He stands in the shadows of the welcome hall and he's not sure why he's out here with the others. Why is he even at the stupid victim center in the first place? Is he honestly so weak his father's going to find him here? Oh, shit, WAIT, that's right, he's been here for years being nobody, being nothing. He's been here since he was a little boy and his older brother had finally dragged him from his home and dumped his ass there so he could go light up on ecstasy and fuck himself up on LSD or what the fuck ever.

Ah, whatever. He can't find any means to care anymore. Anyway, he's been here so long now the staff was making him volunteer helping out, and while he was still a hermit, he was gradually coming out of his shell with the praise they were giving him, but barely. It didn't seem his true self would ever be revealed at this point; the staff had given up trying to deal him through therapy for it years ago because he just got upset and left.

Until he met her.

This beauty, her hair graying from the stress of abuse, with a young girl clinging to her and chewing the back of her thumb anxiously, blonde hair and so innocent. Daryl was being forced to introduce the newcomers to the facilities and check them in. He tried not to keep stealing glances, feeling like a child, trying to ward off the blush beginning to creep onto his face. He cleared his throat, attempting to ask in a gruff voice, "Names?"

The woman shuffled forward nervously. She had nice curves, he had to admit, and he had never been with a woman but it didn't stop him from looking. Come to think of it, he couldn't say he had ever been attracted to anyone like he felt right now, like a moth to a flame. She was jumpy, and she eyed him suspiciously being he was a grown man in a shelter clearly stuck there, and he raised his eyebrows, nodding his head, trying to encourage her with an awkward, "Mm-mm?"

She started, looking down, saying in a voice of silk and an underlying streak of fear, "C-Carol P-Peletier... and Sophia Peletier..."

Daryl nodded, scribbling the names on the form before gruffly saying, "Reason for housing, anyone to look out for?"

"Um... My husband, Ed... Peletier..."

No surprise. But at the same time, it wasn't every day in this housing a woman with a kid came in, so he was naturally drawn, hopping from the chair and bundling up a bunch of supplies. "C'mon."

She didn't move.

He was halfway down the hall when he stopped and turned around. He squinted at her, scowling a little crankily, before relaxing a bit, forcing himself to loosen up. He sympathized with what these people went through on some level. He sighed, saying softly, "I'll show you around and help you get settled...?"

"Oh... Right." She looked a little flustered and took Sophia's hand, who looked terrified and shied closer to her mother, but at her reassuring words the little girl followed. He showed her around to the cafeteria and introduced her to some of the staff members before ambling through the halls to find the spare room listed on the sheet.

He opened the door for her, gesturing for her to go inside before following after. He couldn't take his eyes off of her, for some reason he felt compelled not to look away but he didn't want to intimidate her. He tore his eyes away, clearing his throat again and sniffing, unrolling the blankets and laying them on each bunk. He set up other basic supplies, handing her toothpaste and toothbrushes and other necessities. He tried to smile just a little to be polite; why was he trying so hard.

"You need anythin' else?"

"I think I'm okay," she said quietly, before smiling gratefully, "...Thank you."

"Mm."

He felt like he had overstayed his welcome, glancing at the little girl, before suddenly starting, saying, "...Oh, hey..." He reached into his bag, pulling out a doll they put in each pack in the case a child did come in, stepping toward her. Sophia shrank a bit but he extended the doll toward her, crouching to her level, smiling. "Hey... Here's for being so brave. I know what it's like."

His heart was in his throat and he didn't know why he was acting so open. Maybe it was the kid. Nevertheless, he felt his heart burst when the girl gave a little squeak and took the doll, hugging it to her chest, whispering, "Thank you."

He nodded, standing and turning to head out the door. He tied up the bag and began to make his way down the hall when he heard someone following him. "Sir...?"

He turned around at Carol's voice, trying to look agitated, growling, "Daryl. What is it?"

He remembered himself after she jumped a little at his tone and muttered an apology. She looked a little shaken, and he waited patiently by staring her down until she finally whispered, "Do you have any books?"

Daryl's face contorted into surprise, unable to hide it, a little taken aback, echoing uncertainly, "Books?"

She nodded slowly, looking more nervous by the second as if she had asked the wrong question. "Yes?"

Daryl shuffled, before beckoning her, leading her to the storage room and unlocking the door, holding it open for her. "Take your pick. I dunno what we got. Choose one."

Carol looked around, and he noticed she began to tap a finger against her lip thoughtfully, before picking up a book from on the the boxes, holding it tightly to her chest. Daryl leaned against the wall on his heels, and Carol slowly turned back to him, smiling gratefully. "Th-thank you."

"Mhm," he replied, eyeing the back of the book. Treating Survivors of Childhood Abuse. He frowned a little. "Hey... Don't tell me he..."

Carol flinched a bit and he gritted his teeth, knowing not to press any further. She murmured another thank you before scurrying out of the room like a mouse and he looked down at his shoes. Fuck.

At dinner, he spotted her by herself and came to settle across from her, offering Sophia his cookie, which she took and began to nibble on gratefully, smiling faintly. "I'd like to have kids someday," he said softly, before snapping out of it, beginning to pick up his food with his fingers. "Sorry about earlier."

He expected her to ignore him, so he was entirely puzzled when he heard her snort and begin to laugh. He looked up, frowning in confusion. "Didn't anyone ever teach to eat with silverware?" she laughed, and he felt himself very pleased he had made that delightful, heavenly sound possible.

"You're crazy! Silverware is for losers," Daryl shot back, smirking devilishly and she laughed again, nodding acceptingly, and for once, he felt like he fit in at the shelter, continuing to eat his food with them in silence that was now more comfortable, beginning small conversation with her.

"What's your name, Daryl?"

"Dixon."

"Really?"

Daryl froze, his eyes becoming a little nervous himself, glancing at her. "W-why, do you know... one of them...?" he choked out, biting his lip.

Carol shook her head, replying, "Just a nice name."

Daryl frowned but relaxed, not saying anything more on it so they dropped the subject. They discussed their ltheir interests, hobbies, small talk that all seemed to make sense when making friends. He thought maybe, just maybe, he had found someone that might actually make him enjoy it around the housing.

He bid her goodnight when it was time for everyone to go to their rooms, clambering onto his bottom bunk and sprawling out, staring at the ceiling for a while before drifting off to sleep. He had this crazy dream, a dream he couldn't comprehend yet, that Carol might be the girl he finally wines and dines, warms her bed and gets a job to support. Actually, he thought it might be the best dream he's had in ages, and he feels refreshed when he wakes up in the morning.

When he arrived in her room though to say good morning, he noticed her packing up what little she had brought and Sophia huddling in the corner of the bunk bed, looking unhappy. "What're you doing?"

Carol jumped, looking up at him, chewing her lip, before looking down again. The shirt she was wearing made the bruises and the abrasions on her arms alone obvious. She glanced at Sophia, looking like she wanted to cry before murmuring shakily, "I'm going b-back to Ed..."

"Why the fuck would you want to do that?" He forgot to watch his language around the kid. Carol flinched, looking fearful and he realized a growl had inched into his tone. He pursed his lips before saying slowly, "Look... I was abused as a kid. If you take her back there, she's going to get hurt... Lookit her, she's so innocent. You wanna ruin that?"

Carol fell silent, looking down and fidgeting with her hands. She shrugged a little and he knew somewhere in his head she wanted to say that her little girl had already been ruined by what she had seen.

"You wanna go back and get beaten til your skin is black? Hit with a belt til he gives you a little mercy, please him so he don't touch her?" Daryl's tone had become steel, and she seemed to realize he was speaking partly from his own experience by his voice, which belatedly he realized had cracked a little. "You're better than that. You're not nothing without him. You could do so much better... You could live so much better. You could be safe here."

Carol was beginning to look conflicted but at the same time terrified, murmuring, "What if he finds me?"

Daryl stepped forward, chancing to touch her arm just once awkwardly before straightening, his eyes blazing with determination. "I'll protect you."

"You don't know what he's-"

"Don't even dare."

She fell silent again and turned to him. Now she just looked pleading and desperate for approval like he had so many times over and somewhere in him he just wanted to take her in his arms. He chewed his lip before shuffling forward until there was less than an arm's length between them, taking a leap out of his comfort zone, saying confidently, "Leave him."

"...Why protect me, though?"

"Because you're every bit as good as them, as us. Every bit."