A/N: Thank you to everyone who is following this story so far! Honestly I never though I would get one person to read this, let alone have anyone reviewing or following! So for that, thank you so so much!

Just a warning for this chapter, there is a bit of domestic violence in it, just a heads up.

Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead. (Unfortunately.)


Numb. Hands on the steering wheel, eyes on the road, foot on the gas. She was fully functioning, yet no emotion coursed through her body. Ice had frozen thick in her veins. She was numb.

The conversation kept repeating in her head, on an endless loop: '"Carol…I'm sorry..."'. Stop at a red light, wait for it to turn green, continue straight until Chestnut Avenue. '"I'm sorry Carol, but…there was…there was an accident."' Turn left on Maple Grove, pull car into hospital parking lot. Park car. Get out.

The fierce breeze nipped at the bare skin unprotected by the thin cardigan she wore, melting the ice slightly; just enough for her to get her thoughts together and walk through the glass doors of the hospital.

Luckily St. Peter's hospital was small enough that Carol found the ER easily. If it weren't for the ice that was freezing her insides together she would've run straight past the line of already waiting people that had queued in front of the check-in desk. She knew it was selfish, but she wanted nothing more than to march to the very front of that line and demand they take her to Daryl right away. Her mind was telling her that it was wrong, to stay put and not make a peep like she normally had in the past; her heart was telling her the exact opposite. Her heart was telling her that Daryl was hurt and he needed her there beside his bed like she was supposed to be.

Unfortunately her mind won and the ice froze her to her spot where she was left waiting helplessly as the minutes on the clock ticked by.

They stopped almost five miles away from her house. Daryl pulled his pick-up truck onto the beaten trail where normally you would find teenagers parked in their cars having midnight make-out sessions, not a beat-up station wagon; it was the perfect hiding spot. Carol hopped out of the truck, Daryl following close behind as she opened the driver's side door.

"Hey," he grabbed her wrist and turned her gently around to face him. "You call me if the bastard so much as lays a finger on ya." She sighed and tried to find his eyes behind the wisps of brown hair that fell into his eyes, but he was too busy staring coldly at the fading purple bruises exposed ever-so slightly by the mid-length sleeves of her shirt. Noticing her apprehension, he growled and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans, kicking a small rock with the toe of his boot. "I mean it. If ya need me to I can come over and kick the shit outta 'im first thing ya say."

Carol smiled slightly, knowing that Daryl's gesture was out of genuine concern for her; hell, she'd wanted to do the exact same thing a number of times. But she couldn't. Because even if by some chance she was able to escape while Ed was lost in one of his drunken stupors, he would find her. She knew deep in her heart that she and Daryl could run to the ends of the world and Ed would follow her there, just so he would always have the knowledge that she was his.

She turned back sullenly to the station wagon, turning the key in the ignition and closing the door without looking at Daryl. It wasn't until she had almost hit the end of the dirt road that she finally glanced at the rearview mirror. Carol's heart almost broke seeing Daryl standing in the middle of the road, hands still in his pockets, looking confused and almost…hurt?

She couldn't blame him. She told him that she loved him and hated Ed, yet here she was again, driving down the same path back to the farmhouse.

Carol's heart leapt into her throat at the sight of Ed's Mercedes parked in the driveway. She glanced frantically at the digital clock of the station wagon: 6:00, like it should've read. Never once had Carol gotten home after Ed; she always planned her arrival times to the T so that she could rush through the door with just enough time to cook Ed his "welcome back" dinner.

At this point, there wasn't a damn thing she could do. Her mind was telling her to run, run in the opposite direction away from the miserable possibilities of what Ed would do to her the moment she walked through the front door. Carol looked fearfully at the porch window and groaned, seeing the dim glow of a lamp behind the pale curtains. Ed was waiting for her, she knew. And no matter how many beers he had already downed, his ears were fine-tuned to the sounds of the station wagon; there was no way in hell he didn't know that she was home.

Gathering herself and putting on the best smile she could in the face of what she was about to do, Carol trudged up the front porch steps and unlocked the door. The hallway was dark, illuminated only by the light of the lamp several feet away. When Ed's voice didn't greet her immediately at the sound of the lock clicking back in place, she hoped for one foolish second that maybe he had just fallen asleep. "Where you been?" No such luck.

Heart fluttering like the wings of a hummingbird, Carol took three timid steps into the living room. Ed was seated in his recliner, facing away from her, staring blankly at the barely audible TV. "I uh, went over to the Grimes' house. I was visiting Lori. She needed some help with a few errands, being pregnant and all." Carol tried to put all the confidence she had into those words; she needed Ed to believe her. She tried to slip past the recliner and go to the kitchen, but he grabbed her wrist. Tightly.

"Wrong answer," he growled. She could feel his fingernails digging into the skin of her arm, his grip tightening. "Turn around when I'm talkin' to ya, woman." She flinched as he pulled her sharply around to face him, practically pulling her shoulder of its socket in the process. "You wanna try and answer my question again? 'Cause I already called the Grimes' place, and they said you haven't been there all day."

Carol was shaking now, mind racing as she tried to think of another plausible excuse, one that would at least lessen the beating she was sure to receive at this point. "Ed," she tried. "Please, just…just let me fix you dinner. We can have a nice evening…" She didn't get to finish her sentence before she felt the first blow. It was to her face, right to her jaw. She whimpered in pain and clutched the side of her face as stars burst behind her eyes.

Ed grabbed the front of her shirt and pulled her close to him, hot breath in her face as he screamed, "Now tell me where you really been! You been sneakin' around on me!? Huh!? Stupid bitch!" He shoved her against the coffee table and she felt the sharp corners dig into her sides. Carol fell to the ground and gasped in pain. Tears were streaming down her face as she begged, "Ed! P..p..please!" This only served to infuriate him more. His fingers wrapped into the thin layer of her short hair and he pulled her roughly off the ground, spinning her around to face him. "Don't ya dare try an' beg me! You did this to yourself!" And with that, he threw her once more against the table and walked to the front door, slamming it on his way out.

Carol sat huddled on the ground, curled into herself, until she heard the engine of Ed's car disappear in the distance. Body shaking with sobs, she managed to pull herself from the wood floor. She pulled the small cell phone out of her pocket and dialed his number.

Barely a ring had passed before Daryl answered. "Carol!? Is everythin' alright!?" he gasped out.

"Daryl." Tears shook her body once more. "Please, I…I need you."

"Miss?" Carol looked up from her hands in surprise to see a petite woman standing next to her, clipboard in hand. "Are you Miss…Peletier?" she read off her clipboard. She glanced up and smiled at Carol, though it fake and not at all genuine; it didn't reach all the way up to her green eyes.

Carol nodded. "Well I can take you back to Mr. Dixon now." She motioned to the hallway, presumably where the patients' rooms were. Carol shot up from her seat and began following her. For the moment, the ice had completely melted with the thought of finally getting to see Daryl.

The nurse led her to a room, numbered 103. "He's right inside. Dr. Greene should be with you momentarily to go over some things." And with that, she was off, blonde curly hair bouncing as she went. Carol opened the door and was assaulted by a pair of arms grabbing her around the waist. "Carol! Thank God you're finally here!" Rough hands pulled her back to arms-length and she was greeted by the worried face of Martinez. But it wasn't his face she wanted to see right now. She pulled away from his grip to turn around and look at the man lying in the hospital bed.

It felt like she was being hit with a ton of bricks; there he was, in front of her, alive and breathing. But seeing Daryl laying there, eyes closed, and slightly bloodied gauze wrapped around his head, everything felt wrong. This wasn't her Daryl, the Daryl that had saved her countless times from Ed's abuse; the Daryl that had held her in his arms as she'd cried herself to sleep after a particularly brutal beating; the Daryl that had kissed her bruises and made the whole world seem like it was alright. No, the Daryl in front of her looked like an injured little boy, broken and scarred.

Carol felt like her feet were moving through quicksand as she moved to the side of the bed. She reached a hand over and lightly brushed back the brown hair that was falling into his eyes with her fingertips. "Oh Daryl…" she whispered. She clutched his hand between her own and turned back to Martinez. "How did this happen?"

Martinez moved to the other side of Daryl's bed where a chair sat and collapsed in it, clearly exhausted from the emotional trauma of the day. He rubbed his face with his hands and sighed, looking to her. "We were over at Dale Horvath's patching up the roof of his farmhouse. We needed some more wood so Daryl went to climb down and get it and…he just…he just slipped Carol. Next thing I know he's fallen fifty feet and I'm screaming like a madman to get 911 on the phone." Carol gasped and felt the tears she'd been fighting to keep back all day start to prick at the back of her eyes. "Doctor's positive he at least has a concussion. They ran some tests already. Doc's supposed to be back and give some more details on those a little later."

She nodded and cupped Daryl's cheek in her hand. Glancing over at Martinez she said, "Thank you Caesar. I don't know what I would do without you. Daryl might be dead if you weren't there." Martinez shrugged it off, but she made a mental note to do more for the man later to show him exactly how grateful she was.

Martinez got up from his chair and walked over to her. He wrapped her in one more small hug before he pulled back. "I'm gonna head on home now. Wife's probably worried I ain't home yet." The man squeezed her shoulder and looked her directly in the eyes. "You call me when they tell you what's wrong. But don't worry your pretty little head too much. If there's anything I know about Daryl, it's that he'll push through this. Man's tough as nails." Carol gave Martinez a small smile before he headed out the door, a small thud the only way she knew he was actually gone; she was too busy looking back at Daryl.

With Martinez gone, the tears that had been threatening to spill over her eyes finally came. She cried quietly as she clutched Daryl's hand. After a good fifteen minutes, she finally stopped and scrubbed at her eyes furiously with the back of her hand, mentally scolding herself. Carol leaned over the edge of the bed and placed a kiss on Daryl's temple.

After all of the times that he had saved her, she had to be the strong one now; he needed her now more than she had ever needed him.


A/NJ 2: Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed! Reviews are always appreciated. :)