Hello hello! Been a little while since I updated, but I managed to get there! The plot is started to thicken up now and I'm hoping that my updates will get quicker. Thank you for all the reviews, please keep them coming I love them! Also hello to all the new followers and I hope the slow updating hasn't put you off! So yes, please review, let me know what you're all thinking, how it's going. Hell, throw in some suggestions if you have any!

Onwards, dear readers!

Now

Everything stopped.

Time. Sound. His breathing. The biters, swarming around him.

Al he could see, all he could focus on, was her arm protruding from under the fence.

"..ryl… DARYL!"

He sucked in a sharp breath, reality crashing back into him hard enough to stagger. Throwing a glance to the left, he spotted a walker, and without hesitation the hunter whipped up his crossbow and fired a shot. The rotting corpse fell down heavily, but there were more already climbing over it. The others had arrived, he could see them in his peripheral, fighting to get to the fence before the things realised there was a human underneath it.

"Maggie, to the right! Beth - take Carl away!"

"Dad, no-"

"I'm not arguing with you Carl. Go, now!"

Daryl could hear the familiar grunt, hit, bang, cry of the walkers being fought and yet it still didn't seem to penetrate his mind. He aimed. He felt the weapon tense in his grip before the bolts went flying. It was familiar, the slight sting of impact as the crossbow recoiled and the following thud of the bolt making contact.

His body moved. His arms swayed side to side. But it didn't seem like they were making a dent. She was still under the fence. She was still being crushed.

"You don't talk very much."

"You talk too much."

"Anyone ever tell you how much of a charmer you are, Daryl? Can I call you Daryl?"

"No."

"Well, Daryl - I'm calling you that - since I'm with you now and you've sworn to protect me-"

"Listen girlie."

He grabs her arm, they turn. She's facing him. All big blue eyes and frazzled black locks. Her big eyes get impossibly bigger, and something in him wants to stop the words. Like he wanted to be nice but had long since forgotten how.

"Don't talk to me. Don't ask me questions. I don't care who you are, I don't give a damn what your favourite colour is. Stay quiet, stay quick, and you'll stay alive. Fall down and I ain't picking you up. Ya hear me?"

She looks at him. Long sweeps of those cobalt eyes under dark lashes. It ain't hard to see the sadness pooling there, but his stern expression never lessens. He's harsh, he knows this. She needs to know too. She needs to learn how to survive, and survival with him meant silence and obedience.

He waits for her reply. If she don't answer, then she don't come.

"You don't scare me, you know."

He could have laughed, especially with the tremble in her voice. He stands tall and faces her, gathering his height. Not like he has to gather much, she's barely at his chest.

"No? You better rethink that."

Then she looks up. She meets his eyes. And for a moment he's stunned. So much fire, burning on hate and pain. It's so familiar that he has to look away.

He hesitates a moment, his mind racing to recalculate his opinion of the whelp. That look changes his perspective and he'd need a bit of time to deal with it. Part of him expects a smart comment, but she says nothing. That look said it all.

He'd have to watch this one, he thinks as he pulls his crossbow higher on his shoulder. He's turned from her, but they're moving again. She'd probably stab in the back just as quickly as she'd help him up. A wild fire, this one. Goddamn it. /i

"Daryl!"

Focus came back with enough force to stagger him, and his senses tried to take it all in at once. He was further back now, holding his crossbow high but not yet pulled the trigger. He was out of bolts and the walkers had been pushed back enough so they weren't trampling on the fence. Glen, Maggie and Carol were fighting off the few biters still standing while Rick, Beth and Tyreese were pulling the dead ones off the fence.

Rick was red in the face as he hollered Daryl's name again, and this time he was moving before he could stop himself. He launched himself forward, throwing his crossbow over his back before landing in front of the gate already hunched over. His hands grabbed at torn material and his whole body worked to haul off as many dead ones he could. Sweat ran rivets down his temples and cheeks but he refused to slow down. It wasn't until he pulled off another one that he caught a glimpse of a pale hand pressed against the mud by the links in the fence.

"Over here!"

Daryl pushed off from the fence, grabbing the edge and pulling up with enough force to feel something pop and tear in his bicep. The pain made him grunt, but he didn't let go. His breath escaped his closed lips in harsh pants, but it was mere seconds before Rick and Tyreese were at his side. The three of them lifted the fence, the new slope making the dead biters roll over the links and pile at the end.

He could see her, curled on her left hip with her legs pulled up and her face against the mud. As the pressure of the fence was lifted off her body he could hear her letting out groans as she slowly wound herself together with her legs against her chest.

"Beth! Maggie!"

Daryl saw the two women already racing forward, Maggie diving under the fence without so much as a breath. She crawled under, the three men straining under the weight of solid metal. Daryl could feel his hands slipping against the edge, his nails biting into it so he wouldn't let go.

"Get her out!" roared Rick as he took a step back to brace himself. Tyreese wasn't speak, but he was controlling his breathing as his arms trembled. They wouldn't be able to hold it much longer.

Beth had throwing herself under the fence and together the two girls were dragging Alice out by her arms. Her eyes were covered by her hair, but he could see how pale she looked and how hard she was biting her lower lip.

"We're clear!"

Without another word, the three men stepped back and let the fence drop, the echoing boom no doubt attracting the attention of a hundred walkers. They would have to deal with it later, he decided, wiping his hands on his thighs as he moved towards the three figures huddled on the grass.

"Is she alive?"

It took Daryl a moment to realise those words had come from his own lips. Alice was huddled back into the same kind of fetal position as she was under the gate, and he could already see the crisscross of bruises staining her cheeks.

Maggie was hunched over her, whispering quietly. Daryl could already see Rick, Tyreese and others against the fence, shifting out the bodies and no doubt coming out with a plan on how to fix it. He could see Rick throwing a few glances towards Beth, Maggie and Alice, but no one else went over.

It flushed his cheeks with anger as he stalked across the grass. His mouth opened to demand an answer just as Maggie pulled back, a hand raised and her skin painted with blood. She shared a stark look of surprise with Beth before the two of them scrambled to their feet.

"Is she alive?" he tried, more panic in his voice now than the stern demand he'd first intended.

"We need to get her to my pa, now."

Daryl turned to Maggie and frowned, looking at the blood on her hands back to the huddled figure on the floor. He couldn't see any bites, couldn't see any scratches.

"Daryl now! We can't carry her. Bethy, go tell daddy."

The young blond nodded, her eyes wide as she raced off back towards the prison. Daryl watched as Maggie leaned down, still speaking softly.

"No...no… please don't!" yelped Alice, her voice so pained as she tried to curl back in on herself. Maggie was pulling her arms but the younger girl kept yanking them back and wrapping them around her stomach.

"Ali, you need to see my daddy," said Maggie gently, but Alice only let out another yelp.

Seeing the rising panic in Maggie's face, Daryl pushed the crossbow further over his shoulder and leaned down. As he tried to hook his arm under her legs, Alice yelped again and writhed away from him.

"Settle down girl," he rasped, managing to get under her legs but not her head. Alice's whole body stiffened as she no doubt recognised his voice, raising her head to set those hell fire eyes on him.

"You stay away from me." Her voice shook, her face was so pale he could see the veins in her neck. Sweat was beading on her upper lip and her eyes were starting to glaze over. Something wasn't right.

Just as he hooked his arm under her head, Alice sucked in a sharp breath. He hauled her up as the first long, agonised howl came from her throat, setting all eyes to the two of them.

"Fuck! It hurts, oh my God... " she sobbed. He held her closer and still she tried to curl in on herself, which only had her curling closer into his chest. He bore the brunt of her weight, setting his arms right before she let out another howl.

"Come on," snapped Maggie, and he gave a nod. The two of them moved as quickly as they could, Daryl trying not to jar her as she continued to writhe in his grasp. At one point he nearly dropped her, shaking her body as he got a firmer grip. She only sobbed louder.

Bethany met them at the door, throwing it open in time for Daryl to race through. The cooler air in the prison hit him instantly, but it was no relief as he plowed through the hallways until they got to Cell Block C.

Hershel stood against the bars of a cell, his body jumping to motion as soon as he saw them. He ushered them in, Daryl half jogging now before he stepped inside and slowly laid her out on the bed.

She moaned and turned to her side, only to groan and turn to the other. As Hershel and Maggie joined them, the old vet moving over first, Daryl found himself looking into her face. He started as he saw the blue depths boring into him, and for the first time since she'd arrived, he didn't see hate. Instead he just saw sadness.

Time seemed to go quicker than he could keep up with after that. He'd been ushered out of the room by Maggie and a flurry of chaos started in the cell. The guy they'd picked up a few weeks back, Bob, came rushing in a few minutes later and Daryl could do nothing but stand by the back staircase. He'd simply remained stoic as Alice's cries of pain ricocheted around the cell block, drawing in a number of people before they couldn't stomach it any more and went away. Rick came through to check on her, but a peek through the doorway had caused the man to pale and he'd moved off without another word.

The only kind of time gauge was the steadily lowering sun, casting shadows around the cell block. More than once Bethany had run out, her arms laden with bloodied towels and sheets before she was back in a heartbeat with a handful more of clean ones.

Each time she refused to look at him, and he was forced to stand there. It might have been easier if he'd gone back outside, maybe helped put the fence back up. It would have been better than sitting there and waiting, listening to the cries and sobs and screams vibrating in his skull.

Even when the noise was over, his ears rang from it. Maybe her voice had finally broken. Maybe she had finally passed out.

As his mind raced over the possibilities of silence, the door to Alice's cell suddenly swung open. It didn't hit the wall with a loud bang, there was no force behind it. Instead the room was filled with an eerie creak, the door gliding as if guided by an invisible force. Daryl felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle just as a figure stepped from the cell.

He'd half expected Alice, maybe covered in gore, a walker after she'd killed Hershel and Maggie. But the girl stepping from the cell was taller, her bright blond hair marred with dirt and blood. It was smeared over her cheek, soiled on her clothing. She held another arm full of bloodied towels, but this one seemed different. This one was a smaller bundle, light flecks of water and deep lashes of blood so dark it seemed red.

Beth turned, her face white and cheeks hollow before she raised her pale blue eyes up to him. Track marks ran down her cheeks, and her eyes were still overflowing. Daryl took a step forward, but stopped and examined the bundle again. It was hastily wrapped, and through the gap in a fold he caught a glimpse of something pink and fleshy.

Beth continued walking, moving towards him but looking past him. She shook her head as he reached out, side stepping him and sniffing in harshly before she picked up her pace. Daryl watched her go as the silence of the cell block weighed on his shoulders.

He understood now. And that understanding came with a crushing pressure on his chest.

"...not sure if there will be an infection."

The mumbled words wafted to his ears, and the hunter made his way to stand at the lip of the cell. Hershel and Bob stood at the bottom of the bunk bed, talking in hushed whispers. Maggie was kneeling at the side of the bunk, her arms and hands stained red, her hair sticking out wildly with strands glued to her sweaty forehead. She was half leaning over the bunk, one hand wrapped firmly around a smaller, more lithe palm.

Alice was out cold. Her lower half was wrapped in semi-clean sheets, her top half barely covered by a damp vest. Her skin was impossibly white, her body still coated in a fine sheen of sweat. Her black hair haloed her head, only making her skin seem paler.

"Daryl?"

The hunter glanced up in one quick movement, startled out of his reverie of melancholy. He could feel the sadness pressing on the air, and his earlier suspicions only seemed to solidify.

"What happened?" he rasped, his voice scratchy from disuse.

Bob sighed heavily and shook his head while Hershel set his sad eyes on Daryl. It was the older man who stepped forward, heaving a long breath as he turned to look at the fragile girl on the bunk.

"What we think happened was as the fence came down, she was crushed on her front. We think the placenta came away and she started to miscarry and… well."

Daryl saw Maggie lift her head, her eyes sparkling and cheeks mirroring the same track marks. The hunter knew what she was gonna say before she even opened her mouth.

"She lost the baby."

I remember, when I was young, my dad used to pick me up so high that it felt like I was flying. He'd hold me, his palms to my hips, and raise me above his head like I was a feather. Then, I would stretch out my arms and legs and he'd spin me around so fast that I was floating on nothing but air.

Strange how similar it felt. Just floating. Kind of swaying towards the dark of unconsciousness, or the grey of waking up. I wanted to do neither.

The best way to describe it would be a kind of in-between. I read a book once about a girl being murdered and she followed the world as a kind of spirit. She used to call it the in-between. It was a good description.

Neither awake nor asleep, simply moving by with little to no sense. It was nice. Painless.

Sometimes I would get close enough to the edge of wakefulness that I could feel. Pin pricks down my legs, up my back, before a rush of aching in my stomach and lower abdomen. That was all it would take for me to shy away.

Part of me knew there was something else wrong, too. Something that my brain couldn't quite face, so instead I was washed back into sea of floating.

In time, I would wake up. In time, I would realise that I had a raging infection and I was out of it for nearly five days. In time, I would have to face the fact that my baby was dead.