Daryl never gave much credence to the old movie trope of time suddenly going slow but then again Daryl never gave time a reason to. At least that was before he saw the Greene's farmhouse peak out from the scraggly bit of forest before the trees thinned to open field.

Air rushed past his ear when Sophia pulled in a sharp breath, her legs tightening along his waist, her arms doing the same. Short fingers drew at the collar of his t-shirt, crinkling the fabric something fierce.

"Daryl!" She sighed into his ear, her foot kicking at his side, urging him onward like a horse. He grunted when her feet pounded against his side, momentarily considering dumping like the horse did him.

"You wanna run to her?" he wheezed. He could see a group of them huddled around the RV tending to the small fire that offered light against the coming dusk. He could tell it was Dale was atop the camper, the old man's stupid fishing cap a dead giveaway. His back was too them, elbows bent, most likely holding binoculars to his eyes.

In response to the inquiry, Sophia just nudged him again and her arms tightened around his neck. Not without you. Her actions said.

With a groan he allowed himself to be urged forward breaking from the woods into the field. Sophia squeezed again, but he couldn't go faster, what energy he had that morning long spent.

Dale spotted them when they were halfway across the field, arms suddenly flailing in their direction, the whole group turning in tandem. Then suddenly a lone figure surged forward, half stumbling in their rush.

Sophia squirmed off of his back and met her mother halfway, her thin arms forming rings around the older woman's torso. The two of them merged into a pile of half formed sentences and overjoyed sobs.

Daryl slowed his pace, hand coming down to rest on his wounded side. Noting that his palm was wet on contact and it wasn't from the dampness of sweat.

The world seemed to slow as the rest of the group had caught up with the moment, swarming around the mother daughter pair. Carl had pushed his way through the crowd and was hugging Sophia just as hard as her mother. The general uproar hitting is peak when Daryl started for them, the strap of his crossbow cutting into his shoulder as he pulled it down.

By the time he limped past the group had enough time to collect themselves, easing their joyous shrieks for calmer questioning tones. All the same, their curiosity didn't stop their attention turning from Sophia to him, their goofy, relieved smiles still in place.

Daryl couldn't help but glower at them; His arms coming arms coming to wrap across his chest, stance belaying both comfort and aggression, as if daring them to come closer.

Tears still leaking down her face Carol stood and pulled Sophia on her hip. The gray haired mother stumbled toward him awkward under the extra weight of her daughter. Carol reached out for him with her unoccupied arm, pulling him close even as Sophia wriggled from her mother's grasp to stand on her own, a tiny hand wrapping into the loose fabric of his shirt.

The hunter felt uneasy as Carol held him close; unsure of exactly what to do with his arms,debating if he even should do anything with them.After a moment, his hands settled under her shoulder blades, giving a slight brush of contact barely longer than her whispered "Thank You" before he pulled away. Carol's smile didn't wane, she just nodded, eyes all milk and honey and took Sophia's other hand.

It was as if Carol's actions released a flood gate, the group merging upon them, all smiles and praise, with warm hands that squeezed his shoulders or arms.

Contact that would have been seen as loving but Daryl flinched at anyway. Ducking his head he growled, "Lay off, Sophia's the one who's been gone."

They paid him little attention, just kept nattering on about 'where'd you find her?' and 'Good Job Daryl," and all sorts of warm, gooey congratulations.

Rick was the only one beside Carol to attempt to give him a hug. Which turned into a one armed affair that Daryl was used to getting from his own friends, back when bars were still open and football played on Monday.

The Sheriff's voice was soft but gritty in his ear, "You did good Daryl."

"Yeah, well." The younger man pulled away and shook his sweat matted hair from his eyes, "I just looked in the right place was all."

When Daryl managed to break away he saw that only Shane hung back. The swarthy cop's mouth set, glare occupied with the sun behind the celebrating mass. For a moment their eyes met, and Shane conceded a nod before drifting away.

It didn't matter none, shortly after Ricks statement, the group eased back, the drift pulling everyone toward the camper like wood chips down a stream. They formed into little packs of two and three as they moved; Andrea and Dale, with T-Dog hovering near Glenn who huddled near Rick and Lori and Carl, with Carol, Sophia, and Daryl at the epicenter of it all.

All their eyes made Daryl's skin twitch, just like it had when they had surrounded him to inform him of Merle being left on the roof, that first day he met Rick. He fidgeted; a lone hand pressed against his side, waiting for the inquisition to be over so he could patch himself up and sleep away the nightmare that was his day.

None of them seemed to concerned with speed, just pressed water and food into Sophia's hands, watching her chew, and swallow as if they were afraid she'd disappear if they took their eyes off her.

The girl fluttered slightly from her spot in her mother's lap, as if as embarrassed as he was by their unyielding stares, becoming uncomfortable under the dirt and dried blood that soiled her skin and clothes.

As always it was Rick who pushed for any movement. His blue eyes grazing over Daryl's standing form before finally coming to a halt on his face.

"Where'd you find her?" Rick asked his voice low and rough with emotion.

The ground pitched beneath his feet, more ship than solid earth. His head swam and Daryl tried locking his knees to combat their shaking. Silently pleading for one of the group to notice and insist he go lay down. Because he wouldn't sit of his own volition, knowing if he did he wouldn't be getting up again without their help.

Daryl blinked and swayed and stumbled over his words. "The Farmhouse. She was with… Muh-Merl…"

Sophia came to life, voice coming out hard around the half chewed bit of jerky in her mouth. " Merle had me. Daryl killed him."

She was so pleased by it.

His hand pressed harder against his side, he could feel the blood pooling in his palm. His temple pounded as darkness rushed into his eyes. He stumbled, the chorus of shocked cries merging into one protest.

He wasn't conscious for when they pulled him out of the dirt and carried him to the RV's bed or for when Hershel arrived to check his wounds.

They would never know he was sick the next two days from grief.