Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own anything related to The Walking Dead.

Other Stuff: This is the last chapter of "Splinter." I think it's a good stopping place, but we'll see where my mind takes me late at night... Another "Walking Dead" fic might pop up in the near future. Thanks again for the wonderful reviews—you are all awesome!

SPLINTER Chapter 5: Rescued

Daryl was dreaming of being buried alive.

And then he woke up to darkness. A sliver of moonlight fell upon his cot and also upon Rick Grimes, slouched against the opposite wall. Rick's eyes were shut and his mouth was hanging slightly open, his knife still clutched in one hand. The sound of his even breathing was almost comforting in the stale and stinking prison cell.

For a moment, Daryl had to force himself to remember where he was and what had happened. His head felt light, his body warm, and his mouth dry. About four dead walkers lay on the floor just beneath him, oozing black blood.

The attack. Rick's delusion.

Daryl moved slightly and felt the stab of pain piercing through his shoulder as blatant as an arrow point.

Oh yeah. And the broken bone.

Daryl rubbed his face, trying to shake the drowsiness of the painkillers Rick had given him hours ago. And then he relaxed back against the cot, trying to enjoy the temporary peacefulness of the space, even if the space might become his grave.

"I always thought I'd be able to get through something like this."

Daryl jerked awake, realizing that he had been drifting off again. He turned his attention to Rick, who was staring into the darkness.

"But when she died, part of me splintered and fractured. Like a—"

"A mirror," Daryl interjected.

Rick turned to him, smiling tiredly. "Exactly. And the pieces exaggerate some parts of your life and obliterate others. All of a sudden, she appears to me. And she's beautiful and young and she's talking to me. Daryl, she's telling me she still loves me. She's forgiving me. And it's all real. I'm not making this shit up."

Daryl realized that Rick was crying, and said, "I've never told Merle this before, but I saw our mom after she died. I used to see her sometimes when I was brushing my teeth at night. Or she would be at the convenience store down the block. Right when I was reaching to grab a soda or somethin', she'd be there. The first couple times she did it, I would freak out and run away. But then I got used to seeing her. When things got . . . difficult with my old man, she would be there. Mom never said anything, but I knew she was watching out for me, more than she ever did when she was alive."

Rick wiped his sleeve over his eyes, and nodded. "She must have loved you a lot to come back."

Daryl shrugged with his eyes. "I suppose so."

Beside him in the cell, his mother stood, young and smiling. She reached down to touch his hurt shoulder, and he fell asleep.

Rick had almost dozed off again when he heard a distant roar, a muffled sound like an old car starting. The noise made him sit up, checking on Daryl, still sleeping on the cot beside him.

Then came the gunshots right outside their door.

"Rick! Daryl!" came Glenn's voice from the outside.

Rick threw open the door and found Glenn and Michonne, weapons raised and breathless.

"Thank God!" exclaimed Glenn. "We thought you might be dead."

"How . . . ?" Rick had no words to express his astonishment. "What about the walkers? There must have been a hundred of them outside this door."

Glenn's face took a half serious, half amused expression. "You'd better come and see for yourself."

Daryl moaned and Rick turned back around.

"Is he hurt?" Michonne asked quietly.

Rick sighed, the full day's events beginning to catch up with him through exhuastion. "Broken collarbone. Help me get him up."

"We'll carry him," said Michonne quietly. "You lead the way."

But when they approached Daryl, he moaned again until Michonne knelt beside him, listening to his faint speech.

"My . . . crossbow."

Michonne related Daryl's message to the others, which caused a grin to break out on Glenn's face.

"Oh, don't you worry about that," said Glenn. "It's safe and sound."

Glenn instructed Rick to guide them downstairs, through the rubble of the prison to the outside. It was slow going because of Daryl's injury, and also because Rick was especially careful to watch where he stepped this time amid the crumbling debris.

At last, they had made it outside of the prison. Grimes breathed in the fresh night air, feeling free again, as if he had been reborn.

There was the muffled car-starting sound again, which turned everyone's attention to the fields immediately in front of them. Rick only had to go a few steps before he recognized what Glenn was talking about. The sight stopped all of them dead in their tracks.

"He did this all by himself?"

"Yep," murmured Glenn.

"Jesus."

Rick wasn't entirely sure where Merle had found a flamethrower, but he had one. And he had used it with artistic flare. Animal carcasses and bits of raw flesh blazed a clear trail from the prison across the field. In a direct line from the prison was a large metal cage, crudely crafted from bits of broken chain link fence. A walker hanged from the top of the cage, still alive, and on fire. The hundred other walkers were trapped inside with it, lured by the light and raw meat inside the cage like moths to a flame. It was definitely one of the strangest sights Rick had ever seen, and he couldn't help but stare in awe at it.

Meanwhile, Merle satisfied himself by dashing around the cage, stabbing a walker when he could, holding the flamethrower aloft like it was a sacred object, and whooping with delight. Rick had never seen the cantankerous man more alive. Standing some feet away was Carol, who was holding Daryl's crossbow, and had it trained on either the walkers or Merle, Rick couldn't tell.

When Merle spotted the group, he came running towards them, his face lighting up at the sight of his brother. Carol followed closely behind, picking up her step when she saw Daryl.

"Good to have you join us," growled Merle. "And, you're welcome."

"Who gave him a flamethrower?" muttered Daryl weakly, which caused all of them to laugh, except his brother.

"This is an M9, man," said Merle, who seemed to take offense at the comment. He swung the weapon around, stroking it. "They made these in the good old days of 'Nam. Swiped it from the Governor's stock while I was out hunting. Used my breakfast to save your ass, but I guess that's all right."

Daryl showed defiance the only way he could at the moment and stuck his tongue out at Merle. Afterwards, he wriggled free of Glenn and Michonne's helping hands, standing before Merle defiantly.

"So where's my crossbow?"

Carol reached the group before Merle could respond and quickly reached out to Daryl. Her eyes were full of worry and concern. "I told you to be careful."

Daryl grimaced at the pain her gentle embrace caused, but his eyes lit up when he saw what she was carrying. "And I told you I'd be back before you knew it."

"How bad is he?" Carol asked Rick frankly.

Rick shook his head. "I'd say his recovery will speed up significantly now that you found his crossbow."

Carol beamed and twirled it in her hands. "I found it in a corridor after Merle had lured most of the walkers out of the prison, but I was afraid that it meant . . ."

"That I had kicked the bucket?" Daryl muttered. "Not yet. Somebody's gotta keep an eye on Mr. Pyromaniac here."

Carol took his hand and he squeezed it gently back, just before he flinched and doubled over in pain. Glenn and Michonne got to him before he fell.

Merle set down his flamethrower, taking Michonne's place at his brother's side. Through Rick's tired haze, he realized that it was the first time he had ever seen Merle show some concern for his younger brother.

Well, it has been one of the weirdest days in recent memory.

"C'mon, little brother. Let's go on back and fix ya up."

Glenn and Merle helped Daryl back to the rest of the group, and Carol followed closely behind, her protective gaze covering every inch around them, crossbow at the ready as if it had always been at her side.

Rick watched the sight before him and began to laugh, soft and crazily. The walkers still buzzed inside their contained cell, and the one in the middle still swung from the top of the cage, smoking but producing no light anymore.

Rick picked up Merle's discarded flamethrower, looking it over as his laughter subsided. He wasn't even aware that Michonne was still present until she spoke.

"Been a long day?"

Rick thought about it. "It's been an insane, heart-splitting, strange, and shattering type of day. But I'm putting the pieces back together."

Michonne nodded, and the two of them walked back to the prison.