her aching legs and find something better to bandage the wound. Passing out was the last thing she needed. Putting more pressure on the injury like Hershel had mentioned once, Faye headed up the stairs. A door was hanging open, the white tiles seen through the crack. The girl mentally shrugged. The bathroom was a good a place as any to start looking.

A smell hit her the moment she walked in, and the blood stained bathtub was impossible to miss. Inside it was a walker, lying in a pool of its own dark, crimson blood, the body limp with its hands in its lap, and the wrists had a cut as deep as her own on each arm.

The girl almost threw up at the sight.

Faye grimaced, turning to leave instantly before stopping herself. Letting out a heavy sigh through her teeth, she unsheathed her knife as the cushion temporarily fell to the floor and slowly turned towards the walker in the bathtub, body and clothes soaked with blood. Faye didn't even need to look at the wrists to know what the person had done. They had tried to escape the new reality, perhaps too early on to have the sense to shoot themselves in the head. Fingers reassuringly flexing around the knife, Faye forced her body to move towards the walker, the creature only just beginning to move.

If this person wanted peace, she would give it to them.

Their family was probably dead, as were their friends and loved ones. Faye could only wonder silently what it would take to drive her this far, to make her wish for death. Death seemed so simple in this world, so easy to come by, to the point where death was all around, attacking them at every turn. How much would it take for Faye to stop fighting? To make her give into the oblivion and lay down to accept the fate looming behind everyone's backs?

As she plunged the knife into the man's skull, her mind went blank. Taking it as a sign to let the matter drop, Faye went through the bathroom cupboards to scavenge for anything useful.

Then, she left the body to rest, shutting the door quietly behind her.

The sun was almost set when Faye had the courage to check her wound again, the previous childish curiosity having left once she cleaned it. All she had was a towel and the bottle of water from her bag, half of which she drank, the other to clear the dirt she had pressed into the wound when she fell shoulder first coming out the window. It still throbbed though, and when Faye removed the bandage she had found stuffed in the back of the kitchen cupboard – along with empty paracetamol packs – she saw the skin around it an angry red. Faye was by no means an expert, but it looked infected to her. Unfortunately, she didn't have enough bandage to replace her current ones, so she just wrapped it up tightly again.

At least now the bleeding had stopped, although Faye found her skin to be a shade too pale.

There had been no signs of the rain stopping, no sign of Daryl, or any sign of anything in particular. The girl was beyond bored, playing the straps of the baggy pants she was wearing – her normal clothes drying on the floor. The pants were a dark blue and the t-shirt was white, however, neither could actually be seen, as Faye was currently leaning against the headboard of the king size bed, completely enveloped in duvet. It smelt musty, but it had warmed her up a little, so she was glad.

Gazing out the window, Faye imagined what would be happening at the prison. Hopefully someone was worried about the whereabouts of her and Daryl-

The child's thoughts were suddenly interrupted as two figures walked into her view.

There were two men before. It had to be them. It had to be them. Various curses ran through her head as she stared in horror at the two, body suddenly frozen, unsure if they were simply passing or knew she was in there. Faye hoped it was the first, because she wasn't sure if she had it in her to run from them anymore. The two figure stayed still for a while, maybe talking between themselves.

Faye didn't move any closer to the window for fear of getting caught, but she would have put money on the two being the same as before. That was if money meant anything, though. After a few minutes, the rain and cold seemed to finally get to them as they retreated to wherever it was they stayed, and luckily in the opposite direction to Faye.

That night, the girl was torn between staying on her guard or sleeping, but unconsciousness stole her for a few hours at least. However, every time it did, Faye would wake from a nightmare, panting as she wiped her sweaty forehead with the white t-shirt. whether it was for hours or minutes, the girl would fight off sleep again, gun in hand to stay on watch.

Then sleep would claim her once more.

Carl sat cross legged at the door of his cell, staring up at the windows as the heavy rain drops hit them.

It was dark now. Faye was not back.

He had given up on telling himself he wasn't worried hours ago. It was a lie. He was extremely worried. It had taken him long enough to finally decide to apologise to Faye, and the longer he had to think, the more plans he made. Because, maybe one day, Faye wouldn't come back to him and she wouldn't put up with it anymore. Carl dreaded that day. He dreaded it with a burning passion and refused to accept it would happen. If that meant he had to man up, then he had to man up. So after all that, Faye decides to not come home? Carl was not accepting it. She could not vanish just as he had decided to make things right! That wasn't fair! She couldn't just… just die like that! Faye wasn't supposed to die that way, to disappear out of the blue. Faye wasn't supposed to die, period!

(Only once did it occur to him that demanding what was right and wrong was bordering the childish side, but he disregarded it quickly because Faye wasn't there.)

The sound of soft footsteps brought his eyes away from the dark sky and onto his father's leather shoes. The man looked tired. Lizzie and Mika had been right, there had been a lot of injuries from the run that day. Rick had not been one of them, luckily, but someone had died, crushed when a rotten wooden ceiling had collapsed on top of them. The others had bruises and scrapes, but hey all used medicine they didn't exactly have an abundance of.

"Hey," Rick began, voice soft. Most people had gone to sleep by now, or were at least in their cells. "You should get some sleep."

"Faye isn't back." The boy replied easily, as if that explained his behaviour completely.

"And she won't be," At the boys sudden glare, her continued quickly, crouching down to Carl's level. Fortunately, he kept his tone from being patronising. "Not 'till tomorrow. Daryl won't drive back in the rain, let alone the dark. Give it a night, they'll be back first thing in the morning."

Carl's arms hugged his knees, as if it would prevent himself from being moved. His fingers gripped his jeans. "And if they aren't?"

Rick sighed. "Carl, runs don't always go perfect-"

"What happens if they aren't?" He pushed, words snappier than he anticipated.

The man's next words were said with certainty, the ones which kept him firm as a leader. "If they aren't back by tomorrow afternoon, we'd start thinking 'bout a search party. Could be a thousand reasons why they wouldn't be back though, could have been a herd, gotta hide from a group-" Sensing those last words wouldn't help, Rick stopped himself. "Daryl's one of our strongest. He ain't gonna let anything happen to Faye, you know that? She's gonna be back."

He was right there, at least. Carl was sure Daryl would put his neck on the line for Faye, and probably anyone else would say the same. The problem was, if they were separated-

"Come on, get some sleep. Faye wouldn't wanna see you tearin' yourself up about this."

God knows what Faye thought about him. Sighing quietly, though, he did as his Dad said.

Carl would say he had a feeling in his gut that something was wrong, but he felt like that a lot recently. Perhaps it the guilt finally getting to him or just the plain worries that everything that could go wrong probably would in this world.

Either way, he didn't like it.

Faye awoke to sweating, muscles stiff as she sat up, a jolt of pain through her still sleepy daze as she put too much weight on her left arm. Suddenly more awake than before Faye carefully unwrapped the bandage to reveal the red flesh. The skin was swollen and red, a horrible looking yellow liquid forming inside the cut. She really needed to get it treated, 'cause if that wasn't infected, Faye didn't know what was.

Not wanting to see it anymore, Faye wrapped up the wound again, pushing through the pain as she dressed herself back into her old clothes, despite the fact they were still slightly damp.

As she left the room, her stomach rumbled and the girl was rudely reminded of how hungry she really was. The last time she had eaten was, what? Twenty four hours ago? And the last drink she had had was the day before. Another reason to hurry the hell up and get home.

Not that she was in any state to hurry up.

Pulling the table back was a lot harder this time around, the girl being even weaker than she was before. The idea of being on the street again wasn't a pleasant one, but if she was going to work out where she was, it was the only option. She looked up as she walked around the front of the house. Apparently, she had slept longer than she anticipated, the sun already visible in the sky. It must have been around nine or ten o'clock.

Faye reprimanded herself. Daryl would not have approved.

Speaking of Daryl, there were still no signs of him. No walkers with arrow holes in their heads – Daryl rarely wasted a good arrow – and nothing he might have left for her to find. But did she honestly expect there to be? The likelihood of him finding her were slim, even with his excellent hunting skills. Her priorities had to be different. Find her bearings, then get the hell to the prison. They probably wouldn't send out a search party for days, unless Daryl had gone straight back. Even if he hadn't, he would eventually. And if that was the direction they were both heading in, there was no doubt he'd reach it first, especially with Faye in the state she was in. Everything would be fine as long as she thought logically.

(That would be a great plan if Faye had more than an inch of good logic in her brain.)

As she was walking along, the girl was suddenly very aware of the footsteps behind her. For a moment, she thought they might be a walker's but she had checked the street and there were no growls to match.

Plus, the footsteps were even, and increasingly loud. Whoever it was wanted her to hear them.

This time, though, Faye was ready. She wouldn't be surprised. Hand suddenly reaching for her gun, she spun around, flicking the safety off as she did so.

She was faced with another man, not the one from the previous day and not Daryl. She didn't particularly notice many of his features, other than the gun that was ten times the size of hers. What was it, a freaking machine gun?!

"So we finally meet." His tone was a sickly sweet. "I can't believe it's gonna take the both of us to take a scrawny girl like you."

There was no doubt in her mind who he was. Not wanting to make the same mistake twice, Faye's finger reached for the trigger before she was stopped by a movement of his hand. "Ah, ah, ah, let's not get hasty," He gestured to his back, obviously meaning the gun. "I think I might just have the upper hand here."

"Not if I get your head." Her words surprised herself. She had threatened to kill him. And she had meant every word of it.

"Your hands are shaking." He taunted. "Still shiverin' from the cold?"

He wasn't kidding, Faye had to steady herself, although it didn't help very much. She wasn't prepared to deal with this, she felt like crap.

"See, way I see it, you've got three options here. Shootin' ain't the smart one. The other two are come with me nice and quiet, which is boring, wouldn't you agree? Or, you could run. Go on, why not give a guy some entertainment."

Ha! Like he could out run Faye! Running was her speciality.

(That sounded a lot more cowardly when Faye really thought about it, but she didn't dwell on the matter.)

Adrenaline kicking back in, the girl sun on her heels and ran as fast as her weakened body could take her, but barely reached the end of the street before she was sent skidding to a halt.

The man from the day before. Faye froze up. Son of a bitch, they were both here, they were on both sides, Faye was screwed-

"Not this time, girly." The man taunted, and suddenly Faye was sent surging forward as she was tackled, strong hands gripping her around the shoulders and the girl couldn't help but cry out as the hard pressure was put on her bandage. Gripping too hard to keep hold of her gun, a shot went off as she struggled, but hit no target.

The realisation she still had her weapon hit Faye before either of the men, and the child twisted her hand round despite the uncomfortable angle and fired, aiming to the man's heart. Aiming to kill.

But not truly kill, no; Faye would let him turn.

Again though, the bullet did no real damage, at least not enough to deter the men. The shot grazed his side, perhaps slicing off a bit of t-shirt and grazing the skin.

The man from before growled. "Take the fuckin' gun off a her already!"

Listening to the command, he quickly let go of a shoulder and swiped the Glock from her hands with ease, and as she fought more, he squeezed her left arm on the bandage, and Faye had no choice but to let out the pathetic scream of pain. It made the man in front of her chuckle. She squirmed as he ran a hand down her cheek. "Has the little chick fallen from the nest?" His sick grin suddenly dropped from his face, shocking Faye with a hard slap across her cheek, the girl unable to hold her weak cry. "You're a fucking dumb little chick."

No one made bird jokes about her but her family!

Faye lunged out with her foot, aiming to kick him in the balls. He moved out the way in time, but it was a hard blow on his leg all the same. He cursed again before gripping her left arm and pushing the child to the floor.

The reality of the situation, the fact that no one was there to save her now, and she was powerless to even save herself finally kicked in, panic suddenly coursing through her body and she kicked and squirmed under his grip as the tears began to stream down her face. Her eyes locked with her gun for a moment, a hand shooting out towards it for a second, but the hope of reaching it was quickly diminished by the man standing kicking it away. Her attention was quickly brought back by her neck being pinned, breathing becoming coughing as the man a top of Faye grabbed her chin. "Nuh uh, you won't be needing that, we're gonna have some fun."

Faye's eyes squeezed shut for a second as her hand shot to the one holding her neck. "Quit ya squirmin'." He snapped, but moved his hand away, his smile creepy as he watched her catch her breath.

Suddenly, one of his hands pinned both of Faye's out the way, the other making its way to her top. Her legs couldn't kick out as he sat a top of them, the girl crying out desperately as his rough palm reached under the fabric, caressing the smooth skin of her stomach, rubbing her sides. His hand began to reach up further as Faye tried to roll away, to no avail. His grin made her want to puke. "Well, would ya look at that-"

His voice was suddenly cut off by a cry too deep to be Faye's, and another, and then another before a large thud. The hands on her loosened and then finally left, although Faye couldn't bring herself to let out a sigh of relief. The weight a top her body then vanished as the man backed away, for what reasons Faye didn't care to know, taking the opportunity to back away, only stopping when she hit the wheel of a car.

"You fuckin' like that, huh?!" An angered voice shouted, but Faye was too busy curling up into a ball so no one could see her tears to find the owner of it. Her own sobs barely covered the one's being made by her attacker.

Faye couldn't say she didn't like the sound.

"You fuckin' like rapin' kids?!" The person continued. "I'll beat your ass to the ground!"

The phrase sounded vaguely familiar, and Faye lifted her head enough to see her saviour punch the man to the ground, ignoring any whimpers and pleading. "You listen t' her cryin'? Don't think ya did!"

The man who grabbed her in the first place was on the floor, face battered as blood pooled around him, an arrow in his chest-

An arrow in his chest. Arrow. Crossbow. Daryl. Daryl. Daryl. Daryl. Daryl. Daryl. Daryl.

Daryl was lifting the cowering man's head off the ground. Daryl was slamming it back down. Daryl was doing it again. And again. And again. Daryl picked up the discarded crossbow and lazily shot the man in the chest, blood already bubbling up into his mouth as he twitched on the floor. Daryl stood for a few seconds. Daryl breathed. Daryl turned to Faye.

Oh God, he was looking at her, Faye didn't want to be looked at, Faye wanted to hide, Faye wanted to run away, but Faye did none of those things.

It looked like he was looking at an injured puppy, voice surprisingly soft after his previous actions. "Faye."

Faye. Faye. That was her name. She was Faye. He was talking to Faye. He was talking to her.

"Faye." He said it again, this time approaching slowly. Tears still flowed down her cheeks. The girl didn't move, but felt like a wild animal that needed to dart away and hide, gaze staying locked with Daryl's as she shook. Before she knew it, he was kneeling in front of her. His words remained quiet, as if sensing her panic. Then again, there wasn't much to sense, she was a curled up mess before his eyes. "Faye, 's just me."

He reached his hand out to gently touch her left arm, but it was wrongwrongwrong and no one was going near her bandage 'cause they hurt her and they did things and it was a mistake. Acting on instinct, she slapped his hand away, not realising how hard she had done it, but quickly returned her arm to the curled up state.

He didn't try to touch her again, but the hurt was etched on his face as he continued to speak. "It's me, Faye, it's just me. Daryl. You know me, I ain't gonna hurt ya. Ain't gonna let anyone hurt ya no more. Gotta trust me, Faye. Remember what I told ya? Told ya I ain't leavin'." His voice remained soothing and patient. "I'm stickin' to my word, ya hear? Just me, ain't no one else here, only me."

Her eyes darted about. It was Daryl. Just Daryl. Daryl wasn't a liar. Daryl was Daryl. Daryl was here. Daryl was here. Daryl was here making things better. Daryl was safe.

A new bout of sobs shuddered through her body as Daryl sighed, shifting his position as he nodded slightly with his head. "Come 'ere, sweetheart."

This time, Faye did as he said. The girl let herself move to him, burying her head into his chest as she curled into a ball again. "It's okay, I gotcha, I gotcha." Daryl murmured, wrapping his arms around her tightly as he slowly rocked back and forth, resting his head upon hers. He continued to comfort her, although Faye thought his words might not only be helping her. "Ain't no one hurtin' you again, gonna get you home."

How she had gone from wanting to be as far away as possible from anyone to never wanting to leave Daryl's arms, Faye didn't know. But for now, she felt safe enough to let the sobs rack her body.

"Gonna get you home."

Author's Note:

Well, it's been a while! Many things have happened to delay me, school starting with an unbelievable amount of homework for GCSE (que all the older people laughing because if I'm struggling now, I'll die later on), I'm a year older (because, yes, that is how time works) and that coupled with other issues made for not much writing for you lovely people! And thus, I reward you with the longest chapter of Not So Alone to date!

All joking aside, I'm sorry. A thousand frustrating things have happened that have just had to take priority. Life's a bitch. But to all the reviewers who stayed supportive and encouraged me to write - I thank you! I couldn't ask for more patient readers. Cookies for all!

And although we'd all love some fluffy hugs from Daryl, they won't solve all of Faye's problems. This will change her, and it will take some time to get over it - if anyone could truly get over something like this. It was tough to write.

At least Carl has seen the light, though!

Anyway, 'till next time!

Please review, I love to hear your thoughts and advice.

Thanks.

Cobalt Flame.