"Followed your pal Rick into quite a pickle," Merle taunts, just out of focus. "Seems ta me you're back to being a sheep, little brother."

"Hell I am!" Daryl tries to say, and it's a point he feels they should be pretty damn clear on, even if Merle isn't really there. Because being a sheep will get you lost.

Daryl isn't a sheep. He isn't. He needs to know who's in charge, is all. He's been taking orders his whole life, no shame in that. It's not that he doesn't have a mind of his own, hell he knows he does. But every cracker and his aunt has an opinion, doesn't mean it needs airing.

At the camp in Atlanta everything had been a mess. Everyone felt like they needed to speak their damn minds, Glenn, Lori - Dale more than anyone. But that's not how social structure works.

That's not how Daryl works.

But Daryl's gotten better at judging who he wants to follow. Shane had been a loud voice, but he'd been full of air the same way most of those Ranger Joe types were. People like Shane were idiots, but they weren't dangerous and Daryl knew dangerous.

Father Lawrence had seemed okay, hell he had a whole group of older boys Daryl's age who thought this man was the best thing next to Jesus and Daryl could see why. There had been nothing patronizing about the way he spoke to Daryl, no hate, no blame and Daryl had been sold.

Truth was Daryl had been an easy target. His dad had been off with uncle Jess, getting pissed and shooting rabbits in the mountains. Merle had left with his motorcycle gang and this time Daryl had been sure his brother wasn't coming back, so Daryl had once again been on his own.

It just took Daryl too damn long to understand what was going on and he had been close to giving up more than he wanted more than once.

He had been a sheep and he had gotten so, so lost.

Bile rises in his throat and the room blurs around him as his eyes water from the taste and the pain in his side. His ribs hurt when he moves, but mostly it's just a dull pain, so he ignores it.

Rick is near by, unconscious, but alive and they're both tied to a metal pipe that's more rust than not, but still holds his weight then he tries to hoist himself off the floor into a sitting position. He thinks it's been at least twenty minutes since anyone came to check on them, which means they'll probably be by soon, will probably check if they are both still out, still safely bound and then leave them be for another twenty minutes. He hopes, because even if Rick wakes up now he'll be in no shape to fight anyone off.

It takes less then two minutes for them to show, but this time the Reverend and his cronies are flanked by two new men, a bulky one and one that looks like a psycho and they all gather around Daryl who pretends to be unconscious.

Pretends, at least, until one of them kicks him in the side against a couple of already abused ribs and Daryl doesn't have to pretend the way he curls in on himself and tries to suppress a whine, breathing quickly to control the pain.

"Wake up, dog." One of them snarls and Daryl notes his face for later.

"Are you sure it's them?" The Reverend asks, fake concern on his face.

"Nah, I don't know man." The biggest of the two new men says. Rick is awake now, struggling to get into a sitting position. Maybe the term "dog" sat poorly with him, too. "Dude had a crossbow, but I didn't see their faces. There were three of them, though. They had a kid with them."

The words makes the Reverend's face light up. "Carl?" he asks as he kneels in front of Rick.

The look Rick levels on him is one that Daryl has only seen with blood to follow, but the Reverend doesn't seem too affected.

"Well, well, Rick." He continues, shaking his head as he stands back up. "Still leaving bodies in your wake, I see." And even if Rick still looks absolutely murderous, Daryl doesn't doubt that the words strike home.

"Where is Carl now, with the rest of your people? Somewhere safe?" The Reverend asks, sounding conversational, sounding like he feels a hell of a lot safer than he should. Daryl feels like informing him of that fact, growling out, "Never seen a man with such a strong death wish refusin' ta lay down 'n die!"

Rick isn't saying a damn word, isn't going to no matter what they throw at him. He's just planning pain and maiming behind frost-filled eyes.

"I hope you've brought Beth with you." The Reverend says, ignoring Daryl's words, but looking right at him. "How I've missed the sound of her voice."

Daryl gets to his knees so fast his arm almost pops out of the socket as he pulls against his restrains. "You best pray Rick gets to you 'fore I do!" He shouts and his need to get to his feet and end this man is making his whole body shake with rage.

That's not going to happen, though, not now, because the Reverend looks down on Daryl with concern, pity even and sighs.

"I'm quite sure these are the men who killed your friends." He says, looking to the men flanking him. "I know them and I've seen the darkness inside them. Daryl here is a troubled man, capable of just about anything if he feels threatened and Rick-" The Reverend turns his head to meet Rick's eyes, completely untouched by the look Rick gives him. "Mr. Grimes, I'm afraid, is a cold killer, as dangerous as I've ever seen them. This man and his friends have lain more than one peaceful town in ruins." Again he kneels in front of Rick, again keeping just out of kicking distance. "You don't even feel any regret, do you?" he asks, looking absolutely distraught by his own accusations.

"No." Rick says and Daryl can feel his stomach drop. "No I don't"

"There you have it, a confession in front of the Lord." The Reverend says, bowing his head to pray. When he's done he gives a court nod and the four men are on Rick in an instant, pulling him to his feet and untying him from the iron pipe so they can take him along.

Daryl struggles with the nylon rope around his wrists, biting down the pain when it cuts through his skin. He twists to get his front against the wall, arms now crossed and he grabs the iron bar and yanks. The structure of the building gives slightly, drywall and dust falling into his hair and he pulls again and again, feet against the wall so his whole weight goes into the movement. The sounds that leave his mouth are primal and terrified, closer to a whimper at times, but he doesn't give up, until the pipe gives and the screws that holds it in place comes out of the rotten wall.

He hits the floor on his back and scrambles to his feet, feeling dizzy as the pain in his body returns full force. They haven't been kind enough to leave his crossbow lying around. He knows they took it to use as a plaything when they stripped them of weapons on the road and he hasn't seen it since, but there's a broom in the corner and Daryl snaps the handle with a stomp, staggering against the pain that shoots through his side at the movement.

He needs to stop by the door, needs to catch his breath and and listen for any source of threat on the other side. The voices sounds far away, getting fainter, but he's pretty sure that's just him loosing focus, not them actually moving away. He opens the door carefully, finding the next room blessedly empty, but the door at the other side of the room is ajar.

Cold air is seeping through the open door and he moves to it, stopping again to get his bearings.

He hears a blow land, fist against face and when he reaches the crack in the door he can see Rick on his knees, gun pressed to his bowed head. Daryl feels hot rage flood his system. For a moment he doesn't care that he isn't armed, is ready to enter this gunfight with nothing but his fists, but it never comes to that.

The sound of an engine makes the small group break up and on the Reverend's order the two men holding Rick start dragging him back towards the cabin. They are at the door when the Reverend and his people stops the red minibus a good distance from the house and Daryl doesn't wait to see who's joining the party. Instead he moves back against the wall to where the door will hide him when it opens and breathes deeply to clear his head.

"Don't screw this up, baby brother." Merle sing-songs. "Do and you're dead."

Daryl stabs the first man who steps through the door in the head as if he was a walker, sinking the stick into his temple before he can even react, but his scull isn't as brittle and it takes a hell of a lot more effort than Daryl expected. By the time he's ready to take on the other man there's already a gun pointing at him, but Daryl isn't afraid to die and the man, who clearly hadn't accounted for Daryl being willing to rush him, stumbles backwards and gives a surprised grunt when Daryl grabs for his gun. There's the sound of fingers breaking before Daryl gets the gun twisted out of the man's grasp.

The man is wide-eyed and flails his arms out in surrender. "You can't shoot me," He says quickly, half-sobbing and for a flash second he reminds Daryl of the kid who caused them so much grief at the farm - Randall. "They'll hear you and come running."

It's an excellent point, Daryl has to give him that, so he pulls the man from the floor by his shirt and knocks him back on the floor with a swing that sends daggers through his own ribcage. His vision is hazy, but he manages to pull Rick to his feet, the other man slowly waking as Daryl manhandles him. Rick is in no better shape than Daryl, but he takes the gun and lets Daryl support him to the broken window. They help each other through and duck behind shrubs, half-crawling in between the trees and out of sight.

The car they arrived in is parked behind the cabin and Daryl leaves Rick to search the car and goes to keep look out. He can hear shouting out front, arguing and haggling, and he moves back to the car, coming up at Rick's side just as the leader pulls his crossbow out of the trunk.

They arm themselves with a hunting knife they find and two guns that's half empty of bullets, but a treasure in their current situation. Rick also pulls out a shirt, probably discarded because it's more rag than actual clothes, but Rick isn't looking to wear it. Instead he bends his knee and straps the shirt around his thigh and shit, Daryl had forgotten all about that.

He'd been knocked out on the road, face planted in the snow, when he head the shot go off. For a few paralyzing seconds he thought they'd actually executed Rick right there on the road, but then he heard the yell of pain and a few fragments of the conversation and realized they had just grazed Rick in the thigh to get him to kneel. Daryl passed out from his own pain shortly after that.

The yelling out front is getting worse and Daryl taps Rick's shoulder, signaling for the other man to follow him out of the clearing and into the woods and Rick does.

"They'll be able to track us." Rick says as soon as they're far enough away and Daryl nods. Even a child would be able to follow their footprints in the snow and the traces of blood they're both leaving when they move, but there's nothing they can do to cover their tracks now.

"Gettin' dark soon." Daryl says, stopping Rick with a hand movement to listen for any sound that might indicate that people are following them. "We just need ta keep ahead and then we'll run in the dark."

Rick nods and grids his teeth, fights to his feet with help from Daryl and they move on. At one point two gunshots ring out behind them as the two groups apparently take their argument up a notch and Daryl takes that as a good sign, means no one will be following them any time soon.

When the darkness does come it's near instant between the heavy cover of the pines and Rick starts struggling to keep up.

"Daryl." Rick gasps as he stops running and Daryl has to remind himself that as tough as Rick is he's a hell of a lot less used to taking a blunt beating than Daryl is. He hasn't taken the time to check Rick's injuries, but he knows his own and if they don't find a place to hide up soon they'll both be dead before dawn.

"We've been followin' an old huntin' trail for a while an' I've seen a few old snares." Daryl says, searching Rick's face for a trace of any tenacity being left in the other man. "There's gotta be a cabin close by." He can't be sure, just goes off a hunch, but he needs to convince Rick and apparently it works, because Rick struggles to his feet, leaving a patch of blood behind that looks dark and excessive in the snow.

They do find the cabin, a crappy shack that seems to have been abandoned well before the Turn. Rick stumbles through the door first and Daryl follows, crossbow raised, but unsurprisingly the shack is both human and Walker free

"Home, sweet home." Daryl mumbles and goes to the window even though he knows there's nothing but darkness out there. The cabin is furnished only by a table with two chairs and a bed frame with no mattress. There's nothing they can wrap themselves up in to combat the cold, but at least they can burn the furniture.

Rick watches sceptically as Daryl builds the fire, but he doesn't ask if it's a good idea, knows as well as Daryl that they need one if they want to stay alive. Instead he upholsters his Colt and limps back out the door, comes back with his arms full of firewood.

As soon as the fire is big enough to keep them warm Rick takes off his jacket and begins examining his own injuries. Daryl knows he should be doing the same, but just moves closer to the fire, pretends he's still cold while he watches Rick strip off his shirt. It's dumb, he knows that, but he needs to see for himself that Rick isn't broken beyond repair.

It's the first time he sees the cut in Rick's side since Bob bandaged it and Daryl isn't surprised to see it's healed like shit. Rick never gave it a chance, kept moving around even though Carol tried to keep him still.

If the bruise on Rick's ribs had faded Daryl can't tell now. His whole side is deep red and swollen, looking a lot like Daryl did when he crashed on Merle's bike five years ago. The bruising continues onto his back and Daryl thinks they'll be lucky if there are no internal bleeding and no damage to Rick's kidneys.

"Ya look like a horse threw ya." Daryl says, trying not to let the worry bleed into his voice. Rick looks up and gives him a look that's on the verge of amusement, probably remembering how Daryl had looked when a horse threw him.

The look is gone, though, when Rick turns his attention to the bullet wound in his thigh, unwrapping the knot on the rag he used to bind it. Daryl pulls out the hunting knife they took from the trunk and with a nod from Rick he starts to cautiously cut the tear in the leader's pants bigger to reveal the wound there.

"We need ta cauterize that." Daryl says, knowing that binding it isn't going to do a damn thing to stop the bleeding on an open wound like that. He takes the hunting knife and ties it to a branch before he sticks it in between the burning logs, Rick's eyes on him where ever he moves.

"You're bleeding." Rick says, nodding towards Daryl's hands and Daryl realizes they're red with trails of blood.

"Not much." Daryl shrugs and it's true. He's going to be sore for days and he's pretty sure he has a molar that's a lost cause, but it's nothing compared to how bad it could have ended. But maybe he's the only one of them who finds a comfort in that, at least judging by the look on Rick's face.

"Let me see." Rick says, voice coarse with concern and Daryl only hesitates a few seconds before he sits down in front of Rick. He knows the other man needs this, needs the distraction as much as the knowledge that Daryl isn't bleeding out. So Daryl doesn't stop him when he strips Daryl of his jacket without waiting for permission or when he's pushing Daryl's shirt up his chest rather than unbuttoning it.

It's intimate in a way they've never been before, so unlike the usual clinical check-ups they do to determine the severity of an injury or the hasty brush of hands against skin to assure themselves that a close call had only been that, a close call.

The way Rick touches him now is more like the gentle way Glenn examines Maggie after a run that's gone bad or a hand-to-hand takedown of walkers. Rick lets his fingers run over more than one of Daryl's old scars, on his chest and on his back, but he doesn't linger. He finds the blooming bruises on Daryl's side and the broken ribs that Daryl's been ignoring the best he could, even finds the small cut on Daryl's collarbone, where one of the Reverend's men got a bit too eager with a knife.

" It's nothin'." Daryl says softly, but he's not about to stop Rick, would never dream of it. He allows Rick to dry the blood off with his own plaid shirt, hoping it'll help get that grim expression off Rick's face if he sees there's no harm done. "Yer da one who need stitches."

Rick isn't ready to have his nerves calmed, though, and when he accepts that the blood isn't coming from Daryl's body he grabs for Daryl's wrist instead, pushing the sleeve up to find the marks cut into Daryl's skin by the rope.

"When did they do this?" Rick asks, eyebrows going up.

"They didn't" Daryl says, pulling away from Rick's touch for the first time and he's not even sure why. "Was trying ta get free."

"And you did." Rick says and there's something sad in his voice, but it's warm and Daryl feels the words press their way into his chest like a praise.

"Someone had ta save ya." He says, suppressing the smile, because now isn't the time. Instead he pulls the knife out of the flames and wraps the sleeve of his jacket around the hilt so he can hold it in his hand.

"Grab hold." Daryl says, padding on his own thighs as he makes room for Rick between them. Rick looks like he wants to argue, like he is arguing inside his own head, but in the end he gives in and settles with his back to Daryl. The angle is awkward, because Rick has to bend the wounded leg and twist it so Daryl can get to the wound on the outside of the thigh.

"Trust me." Daryl soothes, because Rick is digging his fingers into the flesh of Daryl's thighs before Daryl has even started. Rick loosen his grip as he leans his head back against Daryl's shoulder to lock his eyes on the cob webs in the ceiling.

With learned precision Daryl presses the hot blade to the wound and Rick gives a deep, croaking scream that hangs in Daryl's ears. To keep himself from tossing Rick reaches back over his shoulder to get a hold, grabbing for anything he can reach and even as Daryl lifts the blade away Rick fists his hand into the hem of Daryl's shirt, reaching for the back of Daryl's neck. Daryl lets him, grounding Rick with a, "Breathe. It's over, just breathe."

He throws the knife on the floor, ignoring the pieces of Rick's skin that sticks to the blade. With a deep breath he wraps an arm around Rick's chest, padding the other man twice where his hand lands.

"Ya did good." Daryl says as much to himself as Rick, waits a few beats before he admits, "This run is ta worst idea ah ever had."

Rick smiles then and it might be the blood loss or maybe just be because they're alive, because they both though they were going to die but instead made it away, both of them relatively unharmed. All the same he looks ridiculous.

The moment Glenn spots their car turning in on the parking lot he begins to run towards them.

A soon as dawn broke over the woods they had been on their way. They had found a cluster of cars that had been abandoned on the highway and Daryl had picked the baby blue Hyundai, because it reminded him of something safe.

As they get out of the car they are met by calls of concern and hands ready to catch them as if they would crumble now after all they've already struggled through.

The Sargent and Sasha slings a barrage of questions at them, while Carol has too cover her mouth in horror as she sees the state they're in. Carl's wearing the Grimes patented look of anger and concern, but he slings his arms around Rick's chest and when Rick groans in pain Carl just mutters, "Deal with it."

"I'll explain." Rick says when he can catch his breath again, spurring on a new wave of questions that he brushes off with a shake of his head. "Later. First we have to move. The motel isn't safe anymore."

He and Rick had discussed it in the car, discussed the people who had arrived at the cabin and the shots that had been fired. They had weighed the chances of the Reverend still being alive and his ability to follow their car tracks from the Walker-bodies to the motel. They both agreed that if the Reverend was alive he would make finding their group his first priority, maybe even expecting to find it unprotected.

"We could go to Meybeth, the town we checked out yesterday?" Glenn purposes, earning nods from a few of the others, but not from the Sargent or Rosita. "There were people there. Good people."

"We'll discuss it when we've found another place to stay." Rick decides. "I can't make a call right now."

Glenn doesn't argue, knows better by now, and instead he runs to help Maggie down the stairs. It doesn't even take them ten minutes to evacuate the motel, bringing everything of value they can find.

Daryl wants to help, but when he tries to pick up a bundle of blankets his broken ribs sends daggers through his chest. Bob is at his side within seconds, but Daryl just shakes his head and says, "When we're safe."

"Safe from what exactly?" Bob asks, the first to even question Rick's call to move, but Daryl doesn't give him an answer.

Instead he presses a hand to his ribs and looks up at the sky, at the dark clouds forming and feels a rush of relief. There's a storm rolling in and Daryl thinks that if they're lucky the wind and drifting snow will cover their tracks behind them.

In a small town twenty miles up the road they find a closed street with just a handful of houses, all with fences around their yards. They barricade the road with the cars and snow and pieces of fence they can break off with out causing security holes.

It's a real house, clean and proper. Nothing seems to have been thrashed or looted and they find cans and preserved food in the pantry and a couple of bags of frozen greens in the freezer. They don't open the refrigerator.

They divide themselves in the four bedrooms in the house, the master bedroom going to Maggie with out any debate. Beth moves the crib from the nursery into the room as well and puts her and Judith's stuff there along with Tara, Maggie and Glenn's.

The Sargent takes the teenage-room for himself, Rosita and Eugene and the last room is a pink room with a bed that's too short to fit a grown up, but Carol, Tyreese, Bob and Sasha all move in there on mattresses they scavenge from other houses. Daryl and Michonne takes the nursery for themselves, Rick and Carl, but not until Michonne has cleared out any trace of baby toys.

When Bob finally gets permission to look the two of them over they're all gathered in the living room, listening to Rick explaining everything that went down after they arrived at the bodies Daryl and Glenn had found. He cleans Daryl's wrists with soft hands and even though he doesn't say anything Daryl can see the medic knows the determination it took Daryl to inflict injuries like that on himself. When he finds the broken ribs he sighs and shakes his head.

"I should tie you to your bed for a week." He says, ripping a crisp, white sheet from the cupboard into strips and pushes Daryl's arms in the air so he can bind his chest tightly. "But you'd probably just break the bed to get up." He teases with a crooked smile. Daryl just snorts.

When Bob is finished with Daryl Glenn is speaking, so when Bob turns on Rick the leader submits to the examinations without fussing.

"They were about 20 grown-ups and a handful of children." Glenn says, turning his eyes to Daryl as Rick strips down to his underwear. "They were set up like we are now, in a few guarded houses, fences and barricades to keep the walkers out."

"Heavy weapons?" Daryl asks, because big guns make noise and are often more effective against the living than the dead.

Glenn shakes his head. "But they did have some pretty genius alarms." He says and goes on to explain how they had rigged walker traps to baby alarms, but Daryl zones out, instead looking to Rick who is currently exchanging a few hushed words with Bob about the cauterized wound on his thigh.

"I'm sure these people were sweet folks." The Sargent says as soon as Glenn breaks for air. "But I think we have enough people and we sure as hell don't need more children, no offense Maggie."

"I was thinking we could stay there for a little while." Glenn says and his tone is not with out authority. "We need a place for Maggie to have the baby, a place that's safe."

"There aren't any Walkers out there." The Sargent says, "You said that yourself."

"But there's him." Glenn says, looking at Rick for support. "If he's out there looking for us? I don't want to take that risk when Maggie can't run or fight."

"He can't find us here, even if he is alive." The Sargent says and that's when Daryl realizes that the Sargent isn't against staying low for awhile while Maggie has the baby. He's a reasonable man and despite Rick's fears Daryl doesn't think the Sargent is willing to split the group apart. He just doesn't want to go to a town where they'll risk more problems, risk having more people depend on them and delay their journey once the snow starts melting. New people will either mean trouble or distractions at best.

"He tracked us down this time!" Glenn says loudly, looking as if he's about to continue when Rick cuts him off.

"He didn't track us, he knows where we're going." Rick says, winching when Bob tightens the bandage around his ribs.

"He can't know that." The Sargent protests, eyes finding Rosita who thunders back at him, "I didn't tell him a damn thing!"

"It doesn't matter, he knows." Rick insists.

"He left them Walkers as a sign ta us, to get our attention. We walked right at him." Daryl agrees, leaning back against the wall as they all turn their eyes on him. "He's bat-crazy an' he ain't stoppin' 'till he kills Rick."

"Why Rick?" Tyreese asks, reminding Daryl that he and Carol hadn't been with the group at that point.

"He thinks Rick is the a demon." Glenn says when no one else speaks up. "Before we found out he was holding Beth and that he was the one who'd kidnapped Rosita we talked to him. He seemed like a nice guy."

They always do, Daryl thinks, but he doesn't say it out loud, instead mumbling, "Crazy sumbitch."

"We told him what we'd been through, told him about the Governor and Woodsbury, about Terminus." Glenn continues. "And somehow, in his mind, Rick became some kind of destroyer."

"Didn't help when Rick found Beth and Rosita." The Sargent says. "And those two brainwashed girls he'd been keeping in the church."

Daryl hardly has time to register that Beth has scrambled to her feet, just watches as she runs from the room, tears down her face, but Tara follows her instantly. Maggie asks Glenn to pull her out of the couch and she follows her sister with a look of pained determination on her face.

"What happened to the other girls?" Carol asks, eyes still lingering on the staircase where Beth had disappeared.

"They stayed with him." Rosita says and there's a hard edge to her voice. "He had their heads twisted, Beth's too, I think." She stops and closes her eyes. "If anyone is a demon it's him."

"So he wants to kill Rick." Tyreese summarize. "Because he thinks Rick is a cold-blooded killer demon who destroys cities and took his toys away?" He says it in a tone that's meant to make the words ridiculous, but the thing is Daryl is very aware of the lost look in his leader's eyes. Rick thinks the Reverend is right and the wrongness of that, of Rick even allowing himself to go there, is making Daryl's throat tie up. And on top of that a few of them even have the nerves to look at Rick for a reaction.

"You're not a monster." Michonne says, the first one to read the look on Rick's face as well as Daryl had, and maybe it's because she reads people so well, or maybe it's because she's had to tell herself the same thing more than once. "We've all had to do things to stay alive. To keep people alive."

"Rick." Tyreese says, voice heavy. "You remember back in the prison, after Karen and David?" He looks to Carol and Daryl isn't sure when she'd told Tyreese what she had done, just that it had happened before the two of them rejoined their group. "I was being erratic and you knocked me on my ass."

Rick nods, eyes going dark. "And then some."

"And then after, you were so busy keeping everyone alive, keeping the prison going. Felt like you didn't care about finding out who'd done it. Felt like you didn't care about justice at all."

Rick looks like he's fighting himself not to buckle, not to run away, not to yell, not to give up. "I remember." He says, not even trying to defend himself.

"It took me a while." Tyreese says. "It took me forgiving Carol for what she'd done. Took me seeing what was left of Terminus, what you were willing to do." He sags in on himself. "This world ain't about what's good and what's bad. Not anymore. It's about what's right. It's about that wire you have to walk between good and bad to keep your friends alive."

Rick doesn't look convinced, but it's not until the four of them are settling in their room that Daryl continues the conversation. He hadn't wanted to do it in front of everyone, but now there's just the four of them and he doesn't want to have this conversation twice, decides it's better to end this now.

"It ain't about loosin' yerself, Rick." He says even though Rick is sitting with his back to them on the bed. "It's about adaptin'."

Rick turns his head and looks at Daryl over his shoulder, eyes big in the low light from the few candles they had been able to scavenge from the surrounding houses.

"Remember when ya gave Carl his gun back? That wasn't because ya gave up on 'im. That was because ya accepted that he needed it. Ya made yer peace with the fact that it just ain't the same world." He knows he's pushing the line, but this needs saying. For Rick's ears as much as for Carl's. "Carl looks ta his father.. Ya see yerself as a monster and Carl thinks that makes him one, too. Truth is yer both just willin' ta do what needs doing. We all do what we have to do to protect the people we love." Daryl finishes and like the coward he is he slips out of the room and leaves Rick to let the words sink in, leaves Michonne to mother the hurt look off Carl's face.

He crawls out of a window and sits on the snow-cowered roof until he's freezing, but a fist full of snow feels great against his lip, which he hadn't even realized had been split until Bob offered to clean it and give it butterfly tape. If Bob knew Daryl was sitting on a roof instead of nursing his broken ribs he'd probably make good on his threat to tie Daryl to a bed, so when he crawls back inside he tries his best to be quiet, slipping back into the darkness of their room and closing the door behind him as carefully as he can.

Carl is using Michonne's stomach as a pillow, his body angled away from hers in a way that takes up far too much of the mattresses they have pushed together on the floor. He considers joining them in a pile when he sees the dark figure of Rick, perching on the window still.

"Yer sitting here waiting fer me like a creeper?" Daryl asks quietly, knowing that at least Rick won't raise his voice at him when Carl is asleep.

"Maybe." Rick says and Daryl feels his heart leap, because Rick doesn't sound angry. "Maybe I just didn't want to sleep with out knowing you were safe."

"Yer ridiculous." Daryl finds himself saying as he strips his jacket off and ducks under the covers. It takes a while for Rick to join him in the bed and when he does it's hesitantly, as if he's not sure if Daryl wants him there. "You Grimes' might sooner die of worryin' than anythin' else. If ya were the man the Reverend claimed ya ta be, you think these people would still be here, followin' ya?" Daryl asks when Rick settles under the covers with a muffled hiss of pain. "We're all still here, ain't we?"

"You are." Rick agrees and there's a light graze of fingers over the bandages around Daryl's wrist and he doesn't need to turn his head to know that Rick is looking at him. "You are."

Turns out the clouds coming in had been full of snow and every trace of their movements are deleted come morning.

That's when Maggie's water breaks.

Carol and Sasha are in Maggie's room all day and the rest of them stay inside, listening to her screams. Daryl and Rick has been placed on each their couch, pumped up on painkillers while Tyreese has taken Lil'Asskicker. The two of them have bonded while they were on the road and when Judith gets mad and starts to fuss Tyreese takes her and presses her to his chest and sings her Don't Take the Girl.

Daryl drifts in and out of sleep and at noon he can feel the pain returning, but rather than asking for more of their precious painkillers he distracts himself by watching Carl, Beth and Tara playing monopoly on the floor.

"You can't do that," Tara complains as Carl demands to buy all her hotels. "Haven't you ever played this game before?"

"I was twelve when the world ended." Carl says as if that explains everything, but Tara just laughs.

"When I was twelve I was already out kissing girls." She says with a sly smile. "If you don't know the rules to monopoly your dad needs a spanking."

"Promise?" Rick deadpans, making Tara blush for the first time ever and they all laugh, except Beth who still wore a look that was near unbearable.

Tara notice too, reaches over to take Beth's hand and gives it a squeeze. Beth looks up and her Disney eyes finds Tara's with a shy smile that's so precious that Daryl wants to give Tara the "if you ever break her heart I swear to God"-speech right then and there, because if anyone deserves to be happy it's Beth.

Daryl remembers right after they left the Farm, remembers how broken the girl had been. Within the span of a few weeks she had lost her mother, her reserve-mother, her boyfriend and her home. Daryl knew she had been in a bad state for a few days after they shoot the Walkers in the barn, but after the farm was overrun no one had time to hold her hand. Even though Lori tried she had her own problems with Rick and Maggie was busy keeping Hershel from going under.

Daryl never knew why he took it upon himself to pull her back. Maybe it was because he overheard Lori worrying to Carol about the girl trying to take her own life again. Hell, Daryl wasn't a headshrinker, but he knew damn well how dark it could get, how easy it could seem to end it all. But Daryl had been stronger than that and he'd made Andrea realize that she was stronger too. He'd be damned if he couldn't make a self-centered teen realize the same thing.

One afternoon they were camped out next to a shallow lake and the group felt safe enough to do things like bathing and washing their clothes and Maggie and Glenn felt safe enough to sneak off into the words near by, Beth's eyes following them as the disappeared.

"'Least they're being discreet about it," Daryl had commented quietly, holding the arrow he was making up to his eye to evaluate if it needed any corrections. When he had glanced back at her, she was looking caught out and flushed.

"It's not any of my business, just..." She trailed off, like there really wasn't supposed to be anything at the end of that sentence.

"Jus' what?"

"Must be nice." She had finally said, eyes still not meeting Daryl's.

"They'll just get their asses bit by mosquitoes."

"Not that. Not the sex, I mean." She had blushed even more. "Just, the world is ending and all they care about is taking all the pleasure they can get while they have the chance. Guess I'm just too afraid to let anyone new in, you know?"

"Yer will someday" Daryl had said, realizing that her sadness wasn't for the ones she'd lost, but for the ones she feared she'd never get. "Yer sister found Glenn, didn't she?"

She'd looked stubborn then and stubborn was good. Stubborn was one step away from being strong.

"Maybe you could find someone too," She had raised her baby blues to stare him down. "If you ever bothered with the people who care about you." It had barely been more than a whisper, buy it had hit Daryl like a punch in the guts.

It's getting dark outside when Maggie's screams stop and another, much higher-pitched scream starts.

They all stop what ever they're doing, except Judith who begins to cry in sympathy. Daryl struggles to his feet and drifts towards the door, just as Glenn walks through it, the biggest grin on his face.

"I'm a dad." Glenn whispers. "I'm a baby daddy."

Daryl opens his arms and Glenn walks right into him, letting Daryl cup the back of his head and spin him half a circle before he has to give up, placing a soft kiss on Glenn's hair instead. There's pain all over his body, but Daryl thinks it worth it because their family just got bigger.

"Congrats man." He says, looking over Glenn's head to see Michonne resting her head on Rick's shoulder, Carl at her side in a one-armed hug.

"It's a boy." Glenn says, as if he's just now remembering that the gender is a thing people want to know, too.

"Can we see him?" Beth says, light on her face like Daryl hasn't seen it since the prison.

"Yeah, Yes. Please come meet my son." Glenn says and he leads the way into the master bedroom, where Maggie is resting with a bundle on her chest. She looks absolutely worn out, but she still has a soft smile on her face, eyes glued to the miracle she's spend nine months growing in her belly.

"Can we name him Herschel?" Maggie asks and there's a moment of silence where they all feel a tug of pain.

"No." Glenn says and it's enough to take the smile off Maggie's face, but he continues quickly. "Look, I know the world is ending and I know you want something to hold on to. I want you to have that, I do. But I still think that babies should have their own name, not the name of someone who's dead. So I was thinking we could name him Seamus, because that's the only Irish boys name I know."

"That..." Maggie frowns. "Actually makes sense. It's dumb, but it makes sense." And then her frown splits into a wide smile. "How about that baby boy?" She coos. "Do you want to be named Seamus?"

Daryl feels the hand on his shoulder and he doesn't have to turn his head to know it's Rick's, to know that when he backs up a step Rick is right there. With a smile on his face his own hand comes up to cover Rick's, ignoring the way his wrist hurts when he squeezes the other man's hand.