This will be a series of snapshots - each chapter is its own story, but they all explore the development of the relationship between Carol and Daryl. I'll keep putting these up until I can't think of any more or until I get bored and move on to something else. Let me know if there's something you'd like to see.

Trigger warning: reference to abuse and marital rape

Quarry

The bruises from the previous night were bad enough that Carol had to put on a cardigan despite the sweltering heat that was already pressing down on the camp. It had taken some doing, but she'd managed to get Sophia out of their tent for a few nights by talking Yolanda Morales into letting her daughter Leticia and Sophia have a sleepover. Ed, whose eye seemed to be drawn to the girl more and more every day, had been furious. He'd kept things quiet, but he'd been more careless than usual about where he left marks. The rest of the group seemed willing to turn a blind eye to the bruises she occasionally sported, but these were so obvious there was no way they would let it go. Especially that cop. So today she was nursing a sore shoulder and wearing a sweater when the temperature would no doubt top a hundred degrees later on. She would just have to be careful to stay out of the sun and drink extra water.

Her shoulder was too painful to allow her to take any more laundry down to the quarry lake, so she worked on pulling down what had already dried on the lines. She gathered it all up and sat near Dale's RV to sort and fold the pile – close enough to Ed that he could still see her, but far enough away that he'd have to come fetch her himself if he wanted her. Sometimes his laziness worked in her favor. She could keep an eye on Sophia and Carl and the Morales kids from here, too.

They'd been at the quarry campsite for several weeks now, and she mostly knew whose clothes were whose. Several piles built up around her as she sorted out the crisp laundry. The items she couldn't identify went into a separate pile that people could search through later if they were missing something. She'd been working for a while, and the heat was beginning to make her a little dizzy, so she stood up to take a break and get some water.

She stretched and walked to the fire pits where they kept the big coolers full of water that had already been boiled. She took a long drink and splashed a handful onto her head, wetting her hair and neck in an attempt to cool off a bit. If only there were a breeze, it wouldn't be quite so unbearable.

As she stood staring at the pattern the water drops made in the dust as they dripped from her hair, she heard someone approach from behind. She spun around, then took a step back in surprise. It was one of those Dixon brothers that had joined their camp last week. She'd not spoken with either one of them, but she'd kept a close eye on them both whenever they ventured over from their campsite. They were set up some distance from the rest of the group, and for that she was grateful. The one brother was loud, obnoxious, and seemed to delight in stirring up trouble. But it was the other brother standing in front of her now, the one who kept more to himself. His hands were covered in blood, and over his shoulder was a ...part... of an animal. A deer? There were ribs and only two legs, its head was gone, and it had been skinned and gutted, leaving only red muscle streaked with white in the general shape of what it had been in life. She backed away another step, overwhelmed by the smell of blood and meat in the cloying heat.

"You do cookin' for the camp?" He looked at her with guarded eyes, and something just shy of a sneer on his face.

"Sometimes," she mumbled, keeping her own eyes down and making sure she was several steps away from him since she knew Ed was probably watching. It was dangerous enough just talking to him.

"Got us a deer. We can't use it all 'fore it'll spoil in the heat, so you all might as well have it." He slung the carcass from his shoulder and held it out to her.

She looked around nervously, hoping to find someone else who could deal with this, but there was no one around. They'd all retreated from the heat.

She edged forward to take the deer from him, but snatched her hands back when his narrowed eyes locked onto the bruises on her wrist. Her sleeve had slipped up when she reached for the deer. Tugging her sleeves back down and clenching the ends in her fists, she backed away from him quickly. He made no move to follow or question her. He just watched her pull away with those narrow, cautious eyes.

Turning away, he tossed the carcass on the table that sat between the two fire pits, then headed for his own camp. She thought he threw one sidelong glance toward the tent where Ed was most likely watching her in a fury, but she wasn't sure. If he had, it would only fuel Ed's rage.

She found Amy and Jacqui in their tents and asked them to help her in deciding the best way to cook the venison that had been gifted to them. She needed to stay busy and avoid being alone. Their meal prep kept her occupied for a while, then she finished up sorting and delivering laundry while the venison stewed. She continued flitting around the camp the rest of the day, doing every little chore she could think of. That evening when the food was ready, she knew she had no choice but to return to the tent where Ed waited for her in his lawn chair, flicking cigarette ash into the still, stifling air.

After getting Sophia settled next to Carl and Lori with her dinner, Carol scooped up some of the venison stew and brought the bowls to the tent. She kept her eyes down and her ears open, alert for any cues that might tell her how angry Ed was. When he took the offered bowl without so much as a snide remark, she knew she was in trouble. She was grateful Sophia would be with the Morales family tonight so she wouldn't have to see or hear. Sinking down to sit on the ground next to his lawn chair, she ate her own stew with shaking hands, though she wasn't sure she would be able to keep it down.

After she was sure Ed had fallen asleep, she slipped silently from the tent. He'd been particularly vicious tonight as she'd feared. Once she'd gotten far enough down the road to the quarry lake, she let the sobs come, though she tried to keep as quiet as possible – she knew she was taking a risk coming out here alone, but she needed to nurse her injuries.

There was enough light from the nearly full moon that she was able to walk the road without stumbling. When she finally reached the lake, she had mostly cried herself out. She pulled out the cloth she'd brought with her, and wet it with the cold spring water. Gently lifting her shirt, she pressed the cloth to her ribs, shuddering when it made contact with the bruised and abraded skin. She continued her makeshift cold compress, doing her best to ease the various hurts. Finally she gave up. Stripping off her clothes, she walked straight into the lake, washing her skin and letting the cold water numb the pain in her ribs, her shoulder, her back, and between her legs. She stayed in the water until her teeth began to chatter. Realizing she had no way to dry herself off, she climbed naked onto one of the rocks that jutted out into the water. The stone still held heat from baking in the sun all day – it felt good on her cold hands and feet. She sat for a long time, letting herself drip dry as much as the humid Georgia night would allow.

The longer she stayed out here, the more chance there was that Ed would wake and discover her missing. So she gathered up her clothes and dressed, fabric clinging stubbornly to her damp, tender skin. Slowly, she trudged back up the road toward camp.

When she was about halfway up the hill, a voice in the dark startled her. It took all her self-control to keep from screaming.

"The hell you think you're doin' out here in the middle of the night? Ain't you got a brain in your head?" It was that Dixon man again. He stepped out from the trees to her right, crossbow in hand.

She backed away from him and didn't offer an answer to either question.

"You deaf? The hell are you doin' out here?"

"I'm sorry," she murmured.

"Don't 'sorry' me – don't care if you're sorry. What the hell're you doin'?" His voice stayed soft, but an edge of irritation had crept in.

"I-" She had no idea what to say. "It doesn't matter. I'm heading back now."

He snorted and eyed her in the moonlight, taking in her wet hair and the careful way she moved. Sighing, he said, "C'mon. I'll walk you."

She moved another step back from him. "Please – it's OK. I don't want to be any trouble."

He shifted his crossbow onto his shoulder. "Shit, I just don't wanna get stuck lookin' for your ass, ya get yourself lost. Now hustle it up. Ain't got the patience of a damn saint, ya know."

She studied him from under her lashes. Finally, she looked back at her feet and nodded. He huffed rudely, then turned on his heel and started up the road, not waiting to see if she followed. He moved so fast, she was winded by the time they reached the outer edge of camp, each breath sending searing pain through her ribs.

He watched her as she caught up the last few yards, wearing the same expression he'd had that afternoon when he saw her wrist. She shifted her weight uncomfortably and tried not to let on how painful it was just to breathe.

"Thank you. I can go alone from here," she whispered, trying to keep him as far from Ed's tent as possible.

He cleared his throat and looked away, out over the open quarry. "You be OK?"

She knew he didn't mean the walk back to the tent.

Biting her lip hard to keep from saying anything, she simply nodded. He looked back to her, catching the movement in the corner of his eye. After a pause, he gave a sharp dip of his head and took off in the direction of his own camp.

She watched him go until she lost sight of him in the darkness between the trees before returning to her husband's tent to wait out the rest of the night.