Daryl lay winded in the shallows of the creek, the tepid water slowly soaking into his clothes, causing an involuntary shiver. He'd gotten himself into a hell of a mess, looking for Sophia. His horse had jumped when a walker snuck up on them, and was currently running back to the farm, or so Daryl suspected. He'd fallen on an arrow from his crossbow, after he lost his grip on the deadly device, and now he and the weapon were lying at the bottom of a steep incline, which was more like a small cliff. To top it off? He could hear walkers coming. Half a dozen, it sounded like. Luck wasn't shining on the archer today.

He wanted to get up and fight, but his body was in agony. It would wear off, but he was so winded, that he could barely lift his head to see the approaching walkers.

Just as no less than six walkers began descending on him, and Daryl began to think this was how he was going down, one walker fell, after a bullet tore through the centre of its skull. The other corpses quickly followed, falling on the ground next to him like dominoes, splashing into the creek without a single sound from the gun that had downed them. Frowning, Daryl craned his neck, even though the simple motion made him grimace, and saw someone approaching. As they got within a few feet, he could see it was a young woman.

She almost looked worse than he did- whilst she was dressed in dusty biker leathers, struggling with a hikers backpack, what he could see of her skin was beaten and bruised, the right side of her face soaked in blood, covering an impressive black eye. Yet she still stopped to help him.

With a grimace, the woman knelt down beside him.

"Fine mess you've gotten yourself into." She smiled slightly. "Wounded by your own weapon. That fucking sucks."

"How'd-" Daryl started, vision blurring.

"I don't see any other weapons on you. Or any supplies. So...I'm guessing you're the owner of that fine crossbow there." She helped him into a sitting position.

"Why're you helping me?" Daryl asked.

"There's a lot of people I haven't been able to save. But I know I can save you. The world may have gone to shit, but I like to think I'm still a good person."

"You alone?" Daryl asked, reluctant to trust her- what if his rescuer had an alternate motive?

"Why the sudden interest?"

"You saved my sorry ass. Figured I should know who you are."

"Fair enough."

The woman took off her pack, or at least attempted to, before her one good eye clamped shut, as she seemed to bite back a noise of pain. After a moment, she managed to remove the pack. Rummaging around, she constantly glanced around, to check no walkers were approaching.

"To answer your question- yes. I'm alone. Have been since the start."

"Since the start?"

"Unless you count the assholes who attacked me along the way. I've just got bad luck."

"Looks like it. Sorry."

"You should see the other guys."

Finding himself smiling despite the pain, Daryl watched as the woman produced a dented tin, with a fading first aid label on it.

"You a doctor?"

"I was a surgeon. First month on the job- and the world ends. Like I said, I'm pretty unlucky."

The woman pulled off her leather gloves, exposing bruised fists and split knuckles, before pulling on disposable plastic ones. Tentatively, she used a knife to cut away Daryls shirt, enough to get to the wound.

"Got any painkillers?" Daryl asked.

"I've got a bottle of bourbon."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

Looking as if she was holding back laughter, at what Daryl suspected was his hopeful expression, the woman produced said bourbon bottle from the pack, wrapped in bubble wrap. The amber liquid glistened in the sunlight. She handed it to him without a thought.

"I keep a bottle or two around when I can. Have some- I'm not a huge bourbon fan. Better than nothing, though."

Just before he took a gulp, Daryl paused. Why the hell was he being so trusting? For all he knew, this chick could be part of a larger group, and only saved his ass so she'd get taken to his camp.

"I know that look. You're wondering if I have some ulterior motive. I'm afraid you'll just have to trust me for now. Without me, you wouldn't be alive to think about whatever motives you believe I have."

Grimacing at her accurate analysis, Daryl took a long gulp of the bourbon, before reluctantly putting the bottle down. As the alcohol burned its way down his throat, Daryl watched as she washed away the blood with a bottle of water, and torn bandage, with a gentleness that seemed alien in such a shitty world.

"The arrow didn't hit any organs, or nick them. You're lucky. Means I can pull it out and sew you up without your guts spilling out."

"Good to know."

"Might wanna take another sip of that bourbon. This is going to hurt-"

"Like a bitch. I know."

Chuckling, the woman snapped off the pointed end of the arrow, which stuck out of Daryls front.

"Turn to your good side. If you can."

Once she could see the arrow bolt better, she seized the bolt tightly, before yanking it out with ease. The painful movement brought a string of impressive expletives out of Daryls mouth, eliciting a barely muffled laugh from the woman.

Moving quickly, she discarded the bloody bolt, before reaching for a needle and stitching thread. Quietly, brow furrowed in concentration, she threaded the needle, before swiftly beginning to sew up the wound. Despite her own injuries, her hands were unshaking, confidently stitching up the jagged wound. Once the entry wound was stitched up, she heaved a sigh of relief.

"Still with me, stranger?" She asked Daryl.

"Yeah."

"Almost there. See any walkers?"

"We're clear. It'll be dark soon, though. Then it'll be hard to tell."

"Shit."

Moving faster, the woman quietly sewed up the exit wound, before leaning back. The stitches were small, almost unnoticeable, with the neatness one would expect of a surgeon.

"Just gotta wrap some bandages round you, then you can get up." She explained.

"Thanks."

"It's ok-"

"Could've left me here to die. Had no reason to help."

"I said- I haven't been able to save many people- but I knew I could help you. This was just as much to help you as it was to help me."

"Still, thanks."

"Don't mention it."

Pulling out a roll of gauze, the woman tensed up when they both heard a series of splashes, followed by a series of all too familiar groans. By the sound of it, the groans weren't coming from a singular walker either.

"Shit." The woman rummaged in her hiking pack, before producing a steel baseball bat, stained with blood. "Wait here."

"Can't go anywhere else."

"Smartass."

Rising to her feet, albeit with difficulty, the woman gripped the handle of the bat with both hands, before turning to face the direction the groans were coming from. Before long, three walkers, each more decrepit and rotten than the last, shambled into view. Running at the walkers, the woman swung out hard, and caught the freshest walker in the side of the head, with enough force to cause the head to cave in. Before the walker had even hit the ground, she swung to take out the next walker, sidestepping as the two rotten men clumsily swung at her.

Loading up the crossbow with the few bolts he had left, Daryl swiftly took aim, and downed the third walker, just as the woman was turning round to take it out. Noticing the arrow bolt in the corpse's skull, she shook her head, before bending down to retrieve the bolt. Satisfied with their handiwork, she returned to Daryl's side, face paler than it had been a few moments ago.

"You alright?" Daryl asked.

"Might've busted a couple stitches. Nothing major." The woman shrugged, before tucking her silenced gun back into her belt.

"Those assholes that got you-"

"Yes. They got a few good hits in. But I'm alive, and they're not."

"Should check-"

"I'm fine."

After she held up Daryl's ruined shirt, and began wrapping fresh bandages round him, it occured to the archer that he didn't even know her name.

"You got a name?" Daryl spoke up.

"Jasper. Jasper Carter. Don't suppose you have a name too?"

"Daryl."

"Daryl..."

"Dixon."

"Well. Glad to have a name to put with your face."

"Same here."

"Hold the gauze down, for a sec."

Doing as Jasper instructed, Daryl held down the neatly wrapped bandages, as she tied the end off, cutting it free from the wheel of gauze. Nodding to herself, she began packing up the medical kit.

"So...why're you out here?" Jasper asked.

"Little girl. Sophia. Got seperated from my group." Daryl's eyes widened as his reason for being out there returned to him.

"Damn. How long ago?"

"Been a week."

"That's not good."

"I know. Still gotta keep lookin'."

"No, I get it. But you can't search anymore today. Not in your condition."

Daryl cursed. Jasper was right, but he had a gut feeling that he was so incredibly close to finding Sophia. A moment passed before Jasper spoke up again.

"You got somewhere to hole up for the night?" Jasper asked, slotting the bat back into the hiking pack, before zipping it up as far as it would go.

Pausing for a moment, to consider whether or not he should tell her about Hershel's farm, Daryl watched as she waited patiently for an answer.

Fuck it.

Even if she only saved him to get to the camp...they outnumbered her. But something told Daryl it wouldn't come to that.

"There's a farm. Seven miles back. Set up there." Daryl answered.

"A farm? You're fucking with me. Most farms have been infested."

"This one aint."

"Huh."

"Would take us an hour and...fourty minutes. Give or take. Without the horse. If it hadn't run off...wouldn't take half as long."

"Fuck. It'll be dark in thirty." Jasper cursed. "We better get moving. I don't think either of us are up to climbing back up the creek. Think you can find another way back?"

"Got no choice."

After Daryl helped Jasper put the hiking pack back on, securing the straps, she, in turn, helped him get to his feet. The movement caused black spots to dance in Daryl's vision- he'd lost more blood than he thought.

"Don't pass out on me. I'd like to have a roof over my head tonight."

"Still with you. Let's go."

"Just tell me where to go." Jasper handed Daryl a flashlight. "Lean on me if you need to."

After an hour, despite walking nearly as slow as the undead themselves, Daryl could tell that they were both getting slower. Their injuries had begun to get the better of them. Exhausted, they'd begun leaning on each other as they walked, an arm round their shoulders to support one another. Both of them were beaten to hell, and they were still a ways out from the farm. They'd not encountered any other rotting freaks, but with the stench of blood on them, it was only a matter of time before they were found. They were walking zombie bait.

"How much longer?" Jasper wheezed.

"Fourty minutes. Longer if we keep walking so damn slow."

"Can't help it."

"I know. Wish the horse-"

Daryl was interupted, when Jasper shushed him. Immediately tensing, reaching for his crossbow, he watched as she took out her gun. In the near distance, he could hear branches snapping on the ground. Which could mean trouble. Fuck.

Just as Jasper was aiming a gun in the direction of the noise, someone spoke up.

"Mr...Mr Dixon?" The shaky voice sounded scared.

"Sophia?!" Daryl called back.

Trembling, covered in mud, Sophia emerged from the shadows, looking equal parts relieved and terrified.

"Holy shit. This the kid you were looking for?" Jasper lowered her gun.

Crying, Sophia ran towards the two, immediately wrapping her arms around Daryl, hugging him as tight as her little arms could handle. The pressure on Daryl's wound nearly drew a curse from his mouth, bug the archer kept that to himself, choosing to smile instead. Jasper took his crossbow from him, so that he could hug Sophia back. The archer held the scared girl tightly.

"You alright?" Daryl asked. "Hurt?"

"I scraped my knee...but I'm not sick, or bitten." Sophia stuttered. "Where's my mom?"

"She's not far." Daryl reassured her, as Sophia finally ended the hug. "She's okay."

"Everyone?" Sophia took Daryl's left hand in her own trembling hands.

"Everyone's fine." Daryl could barely believe his eyes.

"Is she a friend?" Sophia looked towards Jasper.

"Could say that." Daryl admitted.

"I hate to break up this reunion, Sophia, but we need to get to Daryl's camp." Jasper smiled sadly. "Once we're there, you'll be safe. You can hug him all you want then."

"Okay..." Sophia sniffed mournfully.

"Stay close." Daryl took his crossbow back from Jasper, and holding Sophia's hand in his free hand.

After a further fourty minutes, or as close to fourty minutes as Daryl could estimate, they got clear of the forest, to be greeted by the sight of Hershel's farm, the large house clearly visible. Past the fields of golden corn, the windows emanated a warm, welcoming light. The house was a beacon of hope in the wide, open fields. Just as Daryl stepped forward, Sophia at his side, he heard Jasper curse. Before he could react, Jasper collapsed to her knees, wheezing pathetically. Before Daryl could voice his concerns, Jasper struggled back up, smiling tiredly at Daryl, before pressing forward. Frowning, Daryl kept quiet- they were almost safe, after all. The beaten, tired group limped onward, somehow finding the energy to pick up the pace when the smell of a homecooked meal reached them. Daryl noticed that Glenn and Rick were on the porch, loading their guns, presumably about to leave to find him.

"Holy shit." Glenn noticed the beaten trio, and immediately rushed over, before stopping to aim his gun at Jasper. "Rick, get Carol!"

"You can trust her. She's the only reason I'm not dead in the creek." Daryl spoke up.

Reluctantly, Glenn holstered his gun. If Daryl trusted someone, they'd have to be halfway decent. Glenn sighed, before opening his arms. Sophia flung herself at him, sobbing as she hugged him. With Sophia safe in Glenn's arms, Daryl turned to face Jasper. The woman was white as a sheet, and swaying on the spot.

"Shit." Daryl moved to take the hiking pack off of her.

The moment the pack hit the ground, Jasper finally collapsed, eyes snapping shut as her legs gave out. Scrambling, Daryl guided her to the ground. He frowned when he felt something damp on her right side, and looked down...only to see red liquid seeping through his fingers.

"Sophia!" Carol burst out of the house, closely followed by the others.

"Who the hell is that?" Shane knelt by Daryl, as Carol pulled Sophia up, and into her arms. "She's been beaten up pretty bad. You too."

"Long story. I trust her. Hershel-." Daryl called for the older man.

"How's Sophia?" Hershel asked, as he crouched down, and began examining Jasper.

"Gashed her knee. Tired. Okay otherwise." Daryl summarized.

"Can't believe you found her." Rick wandered over.

"Wouldn't have without Jasper." Daryl admitted. "She's not lookin' good."

"Bring her inside, we'll see to all of you." Hershel smiled warmly.