A/N: I am SO beyond sorry for the long wait! I have had the WORST writer's block (I know, I know, oldest excuse in the book). I'm hoping to update all of my stories today. Since it's been so long this is a nice, long chapter (over 2,000 words, which is the longest chapter this story has had yet). I hope you enjoy and I am so grateful for all of you who have been reading and reviewing and are still sticking with me! If I didn't PM you back to thank you for your review please let me know…I like to talk to everyone but sometimes I miss a person.

This was not run by my BETA so all mistakes are my own.

Disclaimer: I do not own. All rights go to Robert Kirkman, Frank Darabont, and all others involved. Obviously I'm NOT involved.

Chapter Four

Daryl didn't know how long he walked. It could have been minutes, hours, seconds-everything seemed to be blurring together. His limbs felt heavy and every other step he was tripping over his feet, the ground below him feeling more like Jell-O than dirt and grass. Everything hurt, Daryl realized when he wiped sweat from his brow, even his damn fingernails seemed tender. The sun was unbearably hot and his stomach churned uncomfortably even though Daryl was pretty sure there was nothing left in there to throw up and he was forced to breathe through his nose to keep from being sick. Blearily Daryl kept walking forward, aimlessly trying to get anywhere but the camp and not particularly caring where he wound up. One second Daryl was looking at the tree line and a blink later he was so far into the woods he didn't know where he was.

A growl only feet away startled Daryl enough to send him stumbling to the ground, pain flaring throughout his whole body. Frantically he shuffled backwards blindly reaching for the buck knife on his belt, fingers gripping the handle in a clumsy hold, his appendages working like a rusty hinge. A male walker with long hair and a beer gut was staggering closer at an alarming speed and Daryl reacted out of panic, kicking out and knocking the geek off its feet. Unfortunately for Daryl the body landed directly on top of his own, its teeth snapping at his bare neck like a vampire from one of those cheesy movies. The redneck would never admit it but he let out a fearful shout, lashing out any way he could in an attempt to throw the heavy body off of him but his stomach was tight and his side was burning with white-hot pain and Daryl only panicked more when his vision began to grey out.

Everything began to dim around him and Daryl gasped for air, flailing about and crying out for help. It sounded like he was in a wind tunnel, ears ringing almost painfully and even though the walker was right near him it sounded like it was far away. Something was moving off to Daryl's right and he was sure his death was imminent, a hoard probably drawing near to tear his body limb from limb but he wasn't going out without a fight no matter how much his body was betraying him with its weakness. Mind over matter, Merle had always told him. Snarling twice as loud as the walker above him Daryl gathered every bit of strength he had to buck up and throw the geek off, bringing the buck knife down in a smooth arc to pierce through the thing's rotting skull. All movement ceased and Daryl couldn't help the satisfied, smug smirk that graced his lips.

The world went black when something heavy fell on him from behind.

"Oh my god," Someone was repeating over and over again. "Please don't be dead."

"Who's dead?" Daryl asked groggily, opening his eyes a crack.

"Daryl!" Andrea cried. Her face was covered in sweat and mud.

"What're you doing here?" Daryl looked around as much as he could, pain spiking through his head every time he turned his neck. He half expected to see Merle lurking around somewhere like when he had fallen down the ravine.

"Looking for you and the others." Andrea ran her hands over his body and he couldn't hide the wince when she brushed over a tender spot. "What the hell happened to you?"

"Yer dead." Daryl said blinking up at the blond. Nothing was making sense. Andrea began lifting up shit shirt but Daryl shoved her away so hard she fell to her ass, letting out a loud oof when she hit the ground. "Don' fuckin' touch me, girlie."

"You need help!" Andrea cried. She scrambled back over to his side, peering at him cautiously.

"Well you ain't real so you can't do shit. Just like Merle." Daryl licked his lips, mouth still terribly dry. What he would give for a sip of water.

"I have no idea what you're going on about, Dixon, but I need to get you to the others. Where are they?" Andrea looked around as if she would see them appear out of thin air.

Daryl looked the other way. "Don' know, 'm lost."

"Lost?" Andrea asked. "The great Daryl Dixon got lost? Something is definitely wrong with you. Come on, get up." Andrea placed her hands under Daryl's shoulders and attempted to push him into a sitting position. Instead the man shouted something that sounded an awful lot like an insult and rolled over to his side and out of her reach.

"No one cares if I live or not, anyways. Ain't nothing but redneck trash 'n you know it." Daryl was speaking more to himself than Andrea, Merle's words playing on repeat in his mind. Maybe he was dead and Andrea was here to torture him.

"Are you bit?" Andrea sounded grave, worried. The concern in her voice confused Daryl.

"Ain't bit." Daryl closed his eyes against the bright sun and tried to rest, body ready to give.

"Daryl!" Andrea yelled after a long moment of silence, tapping his shoulder. "I can't help you if you don't wake up."

"Quit yet yellin', Barbie, I ain't sleepin'." Everything around him was dull, even the pain, and his toes were starting to tingle.

"What happened to you?" Andrea asked again. She was close enough for Daryl to feel the heat radiating from her body.

"Nothin'."

"Nothing? Oh ok. You look like shit and even I can tell you need help. Which way did you come from?" Daryl pointed in the general direction he thought was correct, closing his eyes.

When he opened them again he was on his feet, unsteadily leaning against Andrea and rambling on about something.

When had they started walking?

"I wish you knew how much we needed you," Andrea said in response to something, Daryl couldn't remember what.

"You don' need me." Daryl shook his head which only made him dizzier. "Rick don' need me."

"Rick?" Andrea looked sharply at him. "Who cares if Rick needs you?"

Pause.

"What're you goin' on 'bout?" Daryl asked. He was pretty sure his stitches had popped again.

"You were talking about Rick." Andrea shifted so Daryl was leaning more heavily on her, her body quivering with the effort of holding him up. Daryl remained silent. "We've been walking for twenty minutes, where are we?"

Twenty minutes? Daryl could only remember five of those.

"Told you, I got lost." Daryl tried to move away from Andrea, hated the way their bodies touched and the way her arm felt around his waist. It felt too warm and comfortable; safe.

"Shit!" Andrea cried when Daryl's knees buckled under him and he fell. She held him even closer and hefted him up, almost carrying him at that point. If Daryl hadn't been in so much pain he would have been impressed.

"Andrea?" Daryl looked at the woman, surprise written all over his face. "What…"

"Help!" Andrea called, moving faster. There was a clearing ahead and she burst through it. "Rick!"

The sheriff was already running in their direction, gun in one hand and at the ready. His blue eyes scanned the area for danger as the others followed, Glenn close on his heels. Andrea stopped moving, holding Daryl up the best she could; the man was all muscle despite their limited diet and was heavier than he looked. Daryl saw the others coming and immediately tried to straighten himself, yanking out of Andrea's grasp. Breathing heavily and clenching his teeth against the onslaught of pain he stood as tall as he could, head held high, ignoring the way Andrea was reaching for him. He took a step forward, hand raised to stop them and mouth open to fire off an insult to keep them at bay but he crumpled, body no longer able to support his own weight. When Daryl's head hit the ground he was fairly certain someone yelled his name but he couldn't be certain, the world going black with a loud pop.

"Daryl!" Rick yelled frantically, rushing forward. Andrea was already on her knees attempting to wake the fallen man. She looked desperately up at Rick, her hands covered in fresh blood and that's when he saw that Daryl's jacket was covered in the thick liquid.

"What happened?" Rick asked as he holstered his gun and knelt beside the blond woman.

"You're alive?" T-Dog exclaimed, looking guilty. "I saw you go down."

"A walker fell on top of me but obviously I'm fine." Andrea turned her attention back to Rick. "I was in the woods and a walker was on his back. I thought he was infected!" Her hands were shaking. "When he woke up he started talking about me not being real and something about Merle. He was really out of it."

Rick nodded, acknowledging her while pulling Daryl's jacket up and away from his body. Daryl's skin under all the blood was an angry looking red, his veins standing out and the old arrow wound puffy and swollen. He cursed under his breath and wondered how long the other man had been hurting. Rick swiped the back of his hand over his brow and without thinking lifted Daryl bridal style, holding the man close to his body. Daryl was shivering even though he was unconscious and his breathing was labored enough to make Rick extremely concerned. When he began walking back towards their makeshift camp the others followed.

"Glenn?" Rick turned to look at the Asian man. "I need you to run ahead and tell Hershel. This is bad and we need his help." Glenn nodded and ran off without a response.

"Is he going to be ok?" Andrea was nearing hysterics.

"I'm not sure." Rick responded honestly, hoisting Daryl's body into a more comfortable position. "Are you ok?" He asked her, taking in her disheveled appearance and ghostly white skin.

"I'm fine." She dismissed him quickly, eyes never leaving Daryl. "Don't worry about me, worry about him."

"Dad!" Carl cried when Rick neared. "Is that Daryl?"

"Oh my god!" Carol gasped, hand covering her mouth in shock.

Rick ignored them and laid Daryl out on the blanket Carl had slept on last night, brushing the man's hair off his sweat-soaked forehead. Despite Daryl's shivering the man's skin was feverish to the touch. Hershel was there in an instant, removing Daryl's vest and jacket. He didn't speak while he assessed the damage, fingers prodding here and there, brows furrowing. Maggie handed him a half empty bottle of water without having to be asked for it and when Hershel dumped it on Daryl's stomach to clear the grime he sighed discouragingly, shaking his head. With the blood and dirt gone Rick could see the old injury was worse than he had initially expected.

"He needs antibiotics," Hershel said dejectedly. "And a good, thorough cleaning."

"How bad is it?" Rick asked even though he was afraid to hear the answer.

"If he doesn't get antibiotics in his system soon he's not going to make it."

Rick stood, determination etched on his face. He knew what he had to do.

"Rick…" Lori was looking defeated.

"I need to, Lori. You know as well as I do that we can't lose Daryl."

"I'm coming with you." Glenn stood and ignored the way Maggie looked at him.

"And where exactly do you two think you're going?" Lori asked, throwing her hands up in defeat.

"We need to go to town. You heard Hershel, if we don't find antibiotics then Daryl is as good as dead."

"The pharmacy is wiped clean." Maggie pointed out.

Rick thought for a moment, trying to remember the map he had looked over only days ago.

"There's another town not too far away." Rick looked at Glenn. "Think you're up for it?"

Glenn nodded.

"Then we head out in ten."

TBC…

A/N: Please review and let me know what you think. Helpful criticism and suggestions are always welcome! More to come soon…don't worry, it won't be as long of a wait as last time.