A/N: Alright, so right off the bat... There is no Daryl/Carol in this one. I needed to explain certain things, certain reasons... And for once, Rick being a cop worked in somebody's favor. : ) So anyways... Never fear, this was a moment of temporary insanity. Not a trend. We shall return to our normally scheduled 'Caryl' next chapter.

"So what exactly happened up there?"

Rick sighed, as Lori wrapped her arms around him from behind, leaning back against her. The comforting weight of her on his back grounded him back out of the world of nightmarish dreams, and into the world of the nightmarish reality.

"Carol… She just don't understand that… Hell, she's baitin' the damn bear out there," He said with a sad chuckle.

He could almost feel his wife's frown on his shoulders. "I don't think Daryl would hurt her, Rick. He's… He's not like Merle."

Rick turned around, and pulled her close to him, giving her a small smile. "Lori… I don't think Daryl would hurt her… intentionally. But…" He sighed, trying to think of what he wanted to say. "Daryl's like dog that's been kicked it's whole life. All it wants is some love, and affection, but it's so damn used to bein' beat on that whenever someone gets close, it lashes out."

"But he's not a dog. He's a thinking, human being, Rick. And I think –in his own way –he cares for Carol."

"You're not getting it, Lori. You… Lemme tell you a little story, alright?

"Me and Shane were on call one night, when Dispatch called out a 10-16; domestic disturbance. Neighbors had called in reports of a woman and kid screaming. So Shane and I did our thing, hauled ass over there. By the time we got there, all we could hear was a guy cussin'. So we broke the door down, and…

"It was like somethin' out of a nightmare. The mother was lyin' in the hallway just in front of the door, with her skull bashed in, and just… just covered in blood. We knew she was dead; half her face was gone, and we could see pieces of her brain splattered all over the walls. So we moved into the living room, and we seen this guy. Big ol' boy, musta been 6'2, two hundred pounds, and he was pummeling the hell outta this kid. So I pulled him off, started to cuff him, while Shane went over to the boy. Next thing I know, I look over, and this kid is goin' after Shane, like somethin' from the damn Exorcist. I mean, this kid actually knocked Shane on his ass, and ended up bustin' his nose, and one of his ribs 'fore Shane pinned him.

"Now see, the kid didn't mean it. He was just so used to bein' beat on, that when Shane touched him, he just lost it. Never known a kind touch his whole damn life, so when Shane tried to help him, this boy instinctively thought Shane was gonna hurt him. No rational thought-process, just pure instinct. The body protectin' itself from what it seen as a threat."

"And… you think that's what Daryl's going to do?" Lori asked, the skepticism obvious in her voice. "He's not an abused little boy, Rick, he's a full-grown man."

Rick snorted as he laid back on the cot that served as their bed. "You tellin' me, you never seen him with some strange sorts of bruises, or limpin' while Merle was around?"

Lori's hand shot up to her mouth, her eyes going huge. "No, that's… He's an adult, Rick. And you've seen him fight; he'd be more than a match for Merle. He wouldn't let…" Her voice trailed off, unable to continue.

He sat up, and gave his wife a gentle kiss on the forehead. "Lori… You wouldn't understand. Your parents were some of the nicest people I ever met. But I'm tellin' you… Violence is all Daryl Dixon knows. It's the only thing he's ever had. Why would he let Merle beat on him as an adult? Because it was habit. It was pattern. What he knew. Hell, that racist asshole probably started beatin' on him when he was still a baby. So it's been ingrained in his head for years. He ain't never had somebody touch him who don't mean him harm.

"You wanna know what happened up there tonight? Carol tripped, and fell on him. That was it. But Daryl… When I got up there, he was lyin' on the ground, drippin' sweat, moanin' like a damn Walker, twitchin' and shakin'. All 'cause Carol fell on him."

Lori shot straight up, horror written on her face. "What?! We've… We've gotta go up there, we gotta go get Hershel, and we have gotta go up there!"

Rick sighed, swinging his feet off the bed, and resting his elbows on his knees. "We can't, Lori."

"Rick, this really isn't the time to talk about how 'dangerous' he is! If he's… He could be in shock, like Beth was! You remember that, right? How she nearly died?" She snapped

"And just how the hell you think Daryl's gonna take that, huh?" Rick demanded. "Hell, you seen how well he reacted after he got shot; he was pissed that we all seen what we did."

"And what exactly did you see, Rick?" Lori asked bitterly, dropping down next to him on the bed.

Scars. Scars on his back from a belt, scars on his front from where somebody sliced him up like the Thanksgiving turkey. Scars on his arms from cigarettes being put out on his flesh. Scars, scars, and more scars. Scars everywhere.

"It was… it was ugly, alright?" Rick said quietly. "It was real ugly."

Lori sighed, as she lay her head on his shoulder. "So what, we just 'wait and see'? That the 'Great Plan'?"

"Yeah. That's about the size of it."