This chapter needs a forewarning for those who are triggered by abuse, sexual situation and the possibility of non-con. There is no rape in this chapter but the events could trigger someone.

He waited till she fell asleep. There was no way he was actually letting himself get some shut eye, he just didn't trust the marauders not to come and stab him in the back to get to the prize. He felt bad for Carol, her story was still a mystery to him but he had a feeling she had gone from being prey and a scapegoat to her husband then to someone free and capable of making it out on her own in the wild then back and now she was back to being a prize.

He moved around the house and found hidden stacks of weapons. She had enough weaponry to open a shop and more, he thought, a little impressed. He had seen the fight in her eyes and all, but it was a whole other thing to discover more weapons and more ammo. She had to carry it around one way or another, meaning she was always carrying a very heavy bag. He was glad he had claimed her gear, especially when he saw how extensive it was as he figure they would need it, with the others.

There was food in quantity, enough to feed them both for a while. She made him think of a squirrel preparing for winter.

This was good, right? He did wonder if she had planned to stay around for some time or if this was just something that had happened. If she had planned to stay put, she would have been able to make do for a while. Now he supposed everything would become his, or theirs as they would be sharing the thing he would decide to bring with them... This situation they were in…

He tried to think about what would happen when they would join the others again. There would be expectations that if not met could probably get him killed and her with him. When he'd thought things couldn't get worse…

Having claimed her, he realized, was more than a move out of sympathy. It came with a price and a game he really wasn't sure he could play. He would be expected to act a part. The others would expect him to take advantage of her, otherwise they would think the claim was pointless and he'd be toast. However, how was he supposed to explain this to Carol? Furthermore, did he want to explain it to her? He was not good with words, and he didn't know how much trust he could put in her, so there were many variables and he had no control whatsoever over any of those. When he had yelled that word, he had brought himself a shitload of trouble.

Then again he could have chosen someone else to be chivalrous about and that person would not have been … Carol. He wasn't sure how to explain it, but she was still alive which spoke volume about her ability to make it on her own. He thought about the ache she must have faced when losing her daughter and the strength it had to have demanded from her to keep on moving. When he had been separated from Merle, he had needed a minute before survival instinct had kicked back in: his first impulse had been to go back for his brother.

He wondered how much he could trust Carol though. They were strangers and all he had to go on was his instinct and his guts telling him that she was worth everything that would be tossed their way, that this was the person he wanted to stand up for and rescue, if there could only be one. He tried to picture discussing the claiming issues with her and what it would entail, but he found himself embarrassed at the thought which was stupid and pointless. His shyness could get them killed so talking to her should not feel like such a feat. He hoped that she would understand some of this instinctively. He had noticed this was her way to go as was his and that she had seemed to decide to give him the benefit of the doubt. He hoped that between half spoken words and meaningful glances, they would make it work.

He found himself wondering what his life would have been like if he had stayed with Merle and the lot at the quarry. He wondered if he and Carol would have been able to exchange a couple of words. He just wondered, a guilty pleasure of his which was also a pain in the ass according to Merle. He wondered about the life not lived. When he had claimed her even though she was just this woman he had barely known for a minute or so, he had brought so much danger onto them. Some wondering felt deserved.

Yet, he didn't regret it. It was about being decent, even when the world was ending. It was about showing someone who had known the same pain he had some mercy. Now here was to hoping she saw it the same way…

He craved a smoke.

He felt more than heard her wake up; something in the air, a chill, just something weird letting him know she was not sleeping anymore. Such a weird feeling and yet…

He went back in the room where she was and without a word, he helped her get up and escorted her to the bathroom. He loosened the noose around her wrists so that she would be able to attend to what she needed to do, and gave her a look. Thankfully there was no lock on the door, so he heard her do her business and come out when she had been able to wash her hand. He tied the noose tighter again.

It was still dark outside, but first light would appear soon.

He offered her a spoon and a can of peaches in syrup, and she ate some. She was dead silent; it was chilling. She looked to be almost disappointed in herself for having fallen asleep.

"What's next?" she said.

"Fuck me if I know," he answered truthfully, and he could tell she wanted to flip him the bird.

Instead, she gave him a pointed look.

"I know you don't believe it, but I can protect you from those guys. I ain't gonna pretend I'm doing you a favor or something. An asshole would, and try to milk it, but you were caught and I just did what seemed right."

Why was he trying to explain himself to her?

"Thing is, you're going to be tied up, all day long. Be thankful we don't have shackles, otherwise those pricks would insist on putting you in some for shits and giggles and sadistic fun. But yeah, I'll need to keep your hands tied, and I'll need you to not try to escape, or to kill any of those assholes. I don't know what comes next, only know what needs to happen now. I won't enjoy it," he said and she looked at him with surprise.

Quick as a cat, he grabbed her, and planted his lips on hers. He didn't open his mouth, didn't try to French her or anything, he was on a mission. He felt her fight against him. Their eyes were staring into each other and it was the most awkward yet the most important thing he knew he would do in his life. She tried to wrestle him and she almost managed to get a knee somewhere that would send him in a world of pain, but he managed to hold her back, begging her to understand, begging her to see that he was not taking any pleasure in what he was doing. This was survival, her and his. She tried to bit him, and she clawed at his face the best way she could. As she left scratches, he told himself it would do them good and help sell their charade. The surprise she had experienced for the few seconds had gone very quickly and as he kept his lips pressed on hers he was amazed by her will to fight him and the way she didn't give up. Eyes wide open, he prayed and hoped she could see what she needed to know. He finally let go of her lips and there was a second or maybe two when she just stared at him. He could tell she was considering yelling but was also discarding it as a way to get herself in trouble with the rest of the marauders and he saw her do the math. As he let her have a breathe without forcing himself further onto her she seemed to finally read what he had desperately hoped to convey.

"Oh." Was all she said, before she sighed and went limp, or limper in his arms and in his hands.

The way she yielded even though it had been his objective made him want to throw stuff against the wall, as he realized that this was certainly not the first time she had had to go with the flow, for her own safety. He felt like shit.

But he was an honorable shit who wanted to take care of her, protect her if he could. He gave her a nod then started rubbing his face against hers, so that his beard as light as it was, would leave marks on her skin. Hurting her felt like hurting himself. He never wanted to be the abuser, yet because of those assholes…

It was unpleasant, that was for sure. He kissed her again, or pressed his lips against hers as hard as he could without hurting her, though somewhere in his head the thought registered that if her lips looked like they had been bleeding, it could work in both their favors. So he kissed her harder, thinking that he had never been more ashamed.

He was a pretty damn good kisser, fuck you very much. He had once made a girl come just from kissing her and playing with her tits. It had been surprising, but it had also been a boost to his ego, like he could make a girl come without even getting to the good part.

The most inappropriate thought popped up in his head as he reflected on his skills as a lover. He went down on girls like a pro. At least, that was what he had been told once. He hadn't had so many girlfriends but the few he had, they hadn't left because they were sexually deprived. Sex was something he did well. This was not sex, by far and felt too much like rape. He wanted to stop and just let her go but he reminded himself of the price they would both pay. If he was going to get wet, might as well go swimming, he told himself as if it would erase the shame he was feeling from hurting her. He tried not to think about her husband and the similar things he may have inflicted on her. He told himself that he was not trying to subdue her. He was good with women, for fuck's sake. He told himself so many things trying to find a way to make this less despicable…

"Just fucking bite my lip already," she told him when he let go of her lip to rub his face against hers again and in doing so, shocking him out of his thoughts. He felt … words were escaping him. He had been thinking about sex, when this was the furthest thing from what they were doing. What the fuck was wrong with him?

Biting her lip though, that was the one thing he was not willing to do surprisingly. He had to mark her, actually really claim her, or pretend he had done so, but making her bleed, that just wasn't something he could do.

He tilted her head, and sucked on the skin. He did it on the other side, and another time close to that second mark. Fake hickeys were as good a tell as any, right? And he hadn't had to hurt her.

He finally let go of her and she was shaking like a leaf, making him want to puke. He was not that man, oh God. To his disbelief, she gestured for the mirror. He took her to stand in front of it, a bit surprised at the stranger he found staring back at him, wearing his clothes. He had never been shallow but he just didn't recognize that guy anymore.

He saw something in her eyes and he hated that he could tell she was trying to distance herself from past memories, about her deadbeat husband. She actually looked at him in the mirror for what felt like a long time and he would have sworn she was telling herself that he was not whatever the asshole's name had been. He hoped she could see it, and understand it but panic was something that didn't let you lots of time to ponder and put things in perspective now did it? He looked back at her in the mirror, wanting her to see him, and not her husband. He wanted her to know that if he could have prevented this to have to take place he would have done whatever was needed. He needed her to know that this was nothing he ever would have done in a million years, apocalypse or not. He wished he had gotten the chance to know her maybe for a second longer so that she would have known that this was not the kind of man he was.

But words were not his thing so he was left with staring and hoping. He didn't touch her as she seemed to get herself under control, the shaking in her limbs slowly disappearing.

"I suppose it will do," Carol said, then she took a closer look at her face and he saw her bite down on her lip so hard it started to bleed.

He could still see tremors and sweat on her face betrayed how queasy she felt but her determination as he hurt herself left him gaping for a second. She was trying to put some distance between them, as much as they could, but her eyes looked more in control, and they seemed to tell him that she understood. Maybe he was deluding himself. Hell he was probably deluded anyway. He just wanted to erase all the memories his assault had to have brought back. He found himself hoping he could go back in time and prevent them from happening in the first place, but that was the dreamer in him and he shut him down violently. What he had done he had despised, but she had suffered it, and that was so much worse than his self-pity.

"What was that?" He found himself uttering to his surprise after she had looked back into the mirror at her appearance.

"Don't want them to think I'm a sure thing," was all she said, trying to put some of the blood on her clothes to make it look like she had really fought him.

He would for all intent be a rapist, he realized and felt sick again. He had wanted her to know why but seeing her go the extra mile to make the charade stick felt like he had gotten stabbed in the back. The others wouldn't know, they would believe. He tried to keep himself in check, telling himself that she would know, and that was all that matter.

"Mess up my hair," she directed him coldly.

He carefully lifted his hands to her hair, and did a quick thing which was more of a caress than anything and it got him a glare.

"Come on. If we'd fucked on the ground and I thrashed around resisting, my hair would be a mess. Give it a good ruffle. I don't have much hair, but they have to believe there was a fight or we've done this for nothing. We can spray blood on each other, if we look like it was all in good fun, I don't think your buddies will be so keen to believe us."

He despised the way she referred to those fuckers as his buddies, but he supposed she was right. If he had the time he would have been impressed by the way she was staging her own abuse in order to help them both.

"You're…." he started.

"Yeah?" She asked, trying to do the job with her tied hands.

"Something else."

The admiration in his eyes may have be inappropriate given the circumstances but the way she had come back from that scary place in her head where he had thrown her back to his shame, it left you filled with nothing but admiration and respect, unless you were a fucking moron.

"Thank you. I guess." she sighed, lowering her hands and just looked at him, seeing something he wasn't sure was there.

He ruffled her hair as best as he could and she nodded.

The sun was slowly making its appearance and they could hear the others start to wake up. Daryl winced as always thinking about their ways. If he could hear them, walkers could hear them, and drifters too. Had those guys no survival instinct at all or were they so sure their numbers made up for everything else they didn't do?

"You don't kill them and you stay close to me, got it?" Daryl told her, after he had gathered up both their gear.

He gave her a bag with some of the food she had piled, and he saw the chagrined look on her face when she spotted all that they were leaving behind. It was not practical, he told himself, and wondered what she had planned to do had she not be caught.

It was time to face the music.

Once again he wondered what the hell he had signed up for.

Carol's brain was on overload, trying to take it all in, rubbing her eyes as they went to make it seem like she had cried. The others would be looking for tears she thought pragmatically, yet feeling unable to produce them on her own though she didn't lack motives.

He hadn't raped her. For some reason, she had never thought he would do it in the first place, but the fact that he took measures to make the others believe he had… It spoke volumes to her, about the guy he was. She could tell he hadn't been taking pleasure in bruising her lips and leaving burns on her face. It had been all about business, and his business was apparently to keep her safe.

Such a strange man. She had gone with the flow, not because she wanted to play this charade-but because she understood it was not only her life at stake, but his too. He had said it and at first her instinct had been to call bullshit yet when the terror had faded slightly and her pragmatic mind had kicked back in, it had made sense. She had no doubt the others would be looking for any excuse to grab her back. She had seen the looks on their faces the night before, no matters how brief the encounter. It was a look she had seen way too often, on Ed's face, and his brute buddies. Yet Daryl… He was a good man. It felt so surreal to say this of a man who had just all but peed on her to assert his ownership of her but it was the truth. She had seen the despise in his eyes when he had had to molest her. She didn't like the fact that there had been no warning but by taking her by surprise he had managed to make it look like he had had his way. Who was this man? It had been over a year and a half since the quarry and it made no sense for her to feel certain about anything about him yet she was. Rick, Tyreese, Hershel, Glenn, they all had been good men, she had always been able to tell. She had had instinct sure, but she also had gotten to know them, letting her know her instinct had been right. There had been no time with Daryl yet she felt as dead certain about his goodness than she did about Hershel. It had felt like those men back at the prison had been the only good men left roaming this Earth and the marauders sure made it feel like that assessment was correct, until she took Daryl in consideration. They knew so little about one another, yet he was willing to protect her and not take advantage at all. Rick was a good man and nothing could persuade her otherwise yet he had been cunning, and part of his love and affection had had to do with the fact that she had taken care of Lori when he didn't want to acknowledge she existed. There had a silent contract between them, that she would be the mother den even to his kids if need be and in return he would keep her on his good side. When he had exiled her, she had not been surprised, the contract had been broken in his mind. Did she hate him for that? Who had time for hate anymore in a world when every day could or would be your last?

She was certain some people still had time for those feelings of hatred, but she had decided to let it go as it only hurt her away from them. Back at the prison, they had moved on and holding on to the memory of what she had had would not keep her alive. So she had let go.

Daryl though came as a wildcard for her. This whole situation was a wildcard but he stood up amongst his road companions as a decent man perhaps lost amongst people who were not worse a drop of his sweat or blood.

This whole set up, this charade, it had hurt her so much yet she found herself weirdly appeased by the knowledge that this pain had been shared. If there was a next time, more marks to add, she knew he would let her know. She almost chuckled out loud asking herself how she knew that but instinct was all she had, along with his behavior. She knew sadists, and con artists, people playing the long game. In this sad fucked up game they found themselves playing, he was the most genuine person she had met in years. It was a good surprise and it made her feel slightly safer though she was not fool enough to believe everything would be okay just because she wished it to be. Lord knew if that worked…

She didn't allow herself to think about her daughter and just got closer to Daryl. Just a night had passed since they had met again, yet he was now her only constant in this shitty world.

They left the house, taking care to lock the door behind them, and found the others were waiting on them. To say there were catcalls would be an understatement. There was some cheering, and some dirty comments, but she could see the leader's eyes on her face like he could see it was just a bit too red, a bit too fresh to be real. She hoped she was just imagining things.

"If I catch a rabbit, and give it to you," one of the guys told Daryl, "will you let me have a go with her?"

"I claimed her and I don't share," he answered, but the guy didn't seem deterred.

"You'll get bored. We can keep her busy."

"What the fuck did I say?" Daryl growled, and Carol realized she was behind him.

She wasn't sure she had gotten there or he had moved around to protect her, but the result was the same, he was in front of her, defying anybody and everybody to do anything.

"Something isn't right," Joe said. "Daryl…. I have a hard time buying what you're selling."

Carol got genuinely scared, as it seemed the leader had indeed read through their play, and she was tied up, as useless as a knife without a shaft. The screaming, she thought. There had been no screaming. They would have tried to hear it, or Joe would have as he seemed to be the only one with a brain. Fuck.

"For Fuck's Sake, I don't like an audience, what can I say?" Daryl exclaimed, and she could tell he was uneasy.

He turned to her and grabbed her suddenly and violently, and though she could have sworn she saw a flash of apology in his eyes, she was still taken by surprise when he kissed her, tongue and all, his hands groping her body in a showing fashion as he did so. It felt like he was claiming every bit of her, and even though she knew he was a good man, she felt angst and fear in her belly. She caught his eye again and saw him begging for something, but she wasn't ready to play that part. Instinct has always was taking over, and she moaned against his lips as she felt a tear roll down her cheek, followed by another.

She tried to shake him off, purely out of instinct, tried not to think about Ed and how useless he would make resisting look like. She moaned and cried out, bit his lip and when he finally let go of her, she tried to escape far away from him, but he wouldn't let her.

They shared a look which had to be short in case it was seen by one the others, but she heard the word he was projecting:

Sorry.

It didn't make anything better, and it sure as hell didn't make her stop shaking, but she was finally her way back in her own mind, and out of fear. In his eyes, she caught a hint of despise and was once again consoled by the fact that this was a pain they shared.

Fuck this man. Fuck this good man and all he had to put her through to keep her alive. Hell, fuck those goddamn fuckers instead, for making them play a game they didn't want to play.

He finally let her go, and for good measure, slapped her ass, making the guys around howl with laughter.

"Now, are we going on or what?" Daryl asked.

Joe smiled, apparently convinced this time as he had seen her struggling against her captor without making a sound, an habit due to her previous life as an abused wife. Finally the group got a move on and started walking.