Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews everyone. I'm glad you are liking the story. I'm enjoying writing it. Trigger Warning: Please note that there is mention of domestic violence in this chapter.

Chapter 4: Home

When Carol awoke, daylight was filtering through the cracks of the unit door. She felt weighted down even though she felt rested for the first time since the world had gone to hell. Noticing that Daryl's arm had fallen across her during the night, she panicked wondering how he might react to such an innocent situation. He was mistrustful and kept himself at a great distance from the rest of them whenever possible, so she worried that he'd blame her—it was her fault—she had insisted they share the warmth. But she didn't want him to be angry with her. Not after he'd promised to teach her how to fight.

She turned her head slightly to take him in. He looked so vulnerable coiled up next to her, sound asleep. His face was nearly nuzzled into her neck. She listened to the heavy rhythm of his breathing. It pained her to think about this tender side of him that he tried to keep so deeply hidden. He was usually tightly wound, defensive, as if he expected harm to come to him. She understood that feeling. She knew how that had come to be. Though he had tried to hide them, Carol had seen the scars on his back that night he had returned with Sophia's doll and a puncture wound in his side from where he had fallen on his own arrow trying to find her daughter. Even before she had seen the scars, she knew that Daryl had had his own asshole in his life, his daddy most likely, who tried to beat out the sweetness that lived in the very core of him. It hurt to remember how Daryl had recoiled from the kiss of gratitude she had planted on his forehead. He didn't understand why she had been so grateful to him—almost like he had been shocked she'd noticed him at all. He had risked so much for her; yet, he had no idea how significant his actions had been and what they had meant to her. She told him, of course, every chance she could get, but he still couldn't see who he really was. It saddened her that she had to tell him the weight of his own worth, that he was every bit as good as the others. Every bit. And secretly, Carol respected Daryl more than the others because he had made much more of an effort to help her. It was harder for him, she realized, because no one had ever believed in him, and he was trying so hard to do what was right.

She was growing quite fond of Daryl. Yes, he was prickly, but his heart was always in the right place. He was kindhearted, but insecure. Getting close to others was a terrifying necessity for him. As much as he prized his solitude, he couldn't make it on his own. Not now. Carol learned quickly that patience was the more effective approach with him. Humor worked, too, if he was in the right mood. If she pushed him too far outside his comfort zone, he lashed out. But as much as Daryl bit out, he was still honorable. He would always do what was needed if he could. He just needed time to come to his own conclusions. They were building trust together. It was precarious, but it was a start.

She felt his hand jerk and pull at her belly. He began to stir beside her, letting out a soft groan. She closed her eyes and feigned sleep. She knew it would be worse for Daryl if he knew she had seen him in this way. He would be embarrassed if she had witnessed his humanity, his accidental closeness. He was so afraid that his tenderness would portray him as weak. When really it was the thing she admired most about him: he was sensitive and clearly aware of the needs of others and his willingness to take action made him a strong asset to the group. So she kept her distance and played along, supporting him at every opportunity, waiting for him to realize that there was nothing wrong with needing comfort. She wanted him to have it.

Daryl was dreaming about his mother's garden. It was a memory from long ago that he'd almost forgotten. He was just a little boy, barely out of diapers. He remembered seeing her, his mama, kneeling on the ground, her hands plunged deep into the moist earth as she planted seeds. She glistened under the sun like the angel they had hung on the Christmas tree. It was a hot day, and beads of sweat had gathered along her brow and the back of her neck. There were a few strands of hair which fell alongside her cheeks from the single braid in which she had always worn her long, brown hair. They blew across her face in the light breeze as she worked. He adored her. She smiled at him as he toddled towards her, his hands outstretched, proudly showing her a fragrant, white flower that he had picked. She wiped the hair out of her eyes with the back of her hand and sat back on her heels. Her eyes were the color of the sky.

"Did you pick this for me, Daryl?" she asked him affectionately as she reached out to take the flower from him.

He beamed at her and shook his head in delight as his mother accepted his offering. He grabbed at his hands excitedly when she placed the flower behind her ear.

"You wook pwetty, Mama," he gushed jubilantly.

"Oh, my sweet, sweet boy," she told him as she gathered him into her arms. "I love you."

She showered Daryl with kisses and he squirmed with glee. He felt light and free. Safe. He hugged her eagerly and she smelled like fresh earth, roses, and— Home.

The image of her faded like an antique photograph. It browned at the edges and lost all its color until all he could see was the light where her face had been. Only the sweet smell of her remained. He reached out and tried to hold onto the memory of her. Mama.

Daryl felt the security of her warmth permeating his chest, filling him up as he breathed in her soothing sweetness. Experiencing a sense of wholeness, he wanted to stay there in her arms. A soft moan of pleasure escaped from his lips. Comfort.

He opened his eyes slowly. The garden had disappeared. He was in a darkened room that was very dimly lit. A warm, contented feeling bubbled up from within his well-rested body. He could stay here all day feeling this relaxed. Where am I? he wondered somewhat blissfully disoriented and not quite ready to fully awaken. Sluggishly, he started to move, trying to gather the warmth around him. There was a pleasant smell in the air. Earthy. He felt something soft shifting beneath his hand. Something warm. Alive. He heard the gentle sound of someone breathing.

Her.

The thought sent a jolt through Daryl, fully awakening him with a start. The storage unit, he remembered. His eyes saw her then, sleeping peacefully. Carol. He was curled around her, holding her. Don't let go. He was flooded by conflicting feelings. The shock of it all coming fully into his awareness had him quickly retreating from her. He scrambled away until his back met the wall. The sudden coldness of it startled him, causing his breath to turn rapid and shallow. Briefly immobilized as the coolness bit into him, he immediately missed her warmth.

Carol began to stir and awaken. Her movement set him in motion. Clumsily, he lunged for the door and opened it quickly. The brightness of the morning sunlight blinded him, and he stopped reflexively to cover his eyes with his arm.

"Good morning," Carol asserted as she arose, shielding her eyes from the harsh light.

He looked towards her trying to hide the confused terror on his face. She was just a darkened shadow. Daryl couldn't get a read on her expression. He acknowledged her with a nod and reached down to grab his crossbow. A lump was constricting his throat. "Mornin'," he managed to squeeze out awkwardly as he stood.

"You sleep okay?" she inquired, keeping her voice steady.

Okay? The memory of lying next to her floated up around him like a warm bubble. It had made him dream of the safest place he had ever known. Speechless, he simply nodded and gazed at her, waiting for his eyes to adjust. He wanted to see her face. Those eyes. Blue eyes like his mother's. It made him panic. Did she notice? He didn't want to find out so he walked away, hurriedly, too afraid to look back.

A short time later that morning, after receiving a lecture from Rick about safety, Carol gathered with Lori, Beth, and Maggie down at the widest part of the creek. She was excited about the prospect of bathing, even if the water was cold. They had all stripped down to their underwear as they washed themselves and their dirty clothing.

Lori was hesitant as she sat at on a flat rock, pistol at her feet, scrubbing her shirt. "It's freezing," she complained.

Maggie floated out to the deepest part of the creek. "Just pretend it's a hot tub."

Lori groaned. "Oh, don't I wish." She stood and stepped gingerly into the brisk water, tossing Carol one of the thin bars of soap they had taken from the roadside motel they stayed in earlier that week. "Hot tub, hot tub," she persuaded herself, closing her eyes.

They giggled and gossiped and lamented not having any razors. Carol took the soap and lathered herself with it.

"I just wish we had a decent conditioner," Beth complained as she eased herself into the frigid water. "My hair's gettin' so dry an' brittle."

"You and me both," Lori chimed in. "Carol's the smart one with the sensible style."

"Ha!" Carol expelled the irony from her lungs, remembering the true reason she had really short hair. "I guess there's one advantage for having this shitty haircut. My hair used to be just a little bit longer than Maggie's...until Ed gave this to me as a punishment one night shortly before all this happened. He took it off with a pair of clippers because he said I was acting too high and mighty." She explained as she washed herself.

Her body tensed as the memory of Ed pulling her by the hair into the bathroom came flooding back to her.

"Shut your fucking mouth, you stupid cunt," he had screamed at her as she yelped in pain. Annoyed by her cries, he grabbed her by her throat so she couldn't scream and brutally shoved her against the sink while he cut her hair off.

"You think you're something? You ain't nothing but a fat, ugly whore," he had reminded her as he ran those clippers over her head. "Best learn your place."

Carol shuddered as she rubbed her throat, recalling the cold rage in his eyes. She had felt lucky that she had escaped with her life that night.

"What an asshole," Maggie stated frankly, pulling Carol out of the memory.

"Yep," Carol agreed, sucking in a breath. She looked down at her hands and focused on feeling the coolness of the water on her skin as it anchored her in the present moment. She felt the self-hatred rising up. "I was an idiot for even marrying him."

Maggie gave her a sympathetic look. "Carol," she said disagreeing.

"Ed was the fool," Lori stepped in to clarify the matter.

There were a few moments of awkward silence that followed. Carol was on the verge of beating up on herself again.

"Glenn's not like that," Carol smiled at Maggie, trying to get out of her head and remove the focus from herself. "He's really sweet. I can see why you like him."

Maggie blushed. "He is. He's thoughtful. He really cares about everyone. I really like that about him. Plus, he's super cute."

Maggie laughed and splashed at Beth. The girl shrieked when the cold water splashed across her face and chest. "Maggie!" she admonished her in a lighthearted tone and then splashed back at her sister.

Carol handed the bar of soap to Beth and ran her soapy hands through her hair. She ducked her head under water and swam out to Maggie. The water felt refreshing. "I feel almost human now," she stated cheerfully.

They continued to playfully splash around after they had gotten themselves and their clothes clean. It was only after their skin started to wrinkle that they finally made their way out of the creek.

"Think the men missed us?" Lori inquired as they dried themselves off with the cheap motel towels.

"Of course they did," Maggie teased as she dressed. "What's not to miss?" She struck a coquettish pose with one hand on her hip.

They laughed heartily. For a few minutes, they forgot all about their situation and the plight of the world.

Carol was feeling invigorated as they made their way back up the hill to the storage units. T-Dog, Glenn, and Rick were gathered around the fire telling stories to Carl. They looked up when they heard them approaching.

"See, it don't matter where they go, women always take their sweet ass time in the bathroom," T-Dog explained teasingly to Carl.

Rick and Glenn laughed in agreement.

"We were just makin' ourselves beautiful," Maggie said.

"I don't think that would've taken very long," Glenn flirted, all starry-eyed, with Maggie. He smiled.

Maggie glowed as she smiled back at him. The two of them gazed longingly at each other, forgetting everyone else.

"Oh, ho, ho!" T-Dog called out laughing. "That's my boy!"

They stood around engaging in lighthearted banter as the women hung up their wet clothing around the fire to dry. Carol stood there for a few moments before wandering over to the units where she knew she'd find Daryl on watch.

Daryl was standing on top of one of the concrete buildings keeping lookout while Hershel was down below patrolling. When Hershel saw Carol approaching, he smiled.

"How's the water?" he inquired of her.

"A bit chilly, but I'm not complaining. It's the first real bath I've had in weeks, seems like."

"I know what you mean," Hershel replied. "I plan to make my way down there as soon as Maggie gets back."

"Might be a while," explained Carol. "She kind of got detained. By Glenn." She chuckled. "He seems real sweet on her."

"That he does," Hershel agreed. "He's a nice boy."

Carol nodded and then looked up at Daryl, who peered over the edge of the building at them.

"How's it look from up there?" she asked him.

"Fine. All clear," Daryl answered. "Kinda strange, ain't no stragglers come through." His face took on a puzzled look.

"We didn't see any by the creek either," said Carol, echoing the surprise.

"I'm sure it won't last," Hershel warned.

Daryl nodded. That was their reality now. Sooner or later the walkers would come. They just never knew how many it would be. Carol grabbed at her arms as she thought about being on the run again. She looked spooked. Daryl remembered what they had discussed last night by the fire. She was scared; he knew that even before she looked up at him and he could see it plain on her face. He hated that look, the way it pulled the light from her eyes. It made something tighten in his chest. Though he promised himself he'd look after her, he knew he couldn't always be there. It was right to teach her what he could so she had a chance.

"I ain't forgot," Daryl said, acknowledging Hershel's words, but speaking to Carol.

Satisfied, she nodded at him and gave Hershel an awkward smile before turning to go rummage through one of the storage units. She needed something to keep her mind busy until Daryl was free. Luckily, there were plenty of boxes to delve into. She engrossed herself in the task of searching through the unit for something useful. Something she could use to defend herself. It was sort of like cleaning house and rearranging furniture, which she would always do when she was upset. It was how she coped. It was something she could control.

As she worked, she thought about the way Daryl had torn out of the unit that morning. He couldn't get away fast enough. She didn't blame him; there wasn't a lot of space, and he wasn't used to being in close proximity to anyone. While she admitted to herself that she had felt safe last night with him sleeping beside her, she didn't want to be the reason that pushed him away. So, she figured if she cleaned this unit out for him, he could have some privacy back.

Stacking and organizing the boxes she examined, she cleared herself a path through the cluttered unit. Upon lifting some boxes towards the back, she found two fishing poles that were stashed behind them, against the wall. She pulled them out thinking Rick might like to take Carl fishing down at the creek. A few minutes later, she spotted a rust-colored tackle box sitting on a shelf and lifted it up. Inside, there were some lures and small tools. She saw something black with a metal stripe running down the middle of it. When she picked it up, she noticed there was a lever mechanism on it. As she pressed the lever, a double-edged blade shot out the top of the handle, taking her by surprise. A knife. She released the blade and put it in her pocket. Her knife.