AN: Just to answer a couple questions from the reviews: CLADD - no it will NEVER get old and yeah, I def had you in mind when I started this one :) As for everyone else who is reading, following, reviewing - y'all are the BEST! I have so much passion for this one, so I freak out like a crazy person with every email notification I get, LOL And I'm not exaggerating. Thank you a million times over!

Chapter 3

Carol woke to the sound of the door opening. "Well isn't this cute?" Gemma said to Nero, smirking at the sight before her. Carol sat up and yawned, then looked down at Daryl who was still asleep.

"Some guard dog he is?" she muttered, swinging her legs over to the floor and kicking him gently.

"Huh? What? Is someone here?" Daryl jumped to his feet instantly and drew his gun, aiming it at Gemma and Nero.

"Hey, at least he's a quick draw," Gemma said, rolling her eyes. "Okay Marshall Dillon, go get showered so you'll fully alert." Daryl eyed Carol and hesitated. "She'll be okay, with us," Gemma motioned to herself and Nero.

"What am I doing after I shower?" he asked, putting his gun away.

"I promised Carol yesterday that someone would take her home to get some of her things while her hubby is at work," Gemma explained. "I think Jax needs you this afternoon…" she looked to Nero for confirmation.

"Got a few things he wants to work on at Diosa," Nero replied. Carol smiled. She was excited to start working there and she knew Nero would be a great boss. She could tell that he was a good guy. The way he was so patient and observant, and the way he was so attentive and gentle with Gemma. Once again she felt that pang of envy. It wasn't that she was jealous of Gemma having Nero, she was just envious because she wanted someone like that too. She couldn't help but notice the way they were always in close proximity to one another and often touching each other, likely without even knowing they were doing it.

Daryl nodded and left. "Uh, I wouldn't mind having a quick shower too," Carol said. She had a quick shower at the hospital before she was released but she still felt icky.

"Well unless you wanna shower with him you might wanna give him a few minutes first," Gemma laughed. Carol blushed and Gem apologized. "Sorry Sweetheart. Here, have some coffee in the meantime," she passed over a steaming mug and Carol took it gratefully.

"I'm gonna go talk to Jax… see what kind of disaster the club is in this morning," Nero announced. He kissed Gemma on the cheek and left.

The two women chatted for about 20 minutes about how Carol was feeling. She admitted that she was a bit nervous that Ed would find her, but Gemma promised to keep her safe. Carol believed she was truly safe with Gemma and her extended family, though she couldn't get the way Daryl had drawn his weapon out of her head. If there was danger - he wouldn't have hesitated taking a shot. It was comforting and terrifying all at the same time. Had he killed people before? Had Gemma? Nero? Chances were they either had committed or had knowledge of murders. The thought itself was shocking for someone as sheltered as she'd been all of her life. But this was a biker gang she was involved with now - a gang. They were involved in a lot of dangerous, scary shit. But they were offering her help and protection. It was this bizarre contrast of good people doing bad things that was hard for Carol to wrap her mind around. Anything was better than being abused, a prisoner in her own home, and Carol was truly thankful for the help.

"I'm sure the shower is free if you want to head over to the club now," Gemma said. "Come find me when you get back and I'll have Chucky fix us up something to eat."

Carol wondered who Chucky was, she hadn't met anyone with that name yet. She went into the clubhouse and made a beeline through the chaos to her room. It was a mess out in the main room. There were people passed out all over the place, some wearing clothes - some not. She grabbed her things quickly and headed to the shower. People would be waking up soon and she didn't want to lose the chance while she had it.

Half an hour later she was showered, changed, dressed and she'd used the bottle of mouthwash on the counter, making a mental note to be absolutely sure she grabbed her toothbrush. Daryl was waiting in the hallway when she came out of her room. "You think you can fit everything you're bringing in here?" he asked, holding up a large backpack.

Carol thought for a moment. She really didn't have a lot to take. Some underwear, bras, a few clothes, toiletries, her purse… that was really it. She didn't have a lot of possessions because she wasn't allowed to have anything Ed didn't think she needed. "Yeah I think so," she said with a nod.

"Perfect. Here," he handed her a helmet.

"What… what's this for?" She asked.

"You have to wear a helmet… to ride on the back of my bike," he replied, giving her a strange look. Carol felt silly. Of course they were going on a motorcycle - biker club and all. "If you couldn't fit it all in the backpack I would have asked Gemma to borrow her SUV," he explained.

"Maybe it won't all fit in the pack after all," Carol said quickly.

Daryl narrowed his eyes and then smirked at her. "You're scared," he said.

Carol sighed. "I've never been on a motorcycle before." Part of her was actually excited, but a bigger part envisioned wiping out and leaving half her skin on the road. "Can I even ride with this outfit?" She was wearing a pair of black capris, gladiator style sandals, and a cute white blouse under a fitted leather jacket.

Daryl shrugged, "Just going across town, you'll be fine." He started to walk away and she had no choice but to follow. When they got outside he stopped in front of his bike and started to put on his own helmet. Carol followed suit but her hands were shaking and she couldn't get it done up. "Here, let me help," Daryl offered. His voice was much softer when he spoke again, "I'm a good driver, I promise. I won't go too fast. You'll be just fine." Carol felt his hands brushing under her chin as he did up the helmet. He snugged it tight. "Ready?"

"Yep, I think so." He gave her a few instructions and then got on, waiting for her to climb on behind him. Carol took a deep breath and swung a leg over. She reached around his waist to hold on like he'd said and they were off. Her heart was pounding at first with fear, but by the time they were two blocks away from TM her heart was still pounding but with excitement. It was easy to see why people got addicted to riding. It was such an incredible feeling to have the wind flowing past your body. It felt like… well, freedom.

It didn't take her long at all to completely relax and she started to take in her surroundings. When they came to a stop at a streetlight Carol noticed the looks she was getting. There were some that looked disgusted, while others looked incredibly envious. She wasn't sure how to take either kind of glare from these strangers. So she did the only thing she could think of and smiled. For once she honestly didn't give a damn what others thought of her. They didn't know what she'd been through in her life or why she was with Daryl. They didn't know what kind of man he was or that he would die to save her life if it ever came to that. But Carol knew. These men had a code and they didn't stray from it. If Daryl was given a job he would do it, without question and without fear.

When they finally pulled up to her house the car was in the drive. It wasn't surprising because Ed often carpooled to work or walked on nice days. It was only a few blocks and he often spent gas money on booze or gambling or other stupid shit he didn't need. Daryl followed her up to the door and watched as she grabbed the spare key from above the doorframe. After she opened the door he stopped her and drew his gun. He entered first and then motioned for her to come in. "Make sure he ain't here," Daryl whispered.

"Ed?" Carol called loudly. "Ed?" she yelled again. Nothing. The house was empty. "He's not here," she announced. Then she looked around. "Holy shit," she muttered. The house was a disgusting mess. She wandered into the kitchen and almost gagged at the smell. The sink was full of dishes, the garbage was overflowing and the floor was muddy. Instinctively she yanked open the dishwasher, which she knew would be empty and started to put things in it.

"Uh, what are you doing?" Daryl asked, giving her a strange look.

"Oh… uh… it's so dirty," she muttered, it was the only excuse she could come up with. "I need to clean…" Carol hadn't realized how much coming home would affect her and her mind was suddenly swarmed with too many thoughts. The only thing she could do was go into robot mode and that meant cleaning.

"Carol?" he stepped closer. "Hey, you okay?"

"Yep," she nodded, trying to convince him and herself. "Just let me load this up and…"

"No," he snapped. His tone scared her and Carol dropped the plate she was holding. It hit the floor and broke into several pieces. She looked at Daryl, wide-eyed. "You ain't doing shit for this fucker anymore," he said icily. "Get your stuff and let's get outta here."

"But.. but…" she protested. "It won't take long to clean it up." Carol bent to start picking up the broken plate.

"Stop, please?" Daryl said. His voice had changed this time, it was softer and it wasn't a demand it was a request. That caught her attention and Carol stood up. She set the two shards of ceramic on the counter and sucked in a deep breath, willing herself not to cry.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I just… being back here… knowing, no… hoping, this will be the last time I ever see this place… It hit me harder than I expected. Cleaning is my defense mechanism." Finally she turned to look at him and the look in his eyes struck her - it was clear empathy. What had happened to him that he understood what she was going through?

"I'm sorry I snapped at ya," he replied, looking genuine.

Carol nodded. "Okay, give me 10 minutes and I'll have everything I need." Daryl handed her the backpack and she took off. Going up the staircase was hard and she felt the anxiety grip her with each step. She had felt the sharp pain of every stair edge slamming into various parts of her body as she tumbled down. There were still bruises on her back, thighs, stomach and face to remind her of the ordeal. Carol found the strength somewhere inside her to rush up the flight and quickly get everything she needed from her room. The bedroom was every bit as disgusting as the rest of the house. Dirty clothes and dirty dishes were everywhere. Empty chip bags were on the floor and a pizza box was in the middle of the bed.

She started throwing things into the backpack and by the time she added her purse at the end it was already full. Carol fought with the zipper and then slung the pack over her shoulder. "Done," she announced, quickly putting distance between herself and the landing of the stairs where she was in and out of consciousness.

By that point she just needed to get out of the house so she headed straight for the door. Daryl got the bike ready and they just started to put on their helmets when she remembered something. "Shit, I gotta go back in," Carol announced. "I have a stash of cash I forgot to grab." Daryl took the pack and she raced back inside. She had been hoarding cash for years. A few dollars here and there. It was a little security blanket she had made for herself. She would lay in bed dreaming of a day she would find the courage to take the cash and run. The last time she counted it there was over $4000. She would keep changing her goal every time she chickened out. The last time she said when she got to $5000 she would get away.

Carol went into the spare room and climbed up into the closet. She reached way into the back and found the shoebox. She pulled it out and opened it, then grabbed the wad of cash. She had recently made a trip to the bank without Ed knowing and exchanged the small bills for $100s. So the wad was much smaller than it had been before.

Carol shoved it into her pocket and took off down the stairs once again. As she neared the bottom she heard angry voices and she was gripped with panic. "Get your fucking hands off me, you piece of biker trash." Ed. He was here. How? Why? "Carol? Where the fuck are you, you goddamn whore? You're fucking gang members?" There was a loud bang as the door slammed open. "Carol?" he screamed.

She froze. She couldn't move. It had been a long time since she'd heard him that angry. Even the day he put her in the hospital he wasn't that mad. And then he appeared, at the bottom of the stairs and looked up at her. "Get down here Bitch."

GEMMA - GEMMA - GEMMA - GEMMA - GEMMA - GEMMA - GEMMA

Gemma hopped up to sit on her desk in front of Nero who was in her chair. She sighed. "Tell me again that I'm doing the right thing."

Nero rolled the chair closer and leaned forward, resting his arms on her thighs. He looked up at her. "You're doing the right thing, Mama. But talk to me, what's got you so nervous?"

"We're taking a wife away from her abusive, possessive husband. He's not going to sit back and allow that without a fight," Gemma said. "If she sticks around Charming, eventually he will find out where she is…"

"And the club will have to deal with him," Nero finished for her. "You know I ain't one to suggest murdering random citizens, but I ain't gonna feel bad if the guys take out scum like Carol's husband."

"I won't feel bad either," Gemma admitted. "But it's just one more thing to pile on the club, ya know?"

"She worth it?" Nero asked. Gemma looked down at him, into his beautiful chocolate brown eyes. He was so wise and non judgemental. She could admit anything to him and he always understood. But the question he'd just asked, well, it was the only one that mattered.

Gemma nodded and she smiled at him. "Yeah Baby, I believe she is."