Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing from The Walking Dead.

AU/ZA

Fix My Broken Heart

Chapter 1: What Have I Done?

Oh God. What have I done?

The thick summer heat lay over her like a blanket as she sprawled across the mattress. She ran her fingers through her short, auburn-graying hair. Her blue eyes were blown wide as she let out a shaky, slow breath and ran her hand down her neck and over her bare breasts. She felt his hand, heavy and warm against her hip as he trailed it up over her belly, fingertips dancing over the pale marks from pregnancy, badges of honor, he'd once called them, easing her anxiety.

"That was…"

"I know," she breathed out, eyes fluttering closed when his hand moved up her stomach and over her breast, fingers flickering over the nipple briefly before she rolled to her stomach, the satisfying cool of the air against her freshly exposed back drawing out a moan of relief.

"What was that?" he finally drawled out, propping his chin in his hand, staring at her as his free hand wandered over the glorious curve of her backside.

"It was…I don't know," she murmured, blinking back the tears she'd sworn she wouldn't shed.

"Baby, look at me," he murmured, his hand smoothing over the jut of her shoulder blade as she burrowed her face into the pillow for a moment. She turned her head again, and a smile flickered up at the corner of his mouth. "What happened to us?"

"I've been asking you the same thing for the past six months," she pointed out, her hand moving out to graze over his arm. "Six months." She sighed heavily, wiping at a tear that slid down her cheek.

"Hey, don't cry."

"I can't help it. It's…it's an end. That's what this is." She sat up suddenly, pulling the sheets up over herself, her fingers shaking as her eyes clenched shut, and she willed the tears away. But when she felt the bed shift, her eyes flashed open, and the tears flowed again.

"Don't have to be," he said quietly, his hand moving under the sheet to grasp her fingers. "This was…didn't you feel it?"

"I did," she sniffled. "I did, and I'm terrified."

"Why? It's what we wanted, isn't it? Right?" He reached for then, pulling her close, and she willingly slid into his lap, her legs circling his waist. She rested her forehead against his for a moment, as his hands moved up her shoulders and neck, his thumb wiping across her cheek to brush away a stray tear.

"You pulled away from me," she breathed. "Tonight you were here, and things were...things were good. I had fun, and then we fell into the same pattern. We kissed goodnight, and here we are." She sniffled and shook her head. "I need to think, Daryl. I need to think." He sighed heavily, pressing kisses to her neck and her clavicle. "I can't think like this."

"You kickin' me out? You tellin' me to go?" His eyes were fixed on hers now, and she shook her head helplessly.

"I don't…I don't know."

"Don't end this. Please don't. Don't throw this away. I messed up. I did. I shoulda let you in. I'm sorry I…"

"Hey," she murmured, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "We're not going back there, remember? We're moving on."

"I can't," he choked out, his hands trembling as he stroked her arms. She leaned into him, kissing him softly now, stroking his hair, pressing her hand against his chest, feeling his heart hammering there.

"It's ok," she whispered, her voice cracking as she fought back a heavy sob. "Please. Daryl, it's ok. You can talk to me."

Six months earlier

To some, the sounds would have gone unnoticed. In a hospital, a beep was just another beep, blending into the background of the hisses and bleeps of machines doing what people couldn't. To Daryl, they were deafening. Each beep was another moment without her. Each tick of the clock was one moment closer to delivering the most devastating news she would ever hear.

He clutched her pale hand, running his thumb over and over the simple gold wedding band on her finger, and with his free hand, he rubbed his face, feeling the stubble from three days of not shaving scratching at his fingertips. The doctors had examined her this morning. She was still in and out of consciousness, but they said she was healing. They said she was getting better. They said she'd wake up. Hell, they'd said she'd waked up yesterday, and she hadn't. Her eyes had fluttered open briefly, but she hadn't focused on anything before slipping away again. Did she know he was there? Did she know he'd been there every moment since she'd come out of surgery?

"Baby, I'm so sorry," he murmured, kissing her knuckles. "Please wake up. Please forgive me. Please." She didn't answer him. She lay there, her eyes closed, her lips drawn in a grim frown. She had a bandage wrapped around her head from the stitches. Her head had hit the window hard the second the other pickup t-boned them. It was all a blur. It had happened so quickly, but at the same time, he could remember the details as if they had happened in slow motion.

Oh God. What have I done?

He was holding onto her hand with both hands now, and he was bowing his head. He'd never been much of a praying man. He'd only prayed one other time in his life, but that day had turned out pretty damned good, and he hoped this one would, too.

"Don't know if you're up there. If you're listening. You ain't never done much for me. Least not 'til she came along. You can't take her away. Couldn't live with it. She's gotta be ok. I'm lost. Don't know what I'm doin'. What I'm gonna do. And S…"

"Daryl." He opened his eyes and looked at her, watching the way her brows furrowed as she struggled to wake up. His heart leapt in his chest. Maybe God was listening, after all..

"I'm here, sweetheart. I'm right here." He gave her hand a little squeeze. "Open your eyes, Carol." She winced in pain before her eyes fluttered open. "Hey."

"Hey," she whispered weakly, a little smile drawing across her lips. "Oh God, what happened?" She blinked a few times, trying to adjust to her surroundings. There was a vase filled with Cherokee roses, her favorite flower. There were balloons tethered to the end of herbed. There was a pinching sensation in her arm, and she could hear the beep of a monitor close by.

"It's ok," he urged. "Just relax. It's ok."

"Daryl, why am I here?" she asked, her lower lip trembling, as her hand moved down the blanket, over her stomach which felt bulky and sore, but something wasn't right. She gasped softly, trying to sit, feeling a deep, throbbing pain as she made her attempt. She cried out.

"Hey. Hey, it's ok. Just lay back."

"Daryl, something's not..the baby. Daryl, where's my baby? Where's Mackenzie?" Daryl swallowed hard, staring into her eyes, unable to form the words. "Daryl, where's our baby girl? She's too early. She's…is she in the NICU? Where…"

"Kenzie's not here, baby," he said quietly, stroking her hand. "It was too early. She didn't…"

"No," she whimpered, her eyes welling with tears. "Don't tell me that. Please, Daryl. Don't tell me our little girl's gone."

"I'm sorry, Carol. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." She shook her head again, the tears sliding down her cheeks freely now.

"Please stop. Stop. Don't say it. Don't."

"I'm so sorry. It's my fault. I'm so sorry." He broke down then. He hated himself in that moment. He'd sworn to be strong for her, to let her take out her anger and her grief in whatever way she needed to. He'd be the strong one. But in that moment, it all came pouring out of him. He hated himself. He wished it had been him instead, not his precious daughter. Not this life he and Carol had been preparing for. Her nursery was already painted in purple and pink. She was a blessed addition to the family; a wanted miracle. And now they'd never get to know her.

"No," she cried. "My baby. I just want my baby."

He flinched and pulled back, and he saw her face crumble. She sighed and shook her head.

"We're here again. You won't talk to me. You won't."

"You know why," he muttered, moving to sit on the side of the bed.

"Then you need to go." She moved behind him, gently pressing a kiss to the back of his neck. "We can't do this if you can't talk to me. And you can't be here in the morning. It's too much. It's too confusing."

"I need time."

"I know," she breathed. "I know. So did I. But I need to be alone. I can't…I can't think with you here."

"So that's your decision?" He'd come over that night to help make that decision. It had to be mutual. They had promised each other that much. But neither of them could give up the other, and that was how they'd ended up here. Tonight. In her bed. In their bed.

"No," she said quietly. "But you know why you can't stay." He nodded, his shoulders slumping as he made a grab for his clothes.

"I'm going." He pushed up off the bed and started to pull his clothes on. Carol watched him, watched the way his hands trembled as he did up the buttons on his jeans.

"You aren't going, are you?"

"What?"

"To Dr. Blake," Carol said quietly.

"'Course I'm goin'. I'm there when you are."

"Not to our joint session. To your sessions. The ones you're supposed to go with her. The ones that are supposed to help you talk to me, since you won't talk to me in therapy and you won't talk to me here."

"You know why," he muttered again.

"I get it," she said softly, watching as he shrugged on his shirt and stuffed his feet into his boots. "But you know I don't blame you."

"Makes one of us. I was s'posed to protect you. That was on me."

"You had no way of knowing what would happen, Daryl!" she exclaimed, wiping fresh tears away. "I didn't. And I don't hate you. I don't."

"Maybe you should," he decided, looking around frantically for his keys and wallet before remembering he'd left them on the coffee table downstairs. And then he was out the door, before she could speak again.

"I couldn't," she whispered to nobody. "I couldn't hate you even if I tried."

Out in the hall, Daryl crept quietly to the stairs, his hands still shaking as he reached out toward the banister. It was when he heard a noise behind him that he turned, hoping Carol had changed her mind, hoping she wasn't going to make him leave again.

"Daddy?" His gaze fell on the sleepy face of his six-year-old daughter.

"Soph," he said quietly. "It's late, honey. You need to go to sleep."

"Are you home for good, Daddy?" Daryl sighed heavily, and he looked up to see Carol's door open. She stood there in her white bathrobe, her eyes red from crying, her lower lip trembling as she leaned her head against the side of the door. She'd been asking for months. When's Daddy coming home? When's Daddy coming home? She didn't quite grasp the situation the way they'd hoped, and every time she'd come from a weekend at her daddy's, she'd cry herself to sleep for a couple of nights, asking her mother why they all couldn't just live together.

"Hey, Princess," he said quietly, kneeling down, his gaze catching Carol's briefly. "What're you doin' up?"

"Got thirsty," she said softly. She looked up at her mother. "Mama, is Daddy home for good?" Carol sighed and sniffled, and she looked to Daryl.

"Hey, I'll tell ya what," Daryl offered, scooping his little girl up into his arms, tickling her, making her laugh, hoping to make her forget her question for a little bit, "why don't I tuck you in? Show mama how we chase away the monsters when you stay with me, huh?"

"Okay!" Sophia giggled, having completely forgotten about her thirst. She hugged her daddy around the neck, and he carried her off toward her bedroom. Carol sniffled again but followed them, standing in the doorway as Daryl gently tucked his daughter under the covers.

"G'night, Princess Sophia Elizabeth Dixon." Each name was punctuated with a kiss on the forehead, then the nose, then the cheek. She giggled as he tickled her afterward. Carol couldn't help but smile at the scene.

"Don't forget to chase the monsters away, Daddy!" she called.

"'Course I won't." He made a grand gesture of lifting up the bed skirt and peeking under it. "Alright, you big, bad monsters, this is Sophia's daddy, and I'm tellin' you now, you better get, 'cause you don't wanna mess with me." Sophia gigged, pulling her covers up over her nose, peeking out as Daryl got up and moved to her closet. He opened the door and turned on the light. "Nope. No monsters in here. But if any of 'em are hidin' in Soph's toy box, they better get goin', 'cause they don't want no trouble. Right, Soph?"

"Right!" she said with a nod. Carol covered her hand with her mouth, muffling a little giggle as Daryl made his way to her window, checking to make sure the screen was secure as the gentle Georgia breeze drifted in. It was a quiet night, almost completely black out with the new moon. He peered out over the yard, seeing nothing but a squirrel skittering across the damp grass and scurrying up a tree.

"The monsters are gone, Soph. They come back, you just spray 'em with this, alright?" He grabbed a water bottle off her night stand. Carol had made it up for her about a year ago, when she'd started having nightmares. It was just a regular plastic bottle that Carol had craftily decorated with a handmade label that said 'Monster Spray.' It was filled with plain old tap water, but it worked so well that when Daryl had gotten his apartment, she'd made one for Sophia to take along on her weekend visits with her daddy.

"Daddy, will you be here in the morning?"

"Daddy's gotta work, sweetpea," he said quietly, stroking her reddish-blond hair. "But I'll see you Saturday, ok?"

"Saturday's too far away."

"Hey, I love you, you know that, right?" Sophia nodded.

"Love you too, Daddy."

"Good girl." He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "You sleep tight, Soph."

"Night, Daddy." Daryl got up and moved past Carol and out into the hallway. Carol gently shut Sophia's door behind her, and she reached out instinctively to touch Daryl's arm. He recoiled.

"Don't."

"Daryl. I'm sorry."

"The weekend ain't enough."

"We can work something out," she promised.

"No." He shook his head. "I want my family back. Wanna sleep in my own damned bed. Wanna make love to my wife without worryin' she's gonna kick me out when we're done." Carol flinched.

"I don't know what to do, Daryl," she whispered, her gaze dropping to the floor. "You tell me you want to be with me, but then you draw away when I want you to talk to me. It's like you're two different people. It scares me."

"I wouldn't hurt you. I'd never hurt you." Carol reached out, gently touching his cheek.

"I know that. It's one of the many reasons I love you so damned much." He pulled her into his arms then, resting his forehead against hers as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "It's too much. It's too much for Sophia, Daryl. That's why I asked you to leave. I was depressed, and you were beating yourself up over something I told you wasn't your fault. You know it wasn't, but you still blamed yourself, and you pulled away. You went off with your brother, and you were doing God knows what, and I was terrified you were lying somewhere dead all that time. You pushed me away. You told me I was better off without you. Now you're telling me you want us back. I don't understand, Daryl."

"I don't either," he choked out. "I'm messed up."

"I think we both are," she said quietly. "That's why you need to keep up your appointments with Dr. Blake. Please, Daryl. I want us to be a family again. I don't want to get a divorce. I don't want this. I just want things the way they were. I want to move on. Together." She kissed him softly then, feeling his breath shuddering against her lips.

"I love you," he murmured, holding her close.

"I love you, too," she whispered, stroking his cheek. "And that means you have to go. I need you to go. Please, Daryl. Please. Don't make this harder than it already is, because you keep pushing, I'll let you stay, and things won't get any better." He nodded.

"M'sorry."

"God damn it, stop apologizing! I don't blame you. I don't hate you. I just need you to stop blaming yourself. I hate that it happened. But it happened. You were driving, but you didn't do this. You didn't kill our baby. It happened, Daryl. It just…it just happened." He ducked his head as if he'd been hit. "Please. Please stop blaming yourself. The man that did this was drunk. He was drunk, Daryl. He caused the wreck, he killed Kenzie. He's in prison, and he's paying. So stop trying to re-write the story. Stop trying to make it your fault, because I just…I can't take it anymore." She sniffled. "Sophia needs you. I need you. Please just forgive yourself so we can be a family again."