Nox: I like my Jaryl, compared to others. Everyone has this special bond set up between them already, like they've been spending so much time together. But Daryl hasn't been in the prison enough for that to happen, and Beth and Carol are the ones who spend the most time with her. So I like to think my take on them is different.

Disclaimer: The Walking Dead belongs to Kirkman and AMC.

Sunlight

"I don't think we have much time left," he said, in that slow drawl of his that always made Daryl wish he had had a father like him. Sometimes the man really did have a way to make people listen. Course, he'd never tell Hershel that.

The four of them were huddled in the corner of the cell block, shouldered in close.

"I agree," Rick said, looking around at the group. "It don't feel right. Been too quiet. If that assholes gonna make his move, he's gonna do it while he thinks we're not lookin'." He looked over at Carl, who was talking quietly with Beth, a smile working its way on his face.

"We need to prepare ourselves, in case he decides to make a move." Glenn nodded in agreement, his eyes finding Maggie, who stood off to the side with Carol. They were smiling and playing with Judith, their faces lit up, happy.

"You're sure he'll come?" Glenn asked, worry in his eyes. Rick and Hershel looked at each, but didn't speak. Rick knew he would come. After his chat with the man, there wasn't a question as to 'if'. It was a matter of when.

"Then we need to be ready," Daryl announced, crossing his arms. "Ain't that what we do? We dealt with people 'fore." Rick connected with Hershel, and then looked back at Daryl and nodded.

"But we keep this to ourselves," and Rick glanced around, at the women in the prison. "Don't need to panic everyone." They all nodded in agreement.

"I'll make sure Carol has some medical supplies, things for Judith," Hershel said, eyes watching the girls. "Just in case," he said softly. He hobbled off, and Glenn followed him. Rick clapped Daryl on the shoulder and went over to Carl, talking down to him.

But Daryl didn't move, because Carol was watching him now, Judith passed off to Maggie, while Hershel talked to her.

She had that look on her face, like she knew exactly what was happening. He told himself he'd be ready for it, when the time came. Told himself that he wouldn't worry bout her.

But he always worried about her.

"Daryl," she said, inspecting the open wound. She poked at it, softly, like she'd never seen anything like it before. "What are ya gonna do about it?" He watched her curious face. He was glad she wasn't disgusted by it, else he would a had another problem on his hands. Least she'd gotten somethin' right.

He sat silent for a moment, thinking on it. He'd been a fuckin' idiot, lettin' himself get hurt like this. He needed to be at his best, to take care a Judith. She weren't an ass kicker yet but he planned to make one of her. And now he had a gash runnin' across his leg, between his knee and ankle. Blood ran down his ankle, and it hurt like hell.

That's what he got for trying to squeeze between too many cars, letting his leg hang off the bike to balance them. He should a left well enough alone and gone around the cars. But then they'd have wasted gas and daylight.

Then he looked up, to hear something that she was saying and missed the scrap of metal jutting out from a car; jagged and sharp. Slid right across his damn leg, and he couldn't stop the hiss as it escaped passed his lips. He thought Jude was gonna bust a blood vessel she was so worried for a moment.

He just couldn't fuckin' win.

He studied the wound, while Judith watched his face closely. The best he could do would be to put a few stitches in it, and wrap it up. He thought he still had a bottle of whiskey in his bag on the bike, but it'd been a while since he'd checked.

"Jude, in my saddlebags," he said, gesturing at the Triumph. She jumped up, eager to help.

She'd been that way, ever since they'd passed up the people she'd seen on the road. Eager to please, eager to work, eager to learn.

Eager to be a part of everything.

She wanted to learn more. It was like she suddenly had this hunger, and she needed to know what he knew. He was wondering if he could keep up with her. She had all these question suddenly that he was starting to wonder if Carol hadn't talked to her about. Things she would a discussed with her brother.

He was starting to get worried he wasn't going to have the right answers.

She pulled open the flap, and turned to him, waiting. "See if I've got a bottle a Jack in there." Her brows furrowed but she started rummaging around.

Pulled out his now very small stash a drugs, and made face before setting them on the ground beside her. He remembered Carol explaining is some small detail what each and every one was, by the words on them, and color. He was glad she had. Then she pulled out the bottle a water, some jerky, the magazine of skins he never got rid, that were really Merle's. He groaned.

"What is-"

"Just find the Jack." She raised an eyebrow at him, pursing her lips, biting the bottom one, and he was hit by the familiarity of that look. He felt his heart twist, and he swallowed hard. Carol used to give him that look. He was really starting to realize just how much she picked up from Carol.

"Here," she said holding out the bottle of alcohol, looking like she'd seen a ghost. He gripped it by the neck, letting his fingers graze over the back of her hand. He held his finger against the back of her hand.

"What's wrong?" he asked softly, eyes lingering on hers. Her lids dropped, shading her eyes, and she shifted on her feet. She pulled her hand back, and sniffed.

"Judy," he said, soft, reaching out to take her hand, pulling her closer. He didn't usually call her by that, because it has always been Carol's name for her. Had always been something between them. He'd not wanted to step on that, didn't want to make her sadder than she already was.

"What's wrong?" She picked her head up, and pulled her hand from behind her back.

She had Carol's head wrap in her hand, holding it loosely. It was dirty now, fraying at the edges, holes all over the place. It had seen better days.

"This was Carol's," she muttered, pulling it close to her body, bending her head low to breathe it in. She closed her eyes and he saw a few tears fall down her cheeks. And then she pulled the picture out, the one he'd wrapped the scarf around.

"And this was Carl's." She barely managed to choke it out, before she hiccupped. It was a picture of Rick, Lori and Carl, taken long before shit had hit the fan. Carl'd gotten it on a run once, back when they'd still been at the prison. It was faded, bent, graying. But you could still see the loving family in the picture.

He cursed. He weren't good at this stuff. The girl's had always been the ones to wipe those tears away, to hug her close, to make her feel better. Hell, even Carl knew how to do that shit.

"Shit," he muttered, rubbing a hand across his face, rolling his shoulders. She buried her face in the wrap, and he watched her shoulders shake, no sound coming outta her.

It felt like a knife was being twisted in his gut. He either needed to figure out how to comfort her, or he just had to tell her to suck it up. Neither of which he wanted, or knew how to do.

He sighed. Watching her struggle with the grief of losing the two people she'd known the longest in her life, he knew he definitely wasn't going to tell her to suck it up.

"Come'ere Ass Kicker," he said softly, using his old nickname, and pulled her into his lap. She didn't protest. Just curled her legs to her chest, put her head on his shoulder. She stared down at the picture in her hands, fingers tracing over the faces he knew she could barely recognize now, the one she'd never known.

"I miss her Daryl," she said, the tears falling silently now, "I miss my brother," she sniffed, her fingers tracing over Carl's face now, young and innocent in a photo that looked like another world.

He wrapped his arm around her, setting his chin on her head, taking a deep breath.

"I know Jude, but it's how the world works." She leaned back, looking up at him with those big brown eyes of hers that were rimmed red.

She cocked an eyebrow. "What?" he asked. She smiled a little and fingered the cloth. "Carol was always better at this stuff." He grunted and knocked his forehead with hers. Her smile broadened.

"Yer a smart girl Jude. You gonna figure out one day that I ain't nothin' but a stupid old redneck who can't do nothin' but hunt an' kill walkers." She looked confused, and he couldn't help the way his chest tightened at the way her brow furrowed.

"What's a redneck?" He laughed then, the action shaking her body. He looked her in the face, brushed the hair out of her eyes and then did something he'd not done before.

He leaned forward and brushed his lips across her forehead.

She took it like it was something he'd been doing her whole life, the smile lighting up her face.

"Carol was right you know," she said, playing with one of his buttons now, "you are sweet."

He could feel the blush rising on his face. But it felt at odds with the heaviness in his chest. And he didn't know what to do or say, so he just grunted, cleared his throat and pulled the wrap from her hands and put it around her neck.

"You want the picture, or should I hold onto it?" She held it in her hands, fingers playing with the edges.

"You should, just in case," she said finally, looking up to meet his gaze. She went to hand it back to him, but he pushed it away, shaking his head.

"Put it back where ya got it." She jumped up, went for the saddlebags again.

"I got some needle and thread in my bags, don't I?" She looked back, and nodded. "Bring'em here then." She rifled through his things, her eyes lighting up when she found them, and he could see that some of the weight was gone from her eyes when walked back to him.

"Carol showed ya how to thread, didn't she?" Judith nodded, lips pressed tight together. "Well she learned from this old man, few years back. Had only one leg," and he smiled as her eyes popped open.

"Poppop," she whispered. He wasn't all that surprised that she referred to old farmer as her Paw, but he was glad she knew him as family. Even if she'd never met him before.

"Yeah, well, Carol learned it all from him." Judith's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"With one leg?" He chuckled and patted the space next to his leg.

"You'd be surprised what 'Poppop' could do with just one leg," he said solemnly.

"You've got to go," he said, waving them all off. Beth rushed forward, crashing into Hershel, the sobs starting to break from her.

"No daddy, you can make it. We'll help you," she begged. But he just shook his head, shifting on the crutches so that he could wrap an arm around her.

"No Bethie," he said sadly, looking at Maggie as he placed his cheek on her head. "I'll only hold ya back." Maggie rushed forward into her father's arms, her own cries bursting forth. Glenn stood back, his face falling as Hershel's choice crashed over him.

"You don't have to do this," he whispered harshly.

Daryl could barely make out what was going on. There was too much gunfire, too many walkers, too many men running around. The Governor had made good on his promise, to come for them.

And there was Carol, with ass kicker clasped to her chest. Juditch was crying, but Carol was doing her best to keep those cries quiet.

"Daryl, what's going on?" He heard the walkers before he saw them. Four of them came hobbling around a bend of trees, out of the shadows.

"It's the doc," he said hoarsely. Her eyes went wide. And she knew immediately what he was talking about, what he meant.

"Can you get to them?" she asked, but she must have seen the look in his eyes because she reached out and grasped his arm, softly.

"Then…" She struggled to say the words, and Judith cried out again. She rocked back and forth softly, shushing her.

He took down two of the walkers and watched as Glenn pulled Maggie and Beth out of Hershel's arms, and into the smoke and shadows of the trees. Rick appeared, gun hanging uselessly at his side.

"Hershel," he said gravely. And a moment passed between the men. But Hershel just shook his head, and smiled sadly.

"You have to go," he shouted. Hershel took a few more steps, and then collapsed to the ground, breathing heavy. Rick hesitated for only a moment, and then took off.

"Daryl!" He looked back, Carol already moving far ahead of him.

Gunfire exploded around him, and he saw more walkers making their way. He couldn't get to the old man.

And his last image was of Hershel looking up through trees, peaceful, as the fading sunlight shone down on him, the gunfire tearing into him.

A/N: Hershel has become one of my favorites. And I hate to see him go.