Disclaimer – I own nothing.

A/N: Second of the mega-chapter. Yeah, good move to post as two. It would have been around 9,000+ words in the end as one. Oops. Some more Glenn and a bit more of Maggie. And a little bit of Glenn and Maggie…with as little as possible romance in there as I could get away with. Romance…blurgh.

Also, yes, I promised I would put it up quicker. I am a bad fanfiction-er – I had a bit of a re-write because I. JUST. CAN'T. HELP. MYSELF! This is now the longest chapter by far though.

Finally, I literally had the nicest review I've ever had on the last chapter (looking at you, WTFdoUwantNOW) so wanted to shout that out here. Thank you so much for that. Really. I had the warm and fuzzies and everything reading it. You kind of melted the ice woman.

Thank you to everyone who has cared to read, favourite, follow or review this.

Chapter Seventeen

Glenn might like thank the universe that his isn't an alpha male. He might be able to appreciate his ability to take a step back from situations and use words instead of fists from time to time but sometimes he cursed it too. Sometimes he wished he was more of a man of action. More of a Rick or a Daryl. Hell, even a Shane; without the trying to kill your best friend and ending up dead part. Even he could see that part would suck.

He just wished sometimes he was the person that the group would listen to even when Rick didn't agree, that sometimes it was his plan they listened to above everyone else's. Or at least when he had a plan that Rick, or the group as a whole, didn't agree with he had the balls to stand up and just go ahead and do it anyway. He knew if it had been Rick that decided Terminus had been a viable option to look for supplies they'd already have been back on their way. There is no doubt about that and it makes his cheeks flush with shame to know he backed down from the fight so quickly when the life on one of his best friends was at stake. He knows he's not a coward, he's proven that to himself time and time again over the past couple of years. He'd learnt that he was braver than he ever thought possible, that when it came down to situations of life and death he could act on impulse and instinct and keep those dear to him alive in the most dire of situations. So he doesn't understand why he didn't just tell Rick his plan was the best option they had and just walk out the door.

Why he doesn't just do it now Rick isn't here to stop him.

It's not like Glenn hasn't made decisions before. He knows he can do it. There was that time, back at the prison, when Rick was off chasing ghosts and Daryl was off playing unhappy families in the woods with Merle. When Glenn was so full of rage he was practically bursting at the seams. But that was when there was no one else, no one but a one-legged old man and an eleven-year-old, to stand up to that it almost doesn't count – especially seen as it ended with Axel dead and almost worse, almost Hershel and Rick and Carol too.

And hell, he's shown he can stand up for himself. Just the other day he stood up to Abraham when it came to looking for Maggie after the prison fell. But that was Maggie. When it boils down to it, he knows he would do anything for Maggie.

With his gaze fixed on the still form on top of the bed in the corner and his hand resting on top of Maggie's head Glenn thought back to the events of the day. On the same images that he hadn't been able to stop looping over and over. The belt. The knife. The moment his friend's eyes had locked with his own as he'd chosen Maggie to be set free. The feeling of relief the Maggie would be safe, of gratitude towards his friend.

He thought, with a wave sickness, of what could have happened that morning had Daryl not have been chosen out of their group. He wondered, with a creeping sense of cold over his skin, if they would be sat together right now if he hadn't.

Maybe it did all boil down to Maggie.

Yeah, he thought, today was as good a day as any to grow some balls.

"I think it's the right decision." Maggie sat up, startling Glenn from his reverie. For a second he wondered if he had spoken out loud but he was sure he hadn't. Her head came up from its place on his lap, instead she rested her shoulder alongside his own sagging ones.

"What? You agree with Rick too?" Glenn didn't turn his head to his wife, the question holding a world of hidden defeat that she didn't need to see his face to detect.

"No. Not Rick. You. Going back to Terminus." At Maggie's words Glenn turned his head, his eyebrows moving high onto his forehead, his lips pulled slightly up at their corners. "Glenn, I know you've made up your mind. You don't have to worry about how to tell me. You're right, we need to go back and check. From the little we saw when they were putting on the 'sanctuary for all' façade and the amount of people they had they must have had something. Even if most of the place went up in flames, it's worth checking."

"You're not going to try and talk me out of it? Tell me it's not worth the risk?" The defeat had gone from his voice now, the hope practically leapt forward despite the questions. Glenn knew his wife. Knew she wouldn't play with his emotions like that.

"It's Daryl's best chance of surviving this. Not worth the risk?" Maggie scoffed, the idea suddenly the funniest thing she had heard in a long time. "It's Daryl! I'm going to drag you there myself."

Glenn started to shift uncomfortably. He lips drew painfully taut, cheeks bunched up under his eyes like apples as he grimaced. Shit, he didn't know how to broach the subject with her. Maggie didn't catch the change in his expression before someone else joined their hushed conversation unexpectedly.

"I'm in." Michonne stood over them, having been listening in. Glenn was sure the woman had a sixth sense for bailing people out of uncomfortable situations and it wasn't the first time felt grateful to be on the receiving end of her uncanny knack.

"You sure?" Glenn all-but leapt on the woman's presence, he moved his shoulder away from his wife subtly, but enough that Maggie noticed, giving her husband a small look. "Rick was right. We don't know what waits for us there. Well, except walkers. And probably a massive fire. And most likely some of the cannibals that did this in the first place..."

"We'll handle it. You really think Daryl wouldn't already be back in there if it was one of us?" At first Michonne's answer was clipped, her words deliberate, but then she surprised them by seating herself beside the married couple and smiling. It was a genuine, warm smile, full of mischief and trouble and a flash of teeth. "He'd probably already be back riding in on the back of a unicorn with some impossibly heavy medical machine strapped to his back, the life-saving kind. A three course banquet dragging behind him; gold-plated cutlery to boot. Or some other kind of superhero shit he always seems to pull out of his chronically unwashed arse."

Glenn heard Maggie let out a feather-light chuckle beside him but couldn't find the air to do the same himself. He felt the truth of the words hit him in the gut, push the heavy sense of guilt up through his chest and settle onto his shoulders like flecks of heavy lead. She was right and God, he suddenly felt like an absolute arsehole. Daryl would've just grabbed his shit and headed off as soon as everyone else was safe. None of the talking. None of the negotiating the risks or weighing up options. He would have just been gone, dragging Rick with him out of obligation, pulling that superhero shit out of instinct. Except, Glenn knew, Daryl never even saw it as superhero shit. He never did. It was just what he did, just some crazy-arse Daryl Dixon shit.

"That makes three of us." Maggie's words broke Glenn out of his thoughts with another sinking jolt. "Will that be enough?"

"No, not three. Maggie, not you." Glenn stopped her before she could argue, a simple movement of a hand placed on her shoulder and brown eyes locked onto green. He knew he was playing dirty, knew that his face was just as expressive as anything he was about to say. He knew Maggie wouldn't be able to look him in the eye and hear what he had to say and still insist she came along. "A lot of what happened out there… he said your name Maggie. He looked into my eyes and he said your name. He took some of that torture so that you could go free. He did that because he knows what you mean to me. Because you're a part of his family. You know he would have taken more if they'd have asked him to. For you. For me. I don't want to take you back in there after he did that, y'know?"

Tears blossomed in Maggie's eyes, glistening in front of the brilliant green irises but not spilling over. She swallowed hard before she spoke, not trusting her voice and nodded quickly at her husband, filling his chest with a sense of relief he hadn't felt since he had found her in that tunnel three days ago. "I'll stay and help Bob and Carol. I'll make sure he holds on until you guys make it back."

"Let me go instead. In your place." Tara flopped down beside Michonne, elbows draped on her knees, her posture nonchalant. Like she hadn't just walked in on a very private, very emotional conversation; she didn't pretend not have been eavesdropping. "Look, I know I don't know the bloke, but I owe him now. And I still have some debts to pay."

Maggie noted the look that passed between the woman and her husband, knew that there was a story to tell between the two that she had yet to hear. Now was not the time. She trusted Glenn and she had realised quickly that Glenn trusted this woman. She nodded at Tara, thankful to the woman who seemed too willing to take up the fight this group she had only just met.

"Make it four." Sasha set her rifle on the floor, nodding upwards the group, obviously having been listening into the conversation from her station at the door. Glenn wondered just how loudly they had all been talking; he was suddenly glad he hadn't been trying to organise a secret coup under Rick's nose. That would have gone badly it would seem. "Sorry I didn't stand up and saying anything earlier but I'm not sitting here doing nothing and just watching Daryl die. I'm done watching. Did enough of it back in that place. Plus, Rick was right about the danger. It would be stupid to go back in there without the numbers."

"Fine. Good. Thank you" Glenn nodded at the three women, grateful knowing he had the back-up of the strong fighters. "All of you."

"Talking of Rick." The previous flippancy in Michonne's tone had disappeared. Now she was serious again, calculated and cunning. Her head bobbed as she spoke like a cat considering its prey. "He's not going to like this. I say we leave soon, head off before he makes it back, and put enough time between us so he can't catch us up. If we leave before we lose the light we can either find somewhere safe enough to camp outside or make it in before nightfall. Either way Rick can't stop us."

"I thought you were, like, Rick's right hand woman?" Tara chewed out from the side of her mouth casually.

"Doesn't mean I always agree with him." The words almost clucked off of Michonne's tongue, no spite in them but their intent obvious.

"Why not stick up for me before? Stand up when Rick was here? Help me convince him otherwise? We could have been stronger going in with Rick." Glenn attempted to keep any hint of accusation out of his voice, careful to remember the woman was his ally right now.

"Because I know what fights to pick with him, Glenn; the ones you have a chance of winning. Right now Rick's not in the right head space to making the calls but he sure as hell isn't going to back down. You know that. You've seen it before. If I'd have back you up before it would have made no difference and just caused more of a fight." She saw the man nod slightly at the words, knew he understood. "But, I also know the battles Rick really can't afford to lose. Losing Daryl… that is one he can't. After what happened today, I don't know what happens to Rick if Daryl doesn't make it; I want to make sure that doesn't happen, for all of our sakes. This plan, this is the best option we have; it's the only one. He can't see it because he can't think about making another wrong choice. He thinks he's got so many stacked against him now. We're taking this choice out of his hands this way. There is no extra blood on his hands if it goes south."

Michonne didn't need to see Glenn take Maggie's hand to know their minds had wandered to similar memories that she had been alluding to. Times they had all lived through together to know they didn't want to repeat. She hoped the younger man could understand that while Michonne cared about the hunter, she cared as much about their leader. To her saving Daryl was as much about saving Rick; each as crucial to the group's survival.

"What about Carl?" Glenn pulled his voice low, angling his body forward to bring their little group into a makeshift huddle. "After everything. After what happened earlier. Do you think it will be okay if we just leave him after that?"

"He's angry. Not dangerous." The tone the settled in Michonne's throat was instantly defensive. "There is a difference."

"Yeah." His eyes found Maggie's, registered the nod of agreement. "Yeah, I know, you're right. I just…he was so…I've never seen him like that."

"Do you blame him for being angry? After everything. The prison, out on the road…" Michonne looked over her shoulder to the chair. "He's a kid. Hell, I'm angry too. I just want to focus it at getting these supplies."

"If we're honest, Carl didn't say anything that we hadn't already thought. I know I had." Maggie's accent seemed to thicken, her head leaning in to their group further. She backed up slightly at the surprise on Glenn's face, her hands coming up in slight defence. "Hey, I'm sure as hell Rick's thought them too. I'd bet my life on it."

"Don't say that." Glenn barked, sounding wounded, chastising his wife instantly. "Don't. Not even joking. Don't bet your life. Not after today."

"Sorry." Maggie's eyes fell to her lap, her lips sucking on themselves gently guiltily for a moment. She laid her head down on Glenn's lap again, letting him place his hand on her hair as he had before, letting him feel her presence before she spoke softly. "I'll keep an eye on Carl too. Carol will be able to help if he gets upset again."

Silence settled on the group for a few minutes. Now that the plan was agreed Glenn was eager to move, but he allowed himself a few more moments with his wife.

"You do know, if…" Maggie caught herself, corrected her mistake, "when Daryl makes it and finds out you risked your life like this he'll probably try and shoot you for it."

"Yeah, I know." Glenn laughed nervously. He had genuinely considered this as one of the cons when weighing up whether going out to Terminus was a good idea or not. He wasn't really worried about Rick's reaction to disobeying him, it was the Daryl-shaped repercussions that scared him the most. "I plan on hiding any weapons from him for a while."

When the group left half an hour later Glenn cast one last glance at the ramshackle shelter they had settled into. He could see Maggie's form leaning against the open doorframe, her rifle leaning casually against her leg.

Even in the dim light he thought she looked beautiful. He smiled to himself as he turned and headed off into the woods after the others, knowing he had that to come back to. Knowing who he had to thank for that.

As the rest of the group slept and Carol kept watch outside the door through the early morning hours, Maggie dozed peacefully with her head on the side of the bed, the rest of her body curled uncomfortably beneath her in a praying position. She startled awake when the figure laid out before her jolted with a pained grunt, sitting upright quickly to find Daryl's head lolling slightly before it came to a stop in front of her own and him giving her a dip of his head in recognition.

His eyes scanned behind her shoulder. Even being so wounded, so ailed, Daryl's protector instinct kicked in and his need to account for his people took hold. Maggie caught the flash of frustration, the ground of his teeth against themselves and the way the hand closest to hers weakly balled into the dirty sheet, his fingernails gripped into material feebly, as the numbers came up way short.

She smiled inwardly as even through the pain-addled fog he worked out who to blame.

"Fuck it, Glenn. Imma shove an arrow where the sun don' reach." Daryl's tongue snaked out briefly beyond lips so dry they had cracked and started to bleed and heal numerous times throughout the day, but his mouth was so absent of liquid barely any moisture was left behind. "He shoulda' never left you on a counta' me."

He made a motion to bring his free hand up, Maggie thought maybe to bring it to his own face or maybe, just maybe, even to hers, but it barely made it off the bed. Instead it hovered just inches from the surface for a few seconds before it hit the bed again. It barely made a sound. Maggie bent quickly and lifted a quarter-full water bottle to the man's parched lips, muttering softly to encourage him to take a small sip, grateful when he didn't choke on the pitiful amount of liquid she could offer.

Maggie placed the bottle back on floor and carefully stroked the greasy, sweat-damped hair that plastered the hunter's forehead. She noticed his eyes were already beginning to droop and she took a chance to speak softly into his ear, hushed tones like the bedtime stories she knew he never got as a child, to tell him one story she had been wanting to for a long time. A story he had been a part of.

"You know, once he calmed down, once it was all settled down a little, Glenn was the one who realised..." For a moment his eyes stopped drooping, staring up at her confused. "He understood the real reason why you took off into the woods with your brother.

"I was so cross with you Daryl Dixon," Maggie didn't hold back, didn't let the softness of her tone betray the truth behind the words. She didn't let the narrowing of his eyes make her falter. "For choosing him over us. I understood that he was your brother, he was your blood. I would do anything for Beth. And no matter what you said about how tough he was one man alone in this world isn't going to last too long out there. But after everything we had been through, all of us, together, we were more than blood. God, I was so cross at you. But Glenn… he was cross too. That doesn't even cover it really. He was heartbroken at first, even if he wouldn't admit it. He felt so… betrayed. You turning your back on us then hurt him more than he'd have ever care to tell."

Maggie felt the flinch under her fingertips, felt Daryl's physical reaction to Glenn's past pain on his account but carried on regardless, not wanting to hurt the man further but determined to get her point across, finally desperate for him to hear what she had to say. She continued to run one set of fingers through his hair, letting the other hand move to stroke patterns up and down his uninjured shoulder. She stared into orbs of blue that couldn't hide the pain no matter how hard they tried and made an effort not to think about how much he must have been hurting.

"Then he had time to think. Got time to cool off. The dust settled after The Governor attacked and Rick came back around to himself so Glenn didn't have to take on that responsibility. Merle…Merle…you lost him… and we got to build the prison into what it was for a while. Everything seemed to go back to normal a bit and Glenn got to go back to what makes Glenn, well, Glenn. He got to think about it all. He told me one night that he wasn't cross with you anymore." The only obvious sign of reaction Daryl gave to Maggie's words as she kept talking was how he steadily began chewing harder on his ruined bottom lip, working on it harder until there was none of it left to see, the whole of it being gnawed on by nervous teeth. He made no attempt to speak up so she continued. "He told me what you had done. That is had only been when Glenn had brought up everyone else back at our home that you'd stopped fighting to bring your brother back there. All of a sudden you made your choice, just like that. He figured out you stopped pushing to bring Merle back to the prison and you walked off into the woods with him, left us there on that road, not because you chose Merle over us but because you chose us over you. Right there in the middle of the road you thought having Merle in the prison would tear us apart, would put us all in more danger and you made a choice. You kept Merle away from us, because we were your family too. Me. My dad. Glenn. Beth. Carol. Carl. Judith. Rick. All of us. We couldn't see that because all we could see was you walking away… Always looking after us, hey Mr Dixon?"

She was surprised to see that he kept unrelenting eye contact with her throughout, his pain-hazed eyes blinked up at her slowly and it made her smile to see that despite the heart-warming moment she was hoping they were sharing she could still she they held a their tell-tale glare in them. The glare was without its usual Daryl bite however, and there was a softness at the edges, like he wasn't happy about this heart-to-heart without an escape route but that he appreciated it all the same. That he was grateful she understood that he hadn't just left them behind that day without reason.

Maggie always knew the man's soft centre wasn't only reserved for Judith, that there was a place for all of them in there. It was confirmed with the words that followed; muffled, slurred words, even harder to understand than his usual drawl. Words said as his eyes slipped shut again.

"…always was one smart pizza boy." Maggie was sure she saw the brief upturn of a smile play on his lips as Daryl spoke. Only for a second. "Took his sweet time ta work it out though..."

"Now you let us look after you." Maggie bent low, the position caused her to embrace the hunter gently, and taking great care not to on put pressure onto any of his many wounds. She pressed a soft kiss to Daryl's ear as she whispered, her tone hushed and comforting, knowing it would be the last thing he heard before he drifted back into the darkness. She allowed herself a brief thought of another similar situation where she gave her father permission to stop fighting. She wouldn't be giving this man the same allowance tonight. "Just don't think we'll be letting you get away so easily this time."

The sun had only risen for barely an hour when Abraham came into view at the top of the driveway a full thirty seconds before Rick, Rosita snorting to herself that the early morning rays reflecting of the red of the taller man's hair was what first alerted her to their advancement from her position as guard at the door. She watched lazily, her rifle aimed low, as Abe strode confidently up the driveway. Rick lagged behind a good four hundred metres, his feet barely carrying him forward.

"Happy camping?" Rosita smirked as Abe got within hearing distance, enjoying the look of irritation on Abe's face as he stomped up the steps.

"A few more huts like this a ways up the road. Worse condition. Smelt worse than my Aunt Doreen's piss-soaked panties." Abe let his tongue work it was over his fuzzy teeth then spat onto the porch, trying to rid his mouth of the stench of their overnight inhabitancy. "Thought it best for the troops to keep the not-so-glorious leader away from his nutso son for the night."

"Yeah." Rosita looked behind to see the rucksack slung on the man's shoulder looking suspiciously empty. "Any luck?"

"About six dead bastards and not so much as a band aid." Abe ran his hand over his moustache. "Talking about dead bastards, how's the redneck doing?"

"Abe." Rosita barely barked the syllable out through gritted teeth. "Play nice. I think there are about to be fireworks."

Abe considered the woman, his eyebrows knotting together with interest, but decided against asking any further questions as Rick finally approached. Hell, he was always the kind of guy that prefer to wait and watch a taped football game rather than hearing the results on the radio. He could wait a couple more minutes to see what more drama this group had managed to draw themselves into in less than six goddamn hours.

"Anything happen while we were gone? Is Daryl okay?" Rick asked as soon as his foot hit the first step. He tried to ignore the noticeable quiver in his voice, the expectation of bad news obvious in such a simple questions. His inability to have a little bit of faith so evident.

"I think it best you just speak to your people inside."

Rosita moved to open the door and Rick barrelled through it, relieved the moment he saw Bob and Carol next the bed and saw that Daryl was still on it, the two figures moving around the hunter. He was scared how quickly his mind had gone to the place that had expected to see the bed empty, to see that he had gotten back too late. He had been so worried about Daryl that he hadn't noticed at first Maggie coming to stand in front of him.

He hadn't noticed at first the rest of the group had slowly backed to the edges of the room, how they had eyed him cautiously, waiting to see him react.

He hadn't noticed at first that there were faces missing from the crowd.

He noticed now.

"Maggie?" Rick's question shook with contained anger, one that was kept at bay by exhaustion and a hope that the answer he was about to receive wasn't what he feared. "Where is Glenn? Michonne?"

"He and Michonne decided that going back to Terminus to get look for supplies was Daryl's best chance. Sasha and Tara went with them." Maggie kept her words even, to the point, giving Rick no chance to cut her off. She went in for the kill, knowing her next few sentences would be aiming low to any already hurting man but was intent on making them count. "They knew the risks. They knew you didn't agree. It was their choice but they thought Daryl's life was worth it. Nobody here tried to stop them."

The heels of Rick's hands went straight to his eyes and dug in as he pitched forward at the hips and let out a hiss in frustration. Maggie laid her hand on his back gently, feeling equally satisfied and guilty. He rocked back onto his heels for a moment, as if steeling himself against a wave of warring emotions and then stood quickly, turning to making a move to walk back toward the door he had just entered. He needed to leave the room. Needed to leave these people. Needed to unleash some anger where eyes couldn't judge.

"Rick." It wasn't Maggie's voice that stopped his movement, but the words. "That's not our only problem."

Rick looked back at Maggie, pleading with nothing but the desperation in a glance to not pile anything else onto his shoulders. She reached out, both her hands finding his and she held on hard, squeezed until their fingers mixed together in a painful mash of flesh. She wanted to give him some kind of strength, realised suddenly that he didn't have that person he would usually rely on to support him through something like this. That she didn't either. She felt him squeeze back, felt the tremble running through, not sure if it was him or her.

"He's gotten worse." Her hands tightened and she felt his whole body tense as his eyes went straight to the bed behind her.

"Worse? How?" Rick had been so relieved when he had seen the hunter on the bed earlier, that the man hadn't slipped away during the night he and Abraham had been out looking for something – anything – to help make him better that he hadn't been taking any real notice of what Carol or Bob had been doing to him. Now he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"Bob says he's definitely gone into some kind of shock from the blood loss. If he doesn't get supplies soon it'll be too late." Maggie's eyes glistened. It was like she had cried enough that tears were forever captured there, no longer needing to fall, content to just sit and show the world her sadness. "But it's his shoulder. Bob was right. The infection has already set in. It already looks like a nasty one. Bob thinks…."

Rick didn't care what else Maggie had to say and abandoned her side, forcibly ripping his hands from hers. No more words would make a difference. He was fed up of words. He was fed up of people just talking. He walked over to the bed, not casting a glance to any of his other people – not even his own children – not bothering with niceties with either Bob or Carol, simply moving past them and shouldering between them so he could lean down and lay his own hand on Daryl's razor sharp cheekbone. He was no medical man but even he couldn't ignore the heat he could feel, or the clamminess of the man's skin; the indications of a serious fever starting all too evident.

Rick cast his eyes down to see that the shoulder wound was currently exposed and he pulled his lips down in a grimace. Bob's makeshift bandage had been pulled aside and was spotted with red and yellow and Carol was currently hard at work pulling out the material that had packed the wound, each piece coming out covered in a thick ooze of pus. Every once in a while she used the little boiled water they had to flush the wound before packing it again, Daryl only murmuring slightly throughout despite the agony the procedure must have caused him, never coming around fully. Rick stood above him throughout, his hand settled on his cheek. There was no comfort in the gesture, not really, not for Daryl.

It made Rick certain Daryl was still there though.

Rick watched silently as Bob tore strips of a spare t-shirt and tied both of Daryl's hands to the bed, looping it between the base of his trigger finger and thumb and the heel of his hand to avoid going anywhere near the bandage wrists. He could see Bob was desperately trying not to catch his own gaze as he worked, ducking his head out of his sightline any time he came dangerously close to doing so. But when the work was done, when Daryl was secured to the wooden frame, when the tired, methodical hands finished their work and tired brown eyes met steely blue Rick's world felt like it had bottomed out. Rick knew what tying a dying man to a bed meant. It wasn't the first time.

There was nothing to do but wait and hope.

Rick sent a silent prayer out to Glenn to hurry the hell up.

He wanted someone to scream at him for having not made the choice to go back himself.

He wanted to just scream until his throat was raw and ragged and whatever that ball that sitting in his chest was made of was gone. Expelled out of him. Exorcised.

But he couldn't do that. Not right now. Right now he was too exhausted and right now he had to be here for Daryl. He'd stay right there, right next to him and like a tap was opened up and whatever was left inside him was just let out Rick sat down where he was on the floor next to the bed, the exhaustion and frustration and damn-near hell of the last few days catching up with him. His hand slipped from Daryl's face and he let his own bearded face fall into his own cupped hands.

No one dared speak to him for the longest time.

Not that Rick would have noticed.

Don't hate me. DON'T! There is still hope while Glenn and co are still out there. Come on, I'm sure I wouldn't do anything to those guys. I'm sure I wouldn't make things any worse for Daryl (ha, is that even possible). I wouldn't do that to you guys. I'm not like that, you know me. I'm all sunshine and flowers and happy endings.

Right?

Plus, I totally gave you guys some comfort in the chapter. You have to be happy.

….

All I'm saying is get back quick, Glenn. And bring back a shitload of supplies, dude.

(I love writing for Glenn. I need to do more Glenn)