AUTHOR'S NOTE: I can officially say (for this site at least) I am the FIRST writer to do this pairing. The original idea is from my beta, however, foxwolfmoon who is a huge fan of both series. Please leave me a review telling me what you think.

P.S. Yes, you can actually burn Doritos chips. Use this knowledge wisely and only in an emergency if you're stuck out in the Arctic freezing to death.

Chapter 1

The scene at the bridge had been... Chaos... There were infected everywhere. Bombs going off in every direction. He could hear the others screaming for him over the ringing in his ears. But the chopper was lifting off, retreating from the overrun lot while he watched in dismay from his place hiding behind a pile of zombie corpses as the giant mutant they'd nicknamed a tank tore the area apart.

He'd been so covered in zombie gore that none of the zombies noticed him slipping away... But he was alone now... And hardly knew where to go. He headed to the next safe house he could find and slumped down to the floor inside it, staring a little dully around at the walls covered in messages from other survivors. Where did he go now? They'd come here to go seaward... But that was the last military chopper out. He rubbed at his face, unsure whether to wait for another group or strike out on his own.

Ellis was almost never quiet, but now with no one to talk to, he was almost choking on silence.

He bowed his head closing his eyes. Ignoring the sounds of the lurching zombies outside as he did his best to hold back the tears. Saw Nick standing to the entrance of the chopper. Yelling as he leaned out with an outstretched hand for him. Almost falling out of the chopper altogether until Coach grabbed the gambler and dragged him back in. Rochelle screaming at the pilot to go back. To land for just a few more seconds so they could get Ellis back.

Ellis took a deep, shuddering breath to still his pounding heart. He had nowhere to go now. They had gone through the zombie apocalypse together. At every turn they had always had his back. Now, though, he found he had nothing to say. No story he could bring up about him and his friend Keith to fill the oppressive silence.

"I guess it's the end of the line for me now, isn't it?" Ellis asked the empty room. He opened his eyes again to gaze at his surroundings. There was a small stockpile of supplies in a corner of the room. Mostly of vegetables, a few soups, and one or two cans appeared to be SPAM.

Taking out a bottle of water from his pack Ellis shakily took a drink. He only managed to swallow a sip though before he closed it again. Unable to drink any of it in his state, he set it aside. Grimly he considered his new predicament.

Outside on the open highway Daryl Dixon drove his black motorcycle. His eyes narrowed to the air streaming past his face. His worn leather jacket with the faded angel wings on the back flapped in the wind. He had spotted a line of houses set a few yards away from the road. While reluctant to stop, he knew better. They were at least worth a look. The houses looked to be untouched at least.

Pulling up into a line of trees, Daryl stashed away his bike. Unloading his crossbow he loaded a bolt. He had seen the zombies in the city as he drove past them. A few had attempted to chase him, but only managed to stumble in his wake. With his pack slung over his shoulder, Daryl went to the houses. His eyes peeled for any signs of walkers approaching.

It only took him a few minutes to sweep through the first two houses. His efforts had turned up nothing more than a can of raviolis, a package of dehydrated milk, and a small stash of potato chips. Daryl took it all, decided the chips would be a good thing to have come winter. Even if they were stale, they'd make good kindling for a fire. When he came to the third house he noticed a safe house in the backyard. He looked around, but saw no signs of another human being close by.

Rising up, Daryl walked to the door but kept off to the side. As he came up to it, he reached out with his hand to try the door knob. He frowned when he found it locked and wondered if he would have to find a rock or a sledgehammer to smash it open. There must be supplies inside if someone felt the need to lock the door.

At first Ellis thought it was his own imagination. He heard the door rattle and at first assumed it was a zombie. Then he heard the door knob rattle again as if someone were trying to open it. A second later he heard the sounds of shuffling outside. Raising his head, he wiped his eyes and told himself not to be too hopeful. There was no way those military men had come back for him.

"Hello?" Ellis called uncertainly. He heard a scuffle and then silence. Grabbing his semi-automatic, he went to the door. Sliding the grate open a fraction, he peered outside. He didn't see anyone. Certainly not any undead wandering around in the backyard.

"Is anyone there? You can come out. I ain't no biter." Ellis said encouragingly. When no one answered he felt his heart despair. Perhaps his mind was playing tricks with him after all. What was the term he had heard to describe this? Made with grief? No, it had to be mad, right?

"Okay, look, I'm gonna open the door, alright?" Ellis said. Still, he heard no response to his questions. Shaking his head, he unlocked the door and began to open it.

A second later all Ellis heard was the reinforced door smashing into the wall. Hovering no more than an inch from his face was the tip of an arrow. A man with sharp green eyes glared directly at him. The man was breathing hard, his finger on the trigger of the crossbow. Ellis felt his face go pale as he considered this might be the end of him.

"Hey man." Ellis said swallowing. The man hardly seemed amused as he walked into the room, his worn steel toed boots not even making a whisper across the concrete floor.

"Are you the only one here?" Daryl asked. His teeth were hard grit when the man had opened the door. He had not been expecting to see someone his own age all the way out here. In front of him the other man shook his head mutely. Despite the crossbow in his face the man hardly seemed scared.

"Just me. Um, I ain't gonna hurt ya. Here, look." Ellis said holding up his gun. With the crossbow still trained on him he moved slowly, letting the intruder watch him place his gun on the floor as he held up his empty hands.

Daryl watched this with growing amazement. After a moment he took a few steps back from the man. Still circling him like a shark, he considered what to do with him. From the corner of his eyes he caught sight of the meager supplies. The man caught him looking and nodded towards them.

"You're welcome to what I have, man. All you had to do was, you know, ask." Ellis said to the intruder. Still, the intruder backed away. Lowering his pack one handed, he used the other to keep his crossbow trained on Ellis.

"You should have shot me when you had the chance. Didn't you ever learn not to open the door for strangers?" Daryl shot at this guy. The man blinked at him owlishly as if not comprehending his words.

"People tell me I'm not the smartest dude around." Ellis said with a sheepish grin. The other man still glared at him, clearly suspicious. After loading his pack with half of the supplies, Daryl stood back up. After a second, he lowered his crossbow when it became clear the other man didn't mean to hurt him.

"Word of advice, man, you see someone else comin', lock the door. Better yet, shoot 'em. They'll take everything you got. Even the shoes off your feet if they think they can wear 'em." Daryl said, motioning to the other man's worn boots. Ellis glanced down as if noticing for the first time he happened to be wearing them.

"Names Ellis. People call me 'El' for short sometimes. But I don't like that cause it sounds like a girl's name, you know? One time this friend of mine, he kept callin' me 'Elly' for no reason. So I told him, 'look here man, I ain't no Elly'. And he said…"

Daryl walked away with his crossbow held up as Ellis trailed after him, continuing to talk about some guy named Keith he had been friends with. Shaking his head he walked around the corner to his bike. He aimed his crossbow at Ellis when the man was about to approach him, making it clear he didn't want any passengers.

"Good luck to you, man. Try not to get bit." Daryl said gruffly. He mounted his bike as he hung his crossbow in the front of his bike. Revving the engine he pulled back out onto the road. Trying to ignore the burn he felt on the back of his neck. When he hit the asphalt, Daryl put on the gas and sped away.

Don't look back at him. You can hardly feed yourself. Just keep on driving. He'll be fine. Someone will come along and help him…

Shit.

Daryl did his best to talk himself out of it. He had a white knuckled grip on the handlebars. With a curse, he turned the bike around though. Going back towards the house where Ellis was. The survivor had stared forlornly after him. Then, seeing the other man leave, he had hung his head and gone back towards the safe house with slumped shoulders at the thought of facing the night alone.

"Hey, Ellis! Hurry up and get your shit!" Daryl yelled at the man's retreating back. Ellis jumped, spinning around to stare at Daryl with wide eyes.

"What you waitin' for, man? An invitation? I ain't picking up the rest of the supplies for ya." Daryl called to him. Ellis smiled as he spun around and dashed the rest of the way to the safe house. Grabbing his pack, he loaded up on the rest of the supplies and putting as many water bottles as he could fit into it. Ellis grabbed his fire hatchet, strapped his semi-automatic across his back, and his trusty skillet.

Dashing back outside he saw the man's motorcycle idling, feet planted firmly on either side as he waited for Ellis to return. When he did get back Ellis was beaming brighter than the sun. Getting onto the back of the bike, he put his arms around Daryl's waist as the man revved the engine. Taking off down the road just in time as walkers began to stumble towards them. Daryl looked behind him, but decided they weren't worth it.

"Thanks man, I don't do well on my own!" Ellis said over the roar of the engine. He thought he heard his rescuer snort but said nothing more.

"What's your name, man?" Ellis said after another minute. Daryl sighed, shaking his head at having picked up this guy. No doubt he would regret it later when the food began to run low.

"Daryl, man. My name is Daryl."