I'm so sorry for the extremely long wait, everyone! I never knew just how busy college makes a person, regardless of the amount of free time I have. I'll be trying to work in some time to write during the remainder of the semester. So here's the next chapter, and I apologize for it being short. I just wanted an update on this story, and I'll hopefully be working on the next chapter shortly. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead or Merlin.

"Oh my God," Merlin murmured thickly, the edges of his eyes crinkling as a sort of wild happiness erupted across his face, and the raven-haired man dropped his weapons and advanced toward Arthur as fast as his exhausted feet would allow.

Arthur immediately dropped the crossbow, barely registering the clatter it made as it connected with the dirt ground as Merlin reached him and threw his arms around his neck, a dry sob wracking through his thin frame. Arthur returned the embrace fiercely, burying his face into his friend's hair, uncaring of the dirt and grime coating the black locks as he reveled in Merlin's presence.

Merlin was sobbing into his shoulder, and Arthur felt the tears running down the skin of his shoulder, felt the filth that covered Merlin now covering him, but not finding it in himself to care as he held his best friend in his arms after what seemed like centuries of not seeing him, (perhaps it was), whispering soothing words into Merlin's ear while trying to soothe himself as well.

"Oh my God," Merlin disbelieving, muffled voice repeated, and Arthur's grip only tightened.

Reluctantly, they pulled away from each other, but remained in close proximity. Merlin kept his hands on Arthur's forearms, leaving him at arm's length. "Arthur… How-"

"I was hoping that you could explain it to me, Merlin," Arthur said, smiling brightly past his red-rimmed eyes. "And we will talk, I promise." Arthur then turned serious, eyes flickering behind him. "But right now, this man needs help." He stepped slightly over to the side to reveal Daryl's still form.

Quickly, the physician in Merlin took over and he walked forward, dropping next to Daryl in a crouch. The gruff man's chest was heaving slightly with air, so he was still alive; however, one glance at his clammy, feverish skin indicated that he needed help. And soon.

"Is he alone?" Merlin asked, looking back at Arthur. Arthur shook his head.

"He mentioned that he was looking for a girl, and that he had people to go back to. I'm pretty sure I can track where he came from."

"They have to be nearby then," Merlin nodded, checking over Daryl's wound, wincing at Daryl's low groan and at the state of the injury. "We have to get him to them. I can't help him here."

Arthur nodded, and together they placed each of Daryl's arms over a set of shoulders, Arthur hauling the crossbow onto his shoulder once more, and they all set off down the path.

xXx

A cry ripped through the air at the Greene family farm.

"Rick! Rick! Someone's coming!"

The sheriff quickly sprinted towards the sound of Andrea's voice, meeting Dale at the back of the RV. The old man handed Rick his binoculars wordlessly, pointing at the tree line. Rick placed the binoculars to his eyes, and sure enough, he could make out the figures of two, maybe three people slowly making their way toward the farm.

"One's hurt," Rick observed, lowering the binoculars and facing Shane, who had limped as fast as he could to them as soon as Andrea shouted out. "Let's go meet them." By then, Glenn and T-Dog had also reached them and were gathering their own proper weapons.

"What if they're trouble, man?" Shane muttered, his fingers twitching toward his gun.

"It's you, me, Glenn, and T-Dog against two of them," Rick stated, holstering his gun while handing off an ax to Shane. "I think we'll be just fine."

Shane furrowed his brow and shrugged indifferently.

"I got you covered, in case something does go down," Andrea said from where she was on top of the RV.

Rick nodded. "Let's go!"

xXx

"That's it, that has to be it," Arthur growled with the dead weight of Daryl on his shoulders. Merlin grunted in response, lifting Daryl to a more comfortable position. Panting, Merlin looked up.

"A-Arthur," he whispered. "There are people coming."

Arthur lifted his head as far at the pain in his neck would allow him and saw that Merlin was right.

Four men were approaching them at a run, and one of them, though limping badly, was wielding an ax. Arthur slowed down to a stop, turning his head awkwardly to face Merlin past Daryl. "No sudden movements, Merlin. They may be his people; we don't want to get on their bad side."

Merlin only had time to nod before the men reached them. Merlin widened his eyes at the gun the man in front was pointing at them.

"Who are you?" The assumed leader of the group spoke, his rough, southern accent low and dangerous.

Before Arthur or Merlin had a chance to respond, the Asian man on his right gasped. "Rick? Th-that's Daryl! What are you doing with Daryl?"

"Please," Arthur gasped, lifting Daryl once again higher onto his shoulders. "We mean you no harm. Daryl saved my life. He was looking for a girl. Sophia, I believe."

The Asian boy and the black man exchanged wide-eyed glances, the man with the ax scowled, but the leader grew a bit more pensive at this information. He at least lowered his gun.

"How did you find us?" he asked.

"Daryl was going down a certain path before he were just trying to find his camp so that he gets help. Please, he's badly hurt!" Merlin pleaded, shifting Daryl once again.

Almost at once, the four men seemed noticed the bloodied make-shift bandage on Daryl's side that was still steadily seeping out blood, and his feverish, unconscious state. The leader at once began barking orders at the men at his side. The Asian and the black man quickly moved forward, depositing Daryl onto their own shoulders. Merlin and Arthur gave sighs of relief in unison, rubbing the pain and soreness out of their shoulders.

The Asian muttered a quick word of thanks, and the black man nodded in acknowledgement, before they set off toward the farm.

"Come with us," Rick said, turning and following the small party. Merlin and Arthur hesitated, glancing at each other.

"You heard 'im, man, move!" The ax-wielder bellowed, pointing the ax head at the two threateningly.

Arthur glared. "I don't-"

"Arthur, don't." The small murmur of Merlin's voice halted Arthur in his tracks. Grudgingly, Arthur set his jaw and fell into step with Merlin, following the group to the farm, the ax-wielder limping behind them.