The Days In The Cedar Forest

by sienna27

ZA Caryl. Pre-show with missing scenes of Carol and Daryl's first days together at the camp, through season one. Mix of known canon events & A/U twists. Friendship to start, short game to romantic involvement.

7. No Winners Here

Author's Note: If you like Merle, we have some Merle bits. There's actually a little bit of everything and almost everybody because things are hitting the fan. To that end, there is some notable, 'nose scrunching' violence here of the 'uck' nature. You have been warned ;) And there is a pic of Ed up with the Tumblr post. He really has a face you want to punch :)

Picking up a few hours later.

---

Day 6

No Winners Here

Carol blinked . . . and then blinked again.

Part of her brain was trying to come up out of the depths, and the rest of her just wanted to stay down in the deep. But then she heard a faint murmur cutting into her groggy state.

"Peach, come on, you gotta wake up now."

Daryl.

Of course. That's why that part of her brain was trying to wake up . . . he'd been calling to her. So she blinked for a third time, and the third time was the charm. Because she was able to get her eyes to stay open long enough to tip her head back.

"Hi," she croaked out with another heavy flutter of her lashes, trying to focus in on Daryl's face. Though with the tent so shadowy, even though he was barely six inches away, all she could see was the bare outline.

He did clearly look exhausted though.

"Hey," he murmured back then with a faint quirk of his lip, "I'm sorry, Carol, but we gotta get up." He patted her hip as he started shifting them around, "I got guard duty in ten."

"Oh," she yawned with the back of her hand half over her mouth, "right, right. Guard duty."

It wasn't like she'd forgotten, but GOD, how she wished that they'd been able to get more than three hours of sleep! Because her twenty minutes or so of being knocked unconscious pre two hour beating, sure as hell didn't count as a NAP!

So she tried to push herself up, to get moving like they needed to be moving, but of course Daryl had already shifted back into this new "paladin" mode. And even though she had known that he was a kind man starting from that first day in the woods with the fennel, she still could never have guessed from that, or even those first couple of days that followed, just how protective and truly gentle he really could be. The gruff, grumbly thing really threw you off. Because the way he was with her now, meant that she really didn't have to do anything at all.

Literally, nothing.

The second she put her hand down on the sleeping bag to try and brace herself, he slipped one arm around her waist, and the other around her shoulders, and started to pull her up with him. Which was probably for the best, because even with him doing all of the work there, (and standing now had indeed become 'work') she still couldn't help the moan that she let out when they came to their feet. Of course Daryl immediately froze.

"I'm sorry, baby," he bit out on a stressed whisper while trying to shift his hold, "am I hurtin' you?"

"No, no," she murmured back, "it's not you. It's all him. I feel like I got run over by a semi," she dropped her head to Daryl's chest and closed her eyes, continuing on a mumble, "and then dragged for a mile off the rear bumper. But," she tipped her head back to give him a ghost of a smile . . . it still made her jaw hurt, "I'm still sure it's nothing too serious."

"Hmm," he hummed back on a slow nod, "all right. But don't forget what I said earlier, if you feel like there's anything going on that I need to know, you don't keep it to yourself. 'Cuz I'm gettin' kind of attached here, so if you up and die on me," his voice started to get husky, "I'm gonna pretty fuckin' upset."

Feeling her eyes start to burn, Carol slid her hands down from Daryl's chest, so she could slip her arms around his waist instead. Her intent was to give him the tightest hug that she could manage under the circumstances.

Circumstances being that she had zero physical strength at the moment.

So no, the hug wasn't much. It did seem to make him feel better though, because she could feel how his breathing evened out again. And when that happened, she felt the arm that he had wrapped around her shoulders, tighten just for a second. All it was, was a tiny squeeze, but she knew that was him acknowledging his thanks for what she'd done.

For letting him drop his guard for just a moment.

Then he murmured, "all right, hold here for a second, Peach," just before he let her go with a rub to the hip. And she could see that he had stepped away, so he could lean over and snag up his knives and gun from where he'd laid them out next to his pillow. And even though she wouldn't say it out loud, Carol was finding that it was actually VERY difficult to keep herself upright without any support from him. It was bad enough, that she could feel her legs begin to tremble as she watched him clip his weapons on again. And then when he moved over to pull on his boots, she had to just focus on her breathing, the small shallow, in and out breaths, to keep herself from crumpling back down to the sleeping bag.

Still, she refused to say anything.

It was too ridiculous a thing to accept, that she couldn't stand up on her own for barely forty seconds and counting. Fortunately though, Daryl threw her a glance just then. And he seemed to notice that she wasn't doing so well, because he muttered an, "ah shit, hold on, Peach," right when he was tossing his bow and quiver up on his shoulder.

That was a split second before she started to fold up like an accordion.

He caught her just before she hit the tent floor.

"I swear to you Carol," he started growling in her ear as he hoisted her up into his arms, "that man is gonna be prayin' for death by the time I'm done with him."

Her eyes started to sting again at that, but all she managed for a response was a groan, while she slumped against his chest. That's when her head started to spin, so she closed her eyes, and began counting down from twenty, trying to will away the nausea that was rising up.

Meanwhile, she could feel Daryl moving them around, just before he stooped down to pick something else up.

Her sneakers.

Carol realized that when she felt them being pressed into her hands.

"Just hold onto 'em, Peach." He murmured while hoisting her back up a little higher, "I know you're not up for walkin' now, but I don't like the idea of you being anywhere without your stuff."

"I'm sure I'll be up and around by breakfast," she breathed against his throat, "I just need to get a little more sleep, is all."

Really, all the beatings she'd taken over the years, no matter how bad they were, she'd always gotten up the next morning right on time. Because staying in bed was not an option. Not when Ed would be waiting on his breakfast, and Sophia needed to be fed and sent off to school. A person could do anything with the proper motivation. And for the last ten years she'd been crawling out of that bed half out of fear, half out of love. But all she got back from Daryl for the idea that she'd have no problems getting up in a few hours, was a grunt. Which Carol had already learned meant that he neither agreed, nor disagreed on the topic in question, but at that moment didn't wish to discuss it either way.

Yeah, the man could put a lot into one syllable.

So in the still, pre-dawn hour, he ducked down to take them through the open tent flap, and then he carried her bruised and aching body, out into the cool night air.

It was pretty easy to see with the moonlight.

From there, it was a short walk through the dewy grass past Jim and T-Dog's tents, and then more grass, and an open patch of dirt, before they finally reached the canvas hut that Lori and Carl shared with Shane.

How the three of them had come together by circumstance, and had started to form into a small, de-facto family, was a point that Carol was strangely starting to understand much better today, than she had yesterday. Because she could see now, in how she'd so quickly become attached to Daryl . . . and the care that he'd already shown her and Sophia in return . . . that sometimes people fell together at times, and for reasons, that they never would have expected.

Let alone ever planned.

And when they reached that zippered red flap of a door, with her still in his arms, Daryl stooped down to a crouch and let out a faint bird like wakeup call. A split second later it was an even softer, "psst, Shane, it's Daryl. Open up." Then he gave it a three count, and right before it seemed like another "psst" would be necessary, there was a faint rustling from inside.

Then the zipper started going up.

The first thing Carol saw in that muted moonlight was Shane's rifle, and then the second thing she saw was his half asleep face.

"What's wro . . .?"

He didn't even get the whole question out, before he seemed to suddenly focus in on her face . . . which at her height on Daryl's knee . . . was directly in front of his.

And then.

"Holy shit, Carol!" he hissed in horror, "what in the hell?!" And then his eyes suddenly widened and snapped over to Daryl's.

"Ed?" He bit out, now with a clear ratcheting of anger in his tone. Of course it was no match for the tone that came back from Daryl, who growled out, "piss bucket motherfuckin' piece of shit, beat her black and blue."

Before Shane could respond, Carol heard more rustling, right before the flap was pulled up on the other side. And then Lori was inching Shane over. She was yawning out a, "what's going . . .?" when again, the question fell away. And again, Carol saw an occupant of that tent suck in a breath, right before the sleep cleared from their faces, and their eyes flashed red.

"That bastard," she cursed.

And then just like with Shane, Lori's attention snapped away from Carol's injuries and over to the man holding her.

"Daryl Dixon if you don't handle this today," she hissed, "I swear to God I'm taking one of the guns and I'll go deal with it myself!"

The way she yelled at him, that was the moment when Carol realized those two had talked about what to do about Ed before. That they'd been trying to find a way to save her . . . her eyes started to burn . . . before she was even ready to save herself.

"All right," Daryl grunted back to Lori, "just calm yourself woman. I already talked to Merle, and we're takin' care of it first thing. Probably around seven or so. It shouldn't take long, but for what we got planned for him, it's gonna be a mess. 'Cuz um . . ."

Then his eyes suddenly darted over to over to Carol.

"You wanna tell 'em what he did, Peach?" He asked softly, "or you want me to do it?"

Realizing then that Daryl was trying to let her take back some control of her fate . . . the bruises on her body could no longer be hidden, but it was her choice to tell the story of how she got them as she saw fit . . . Carol gave his fingers a hard squeeze from where they were resting on her hip. Then, with her eyes watering, she looked back over to Lori.

"Ed tried to rape Sophia."

Her voice cracked when she said it, just like it had when she'd told Merle. But each time she voiced those terrible words out loud, Carol found her heart breaking all over again. Because she still hadn't fully processed that her husband had gone that far.

That he was truly that evil.

And after she spoke, Carol could see both Shane and Lori wince and look down. And then Shane's jaw was twitching, and Lori's eyes were filling with tears.

She reached over to touch Carol's knee.

"How far did he get?" She whispered, with her own crackle in her voice. And feeling her eyes begin to burn, Carol started to gnaw on her swollen lip.

"Far enough for her to know what he was about to do," she sniffled, "but I got there before he got her shorts off."

Carol's voice broke there at the end. And then Lori was stepping out there in her nightgown, and when she reached down to take her hands, Daryl was helping her stand up there in the wet grass.

Then Lori was pulling her into a hug.

"I'm so sorry, hon," she murmured with a squeeze so tight that it made Carol's eyes water. But before she could she could say anything back like "PLEASE GOD DON'T DO THAT!" she heard Daryl bark, "hey, you need to go easy there, woman! She's covered in fresh bruises, back and front."

Of course Lori immediately jumped back then, murmuring, "oh God I'm sorry." Then she let her hands slide down to loosely grasp Carol's forearms as she gave her a very frightened once over. And while she was doing that, Daryl continued on by bringing his hand up.

He pointed to her side.

"He did the worst damage on her left," he continued softly, "so you gotta make sure she's extra careful with her ribs on that side, 'cuz she's got a hell of a bruise coming up. Her kidneys are kind of a mess too though, and her stomach, and she did cough up a little blood but uh," his worried eyes shot back over to lock onto Carol's as he finished tightly, "we're pretty sure now that was just some you swallowed down from the nose, right Peach?"

"Yep," she reached back to snag his fingers . . . partly as a thank you for how sweet and protective he was being, partly because she still needed some additional bracing to keep steady, "right. We're pretty sure." Then she looked back to Lori . . . who now looked even more horrified than before.

"I'll be all right," she whispered to the other woman with a nod, "I've taken worse than this."

Lori's jaw twisted then as one of those tears that had been pooling in her eyes, began to slide down her cheek.

"I am so sorry this happened, hon," she bit her lip, "I knew something was wrong when you came here, so I should have insisted that you stay with us."

"No," Carol shook her head as she sniffled again, "it wouldn't have mattered what you'd said. I'd needed to go back for my own reasons. You wouldn't have been able to talk me out of it."

They were all quiet for a second, and then Daryl let out a slow tight breath, right before he turned back to Shane who was standing behind Lori.

There was a hard edge on Daryl's tone when he spoke.

"I got guard duty 'til six, so I need your word you're gonna keep her and Sophia safe until I'm free, or I'm just carrying 'em up on the roof with me."

Shane was already shaking his head before Daryl had finished speaking.

"That asshole isn't getting anywhere near them," he growled back, "don't worry about that. And once the sun's up we'll stash them in the RV until everything else gets uh," he jerked his head, "sorted."

"Sorted my ass!" Daryl snarled, "I'm gonna cut off his balls, and then break every fuckin' bone in that motherfucker's body!"

That time Shane just shrugged.

"Whatever you want to do him man," his lips pursed, "you got no argument from me. And I don't think anybody else will give you any shit either, not once they know what he did, but," he nodded, "I'll speak up if anyone starts out on the wrong side of this."

For a second Daryl just stared over at this cop who he'd been buttin' heads with from day one. Nine days in and apparently they'd finally found a topic with some common ground. He bit back a sigh.

If only Carol and Sophia hadn't had to suffer so, to push 'em over the top.

Speaking of Carol though, before he made the move to leave, Daryl reached over to slide his arm back around her waist again. Then he walked her over a few steps towards the back end of Lori and Shane's tent. And when Carol turned around, and her hands came up to settle on his chest, he shot the other couple a quick scowl, because he could God damn well see that they were starin' at 'em. Like it was inconfuckinceivable that he might actually be capable of regular people stuff like havin' a lady friend!

Jackasses!

So he waited until they'd both looked away . . . Lori took longer to do it of course, because women tended to be snoopy about things that did not concern them . . . but then finally the other two started whispering to each other. And that's when Daryl turned back to Carol where his expression immediately softened, just as he wrapped her up in a very loose hug.

Then he leaned down to press his lips to her ear.

"You get some more rest, baby," he whispered with a very slow exhale and a pat to her hip, "and I promise you that this'll all be over before the sun's full up."

All he got back from Carol for that promise, was a faint hum as she pressed her cheek a little tighter against his throat. And he knew she was scared, and she was hurtin,' and not just in a physical way. And even though Daryl did trust she'd be safe stayin' there with Shane and Lori, he really hated so much that he had to leave her at all. But he'd already told T-Dog he'd cover this shift, so that's what he had to do. Course if he'd known how his evenin' was gonna GO, he woulda just said they'd break even tomorrow. But . . . he took a deep breath . . . sometimes shit happens you don't plan for.

And you just gotta deal.

Still, he didn't wanna just leave Carol in the state that she was, 'cuz he knew she'd never fall back to sleep. So he tipped his head to the side, thinking for a second, just before his lips pressed together.

He'd got an idea.

"I got something for ya," he murmured then while taking his hand off of Carol's hip, to reach over to his belt.

"What?" Carol whispered back, trying to see in the shadows what it was that Daryl was fussing with. It took a second, but then he brought his arm back up again, and he held the object out right in front of her face. That's when she could see it clearly.

It was one of his hunting knives.

One of the big ones.

"Okay," he continued quietly, while sliding the sheath back so she could see the blade, "this is yours now, Peach. And when you're feelin' better I'll show you all the ways to use it proper, but for now just remember," he gave her a look, "if something comes at ya, it don't matter if it's living or dead, just hold tight to the handle, and you jam this into its eyeball, hard as you can," he made a stabbing motion off to the side, "pointy side first. And this blade goes through eyeballs like butter," he balanced it out on the palm of his hand, "so you don't gotta be strong to make it work."

For a second Carol just stared down at the knife, somewhat transfixed. Because she'd never had any means of defending herself before. She would've felt foolish even thinking that she could defend herself. But as she slowly reached out to take the leather wrapped blade from Daryl's hand, she didn't feel foolish at all. Because she knew that this was a man who took his weapons seriously. And if he was giving one of them to her for protection, it was because he believed that she could use it.

He believed in her.

So she let out a slow breath before she tipped her head back to give him a grateful smile.

"Thank you."

"No need for that," Daryl quickly brushed off the praise with a faint scowl, "I just want you to be safe, and I figure if you got something to defend yourself, it might help you sleep a little better."

"It will," her brow scrunched as she gave him a sharp nod, "it definitely will."

"All right then," he let out a heavy sigh as he slipped his hand into his pocket to pull out the four extra Vicodin he'd swiped from Merle, "so in case you need another, I'm gonna give you these now too." He reached over and slipped his hand into her front pants pocket to drop the pills in, "and um," he pulled his hand back with a slight scrunch of his brow, "stick to halves if you can, to make 'em last, because I don't think I can grab anymore without him noticing. But that knife," he looked down to the blade in Carol's hand, "it'll cut them up good, but maybe let Shane do it if you need one before I get back, because you want to make a hard chop, so it don't powder up on you."

"Okay," Carol bit her lip, "thanks. But I think I'll try and hold off until at least nine if I can, so," she gave him a shy smile, "I'll wait for you."

His lip quirked up.

"Okay," he whispered just before he shot a look off towards the RV, "and now I gotta get going," his eyes snapped back to hers, "or I'm gonna owe Glenn some time too."

So with that, he slipped his arm back around Carol's waist, and walked them over to where Shane and Lori were still whisperin' by the tent door. And given how those two immediately shut up when they got there, Daryl had to figure he and Carol were the topic of the conversation. Not that he cared. Maybe tomorrow he would, but not tonight.

There was too much else on his mind.

Though when Lori started to reach out to take Carol's arm. . . because it was clear to anyone with working eyeballs that she still wasn't steady on her feet . . . Daryl held on for a second.

He gave the other woman a look.

"You make sure she don't try to help with none of the chores today," he said seriously, "she just needs to rest."

And knowing Carol was giving him her own look for sayin' that, his eyes snapped back over to hers.

"Sorry, Peach," he continued in a softer tone, "I ain't trying to mind your business for ya, 'cuz I know you already had enough of a man doin' that. But," he brought his hand up to ghost over her bruised cheek, "you got bruises on top of bruises Carol, and you need to give yourself at least a day to heal up some, or you're gonna be in a real bad way."

Though Carol wanted to argue, she realized then that she had no real argument to make. Not when she was in the process of being passed over from Daryl to Lori, because she was literally unable to keep a steady footing all by herself.

So though it did hurt her pride a little to know that she really wasn't well enough to pitch in, she still managed to conjure up a faint smile for Daryl. And that was because he cared enough just to want her to be well.

It'd been so many years since she'd had that.

"I'll let somebody else make the coffee today," she whispered over to him. And he shot her a wink then, right before he brushed his thumb over her (uninjured) cheek.

"See ya in a bit."

Then his arm slipped off her waist, and while he was shifting his bow around on his shoulder, he started off towards the RV. For a second she just watched him go, but then she felt Lori give a light tug on her forearm.

Carol's eyes snapped up to hers.

"Come on," the younger woman whispered while moving to slide her arm up and around her shoulders, "let's get some sleep."

"Right," Carol swallowed, "sleep."

So with Shane holding the tent flap up for them, Lori helped her through the canvas doorway.

When they stepped inside, Carol could see that there was a small flashlight flicked on, and lying out on the floor by the door. It threw just enough light along by their feet, to see the layout of the tent. And in front of her, Carol could see from the pillows, and the arrangement of children still soundly sleeping on them, that for bedtime, Lori and Shane had put the kids in between them, with the adults on either end. And even in shadows Carol could see her daughter curled up in a little ball on what looked to be Lori's side of the oversized bedroll.

Though Sophia's face was actually directed towards Carl on her other side.

The children's bodies were just a few inches apart. A tear slid down Carol's cheek . . . and they were holding hands in their sleep.

"I laid down there and held her until she'd cried herself out," Lori whispered then, her voice breaking a bit, "I wish I'd known what had happened because maybe I could've thought of something to say. But Carl," she sniffled as she looked down at the two children curled together, with just that tiny gap between them, "he was so sweet. When he saw that she couldn't stop crying, he laid down there on the blankets next to us, and after maybe a minute he reached over and took her hand. That was the first time I felt her breath catch, so I think it made her feel better."

Feeling her heart ache at the thought of that sweet little boy comforting her daughter, Carol turned to give Lori a grateful nod. Her eyes were watering.

"Thank you for raising a good boy," She whispered with a teary, pain filled, smile.

And while she was putting put her arm out to help Carol towards Sophia's other side, Lori gave a slow nod.

"A lot of that's his father," she murmured sadly, "he was a good man." Then she added a bit hesitantly, "it seems like you might be getting one of those yourself now."

Feeling her cheeks start to get a bit warm, because she knew that Shane could hear them talking . . . he was zipping up the door of the tent . . . Carol's hand instinctively tightened around the knife that Daryl had given to her.

So it wasn't until Lori had helped her down to the sleeping bag, that she turned her head, and whispered back, very faintly, "he's been amazing."

Lori huffed a bit at that as she lowered herself down to the last edge of the quilted material.

"Yeah," she hummed, "he's got some rough edges on him but," she bit her lip, "these last couple of days, that man's definitely shown he's got a really good heart buried in there."

Knowing that she'd start to cry if she focused in too much on that, on him, Carol just breathed out a, "yeah, he does." Then she slowly, and VERY painfully, shifted around so that she could curl up behind Sophia.

She tucked the still sheathed knife down in between them.

Once everyone was all settled in, and Shane had turned the small flashlight off, Lori leaned over to press her lips to Carol's ear.

"Why does he call you Peach?'

Carol bit her lip for a second, not sure if she should say. If maybe Daryl would think that was private. But then she figured if he was going to call her that in front of other people . . . which he had, hence the question . . . then he couldn't really be considering it a big secret or anything.

Besides . . . she took in a small breath . . . it was a nice thing. And maybe if Lori knew why he called her that, then she'd see how gentle he was.

She'd see him how Carol saw him.

So she turned her head to shoot her friend a shy smile . . . she could just barely make her out in the shadows.

"He said it's because he thinks I'm sweet," she whispered happily, "like a Georgia peach."

Lori blinked and bit her lip.

"That's actually really romantic," she huffed back in surprise. Then she rolled over muttering to herself, "Daryl Dixon, closet romantic." She shook her head.

"Never saw that coming."

/*/*/*/*/

Things with Ed did not go according to Daryl's plan.

Because the plan, in Daryl's head anyhow, was to finish his walker shift at six when Morales came on board, grab a cup of coffee from whoever had made it by then, go back to Lori's tent and collect Carol and Sophia, then bring those two back on up to the RV, to get them locked inside with Dale and his Remington. And he was expecting by that point, it'd be coming up on round about six-thirty and that would be late enough to grab up Merle . . . asshole could just go back to bed afterwards if he wanted to . . . and then go drag the still sleepin' Ed ('cuz word was, Ed never showed his face before eight am) up and outta his tent, by the scruff of his greasy, scuzzball, wife beatin', baby rapin', neck. So yeah, the plan was pretty simple.

It still got seriously fucked up.

'Cuz what happened instead, was that Daryl finished his shift on the roof at six when Morales came on board. Then he stopped to grab that cup of coffee from the pot Jacqui had just made. And then, with it bein' about quarter after the hour, on his way back to Lori's tent to collect Carol and Sophia . . . he got jumped walking by T-Dog and Jim's tents.

By Ed.

Yeah, that motherfucker woke up EARLY! And apparently noting how his wife was missing, and putting somethin' and somethin' together . . . he'd figured that Daryl Dixon mighta had something to do with that disappearance. Apparently he did have some workin' brain cells in there.

Nobody saw that comin.'

But either way, that was how Daryl ended up lyin' flat out on the ground, on his back, about halfway between his tent and Lori's, with a lump on his forehead, Ed's thirty eight jammed into his belly . . . his own gun had been ripped off his belt and thrown over his head . . . and Ed's nasty fuckin' breath blowin' in his face. Seriously how the hell Carol put up with that shit, he did not know.

That breath alone shoulda been just cause to kill him years ago.

So he'd just had about a minute of gaggin' on that shit, while Ed screamed loud enough to wake the dead, about, "that bitch!" and "where was he hiding her?!" and Daryl's rage was just spiking higher and higher. His whole body was practically vibratin' he was so much in a fury. And he was just about ready to buck up, flip Ed over on his ass, yank that pistol outta his hand and beat him within an inch of his sorry ass life with it, when suddenly he heard a very particular sound come from behind him.

It was the sound of a shotgun being cocked.

"Mornin' motherfucker," Merle growled as he pressed the barrel directly against Ed's greasy forehead.

Apparently he'd heard the ruckus.

Most likely EVERYONE had heard the ruckus, but Jesus, the look that came over Ed's face then, damn, Daryl really wished that cameras were still a thing. So while that asshole was still hunched over, frozen half on top of him, Daryl reached out and plucked the pistol out of his hand.

Then he bashed him across the side of the head with it.

Plan back on track.

And when Ed slumped back on his haunches, blood dripping down his face now from the gash on his temple, Daryl hit him with the pistol again.

That time across the jaw.

Again, blood started pouring . . . that time from his cut lip. And when Ed tried to bring his hands up to defend himself, that's when Daryl . . . who was still on the ground himself . . . pulled his leg back, brought his boot up, and kicked him in the face. Ed's nose shattered.

Gore splattered out everywhere from that one.

And when Ed fell down to the ground, coverin' his head and hollerin', "DON'T HIT ME! DON'T HIT ME!" like a little bitch, Daryl pushed himself to his feet and jammed that gun into his back waistband. His breath was coming hard and fast like a locomotive on a train. Not that he was winded from taking those few blows that he had, it was the adrenaline.

And that rage.

That rage especially was still building. Because this pathetic pantywaist, motherfucker couldn't even take THREE hits without curling up like a baby! And then you had Carol who was still WALKING last night after two HOURS of this shit!

Daryl's eyes were practically shooting sparks when they snapped over to Merle's.

"Can you believe this candy ass BITCH?" He snarled.

"Seriously man," Merle tipped his head, staring down at Ed with a mixture of confusion and disgust, "Daddy gave me worse that Christmas mornin' when I asked why Santa didn't leave nothin' under the tree but a carton of smokes."

Then with a grunt, he reached down to grab Ed by the back of his hair.

"I was eight years old then," he continued with a hiss, "and I never cried once gettin' my face bashed in. But," he dropped his boot down on Ed's throat with a sneer, "not sure what else we shoulda expected from a baby raper like yourself.

Then he made a kissy face at Ed, right before he leaned down close to whisper in his ear.

"Your ass is ours now, sweetheart."

And when Ed's eyes popped wide with a whole new level of fear and horror . . . by Daryl's estimate that idiot was clearly picturin' some Deliverance type shit was gonna happen, and Daryl was happy to let him run wild with that one . . . Daryl jerked his head off to the left.

"We can't do the rest right here," he muttered to Merle, "Sophia's too close. It'll scare her."

As it was, they'd already drawn a full crowd. Everybody was up, half dressed in their jammies, keeping their distance but still close enough to see the show. And when Daryl dared to spare a look down towards Lori's tent about twelve paces off, he could see Shane standing outside, with his arms crossed at his chest, holding his Glock.

Behind him the tent was sealed up tight.

And as Daryl's eyes made contact with the cop, who in this ONE area he could at least call an ally, the other man gave him a sharp nod. It was clearly a 'go for it' move. And that was just as Merle let out a grunt of, "we'll take him behind the RV."

So with that, his brother dragged the already bloodied and sniveling Ed up to his feet. And with his shotgun jammed into the side of his throat, and his finger still on the trigger . . . it'd be nice if Merle tripped . . . he started frog marchin' that asshole across the camp.

And after Daryl had slipped his currently unneeded bow and quiver down off his shoulder and dropped them next to T-Dog's tent . . . he'd pick 'em up later . . . he trailed on after the other two.

He just followed the drops of blood.

It was as he was cutting around the fire pit where the Harrison sisters were huddled together with Dale, that Daryl saw he was gettin' some serious looks. So he threw back one of his own.

"You people got somethin' to say?"

For a second they all just stared up at him, their eyes wide as saucers. And then Dale looked over at Ed . who was just about to disappear behind the RV with Merle . . . just before his eyes snapped back up to Daryl's.

"Was what Merle said over there, true," he hissed in disbelief, "did Ed really rape one of the children?!"

"He tried to last night with Sophia," Daryl answered quietly, his eyes locked onto the other man's, watching as they widened in horror, "Carol stopped it, and then he beat her within an inch of her life. So," his jaw twisted, "Ed's got a reckoning comin' for him."

His eyebrow twitched as his attention snapped over to Andrea, to see what she had to say now. 'Cuz she ALWAYS had something to say about everything.

"You got a problem with our plan here, lawyer lady?" He asked sarcastically, just daring her to set him off. But she surprised him with the emotions he could see swirlin' on her face . . . anger and disbelief.

And sadness.

Then, with her eyes locked onto his, she slowly shook her head.

"I have no problem with that plan," she waved her hand, "have at it." Then her eyes started to water as she turned away, scrubbing at her jaw.

"We should've done something about him before," she murmured to herself, "this is on all of us."

And with a teary Amy at her side, murmuring, "that poor baby," the Harrison sisters turned and walked off together towards the field.

"Are you gonna beat him to death, son?"

Dale again.

Daryl slowly dragged his eyes away from the two blondes with their heads together, to look back at the older man.

"No," his jaw clenched as his attention shifted up and over to the trailer where he could hear Ed squealing just beyond . . . Merle was up to something, "we're gonna stop a little before that. Then we'll let God sort the rest."

"Can I help?"

That time it was Glenn who had just popped up behind him. And Daryl spun around to look over in disbelief.

"What'd you think YOU'RE gonna help with?!" He shot back with a scowl.

"Whatever you're doing to him," Glenn answered with a quiet fury, "I'd like to help. I like Sophia, and I don't like assholes who mess with little kids."

And though Daryl had been ready to tell that kid to just get out of his face with that bullshit . . . like he could take on ED, fucker was three times his size(!) . . . seeing how serious Glen was, and how angry he was, Daryl found his tone softening instead.

"Short Round," he leaned in and poked him in the chest, "trust me when I say, you do not want any part of this if you have plans for sleepin' anytime soon."

When Glenn's jaw started to drop . . . he was about to make an argument . . . Daryl gave him a hard look.

"You don't know what we're gonna do to him," his jaw twisted as his voice deepened "it's not just a beat down. This is old school, eye for an eye for what he did. So," Daryl waved his hand, "you wanna help, you dig me a hole for the cleanup."

Glenn blinked.

"A hole? But I thought you weren't going to kill him?"

It was clear that Glenn didn't know what he was talking about in terms of "eye for an eye," but before Daryl could explain, Dale cut in.

"They're gonna castrate him, son," he said quietly, "just make the hole big enough for what they take off."

"Oh shit," the younger man sputtered then as his hand dropped down to cover his crotch, "oh yeah, I don't know if I could do that."

"Didn't think so," Daryl muttered back, before bringing his hands up to start gesturing, "so just dig the hole. Make it about two foot deep and a foot wide. Won't have but a couple small things to put in it, but we don't want the animals digging 'em up."

Apparently Glenn was picturing that happening, because he'd started to turn a bit green, when suddenly a sharp scream came out from behind the RV. That was followed immediately by a panicked, "NO, NO, NO, NO, NO!" and Daryl's jaw clenched.

"That's my cue."

His last words came out on a growl. And with that, and his teeth digging into his lip, he took a deep breath, and started up the hill on a jog.

As he came around the front end of the trailer, again he could hear Ed's not so quiet sobbing, and Daryl still felt nothing but that rage. Rage that this man existed, and rage that he had done those horrible things to his wife and child. And rage that with the world over, and all the law gone away, that cleaning up messes like this had fallen to men like him and his brother.

The only ones here willing to do these terrible things.

And as he came up around the corner, with his hands curling into fists, he could see the specific source now of Ed's screaming. Merle had been playing barber shop with his hunting knife.

There were tiny little nicks all along the soft underside of that gorilla like jaw.

Little did Ed know though, Merle was a master at barber shop. He'd learned it from daddy, who used to get drunk and practice on his boys. And they all knew just where, and how deep, to make those cuts, to cause the most panic, and the least actual damage.

It was a Dixon family skill.

And when Daryl's eyes made contact with Merle's over the head of the bloodied, COMPLETELY panic stricken man, his brother gave him a wicked grin.

"This was a nice way to spend an hour," he said with a shake of his knife . . . bloody droplets flew onto the grass, "thank you for the invitation."

"Yeah," Daryl gave him a sharp nod, "no problem. So whaddya been up to?"

"Well," Merle tapped the blade against Ed's carotid, "while you was pussyfooting around down there, we had us a game of barber shop, and before that," he jerked his chin down to Ed's severely mangled hands.

"We broke some fingers," he looked up with a smirk, "all of 'em."

"Hmm," Daryl grunted, "so that was the squealin'."

Then he walked up and stooped down in front of Ed. He tipped his head to the side.

"You sounded like a little piggy squealing," he continued on with a scrunch of his nose, "ain't never heard a man make that sound," his lip quirked up then in a cold smile, "'cept when he was making new friends in the prison shower."

Seeing Ed's eyes widen as his breath quickened . . . there were bloody snot bubbles popping out of his nose . . . Daryl knew he'd put that "Deliverance" thought back in his head again. And that was the point of the comment.

To fuck with his head.

Now it was time to get down to business. So Daryl rolled his neck.

"Okay, so," he let out a hard breath, "you're a sick motherfucker and that's why we're here. And you've probably done more shit than we'll ever know about, but for what's happenin' to you today," he shot him a disgusted look, "it's for what you done to your family. And you can consider everything we do to you here, comin' direct from your wife. This is a new world divorce. She's done with you now."

"That bitch doesn't get to be done with me!" Ed growled back, "I'm gonna fucking KILL . . ."

And that's when Daryl's fist shot out and clocked him in the forehead . . . Ed's head snapped back like a Pez dispenser, and in the process Merle ended up slashing his cheek open with his bowie knife. Of course, like the pussy he was, Ed screamed again at that.

Like it wasn't his own damn fault for moving.

"And so you know before we really get started here," Daryl continued on like he hadn't been interrupted, "Carol's mine now. We've actually been screwin' all week."

Seeing Ed's eyes widen with shock, Daryl smiled. Another real cold one.

"Yeah, I thought you should know. And that little mole on her left hip," he nodded appreciatively, "I really like that. And what she really likes, is gettin' to ride a real dick again. She said yours was kinda," Daryl's nose wrinkled, "limp and skinny. Sorta like a Twizzler"

Merle let out a fresh cackle at that. Ed though, a fury came into his eyes then, a blackness, and Daryl understood what Carol had meant about the evil that would come out in him when he was pushed far enough. And thinking about how terrifyin' that must've been for her, living with this man, and seeing that look on his face when he came after her, it just made him feel sick. So he decided he was done with the mental games. Besides he'd done all the damage he needed to do there, because it was fuckin' KILLING Ed right now thinking he'd been with his wife, and they'd talked about his little dick.

And him goin' crazy on that, would be the last real thought in his head.

So while Ed was still staring daggers up at him, Daryl slowly came up to his feet. And before Ed knew what was happening, Daryl'd brought his boot back . . . and he kicked that asshole in the jaw, hard as he could. And he could kick pretty fuckin' hard, 'cuz that jaw BROKE. Literally, a whole mess of teeth went flying off into the grass, and the jaw itself was fuckin' hanging there half off his face on one side.

Like his face was a mask that was just put on crooked.

The sound that Ed made then, it was like a half gasp, half screech as he brought his broken hands up to his face . . . his fingers just dangled though.

So at that point he was huddled over, with tears and snot running down and mixing in with the blood that was already just everywhere. And even with that mangled jaw he started tryin' to plead for his life. Like Daryl wanted his life.

What he wanted was his sufferin'.

And was gonna get that in spades. Because his only response to those pleas for mercy, was to gesture over to Merle.

"Bitch ain't near to broke yet."

So with his brother pinning him down, and cackling the whole time, Daryl started pounding on Carol's husband like he was a weight bag in the gym. First thing he did was go for the ribs, breaking one after another, feelin' those hard bones crackin' under his fists as Ed squirmed and screamed. Though it was kind of a muffled scream, what with the jaw half hanging off and all.

But it was around the time he'd finished breaking those rib bones, that Daryl's hands started hurtin' . . . he really shoulda wrapped 'em up first . . . so he moved on to the stompin'. A few kicks to the chest to leave some good internal damage there, then he had Merle roll him over, so Daryl could take special care with Ed's kidneys. And he did that because Ed had so often, taken special care with Carol's.

That's where Ed blacked out for a few seconds.

They waited 'til he woke up to continue on, because there was no point in any of it, if he didn't feel every hit comin' in. But Daryl was gettin' a little winded . . . it was awkward doin' all this shit on the ground . . . so he let Merle step in then, because Merle had a few special things he liked to do.

One of 'em was kneecaps.

Yeah, his brother did love to kneecap a fella, so Daryl gladly let him handle that part. Because he'd seen him do it before when he was collecting on drug debts, and it was always a horrible crackin' sound. Like breaking a turtle's shell. For this time, Merle did it with a big rock instead of his old world baseball bat. It didn't matter though how it was done, all that mattered was that Ed wouldn't be walking again.

Likely not ever.

Then when he was done with that . . . more screaming from Ed of course . . . Merle went on to stomp his junk into jelly. And he kicked him so many times down there, that Ed finally passed out again, mid-scream. That was after he'd shit himself . . . he'd long since pissed himself . . . and there was blood oozing out from his crotch area too.

Daryl could see it coming out on the grass.

And while he was passed out for that second time, Daryl popped his Bowie knife off his belt, and leaned over to slice Ed's shirt down the front. He wanted to see how bad he looked. And already there were boot marks, and some real ugly black swelling showin' up all over his chest. Merle gave a sharp nod.

"Did good, little brother."

"Hmm," Daryl hummed, "ain't done yet. Still got that last thing." Then his eyes shot up to his brother's.

"You wanna do it?"

God was he praying that Merle'd say yes, because Daryl'd never cut off a man's balls before. And that wasn't really on his to do list, 'cuz it was one of those things he worried about coming back from.

But he could see God wasn't grantin' him this favor, 'cuz Merle just gave a jerk of his chin.

"Naw man," his brother snorted, "you're the one that's been fuckin' his wife, you earned the trophy."

Before Daryl could explain how he'd just made that up to mess with Ed's head, the topic of their conversation started to come around again.

The second that he came up conscious though, he just started weeping like Daryl had never seen a man do before. Then he started garblin' something with that slack jaw, and it took a second but he figured out it was, "no more, no more."

Daryl's jaw clenched then. And he leaned down to spit in his face.

"How many times did your WIFE say that to you, right before you hit her again?! So HERE," he gave a stomp on one of those broken hands, "we decide when you're done, motherfucker, and we ain't FINISHED yet!"

They were at the end though. The point where Daryl's torn and bloody knuckles, which were really aching somethin' fierce, had finished their part in the day. That's when he held the bowie knife up in front of Ed's face. By then both his eyes were half swollen shut, but still somehow they managed to pop.

"No," he gargled out, just as Daryl brought that blade down quick, and slashed through the belt on his's pants.

It went through like butter.

Then with another flick of his wrist, the button went flying off into the grass. It landed somewhere with the teeth. After that he used the tip of the blade to catch the edge of the zipper.

He slowly inched it down, watching Ed's eyes fill up with fresh tears as he did.

But all that did was ENRAGE Daryl! Because he was picturing Sophia in this exact position knowin' what her daddy was gonna do to her. He felt a stab in his chest.

That poor baby.

Then Ed let out a mangled whimper of, "you cock sucking rednecks gonna rape me now I can't defend myself."

And Daryl leaned in close.

"Well that is what you tried to do to your little girl, isn't it?" He snarled, "you tried to rape that child. And then your wife too. But you couldn't get it up for her 'cuz you're a SICK FUCK!"

That last part he screamed, and spittle flew all over Ed's face.

Then before he could think about it anymore, he slashed that blade out again, that time cutting through the elastic of the blood and piss covered tighty whities there in front of him.

Inside there though, Jesus, it was a disgusting sight. Bad enough to make Daryl pause for just a second. Because the twig and berries he found in that case, were so bloodied and swollen purple and black from Merle stompin' on them, that they didn't really look much like they were human anymore. There was blood just oozing outta everything.

His dick was almost spurtin' it.

Hell, there was NO chance, that shit wasn't already permanent, broke. But bein' broke wasn't enough. It needed to just be gone. 'Cuz there was NOTHING you could do to a man that was worse than that.

So that's what Ed had comin'.

That was the last real thought Daryl had on the matter, before he let himself think about Sophia again, and then he let his rage take over. It was the only way to do what he needed to do. Castrate a man like he only ever had a deer.

And the deer had already been dead.

The scream that came out of Ed when Daryl made the first slash into that first ball, even with that broken jaw, Jesus, that sound was something else. Worse even than the jaw itself breakin'. But then Merle bashed him in the face again, that time with the butt of the shotgun.

Then everything around them was still.

So Daryl finished what he'd started. His hand was shaking the whole time, but he got it done. And he decided to just take off the whole package. Because even if by some fuckin' miracle didn't Ed die in the next few days, Daryl wanted to make sure all that was left was a half man.

Because that's all he ever was anyway.

By the time he was done, Daryl's hands were drenched in gore. And that twig and those berries, they were lying out there on the grass, slick with blood, but still so sickly and swollen. It was dumb, but it was almost like part of his brain was thinking like they'd deflate or something when they got cut off.

Like that's how it worked.

It wasn't of course, but . . . he slowly, and somewhat unsteadily, pushed himself to his feet . . . sometimes your brain thought dumb things. It couldn't be helped. And as he stared down at this pathetic, bruised and bloodied, half naked man lying mutilated on the ground, he tried to think if there was anything more to be done. Because this was a one and done deal.

He wasn't dealing with this asshole ever again.

But Ed's jaw and nose were broke, and given how one eye had gone a nasty milky red, he probably had one of those detached retina things. Merle had had one once that took about a month to heal with some surgery and a patch on it, but for purposes these days, something like that meant Ed was permanent blind there on the right. Beyond that, every one of his ribs on the left were busted . . . that was special for Carol . . . and then of course all the fingers on both hands had been snapped one by one. That was the Merle special. Plus the knee caps.

The other Merle special.

Yeah, Ed was a fucking mess and a half. And oh look . . . Daryl's jaw twitched . . . he was waking up.

Again.

The second that his eyes opened though, he started to sob and moan again, but considerin' how his package had been taken off, by Daryl's estimate, it was the first time he had cause for real bitchin'. But he still held no sympathy there. He just held his knife up, right in front of that mangled face.

"Did you want me to cut your tongue off too?"

The words were spoken very softly, and very calmly, because Daryl's anger was gone then.

He was just tired.

It seemed to frighten Ed more that he was acting the way he was, because even though he kept crying, he clammed up right quick. Then Daryl scrubbed his bloody hand across his pants.

"So," he sighed, "we're done now. If you were thinkin' we were gonna rape ya, well," his eyes hardened, "we, don't do shit like that," he shook his head, "we ain't even gonna kill ya. We're just gonna let you die over there in the field. It should be slow," he nodded, "and right painful. But after what you did to your family, that's the death you earned for yourself. And you remember that as you're dying," his voice faded, "this was the settling up for all the evil you did."

For a second Ed just stared back with this horrible look on that horrible Halloween mask face. Then he garbled out, "you can't leave me like this."

And Daryl smiled. It was his first real smile since he'd last seen Carol, probably three hours earlier.

"We can leave you like this," he answered back with a slow nod, "and we will leave you like this, because nobody cares about you, Ed. Nobody ever did."

Then Daryl slowly pushed himself up to his feet again, and turned to call over his shoulder.

"Glenn!"

It took a second but then he saw that kid's head pop up around the front corner of the RV.

"Yeah?"

Daryl's brow knitted together, "you finish the hole?"

"Yep," Glenn's eyes drifted over to the body behind him, then he winced as his attention snapped back, "uh, I uh," he stammered for a second as he blinked over and over, "I did it over on the far end of the field, by that fat pine tree. And um," he took two steps closer then and tossed him a balled up rag, "I got something for you."

"Thought you might want that," he added quietly as Daryl caught the grease stained cloth.

"Yeah," Daryl nodded, "thanks. And uh," he jerked his head off towards the tents, "go tell Shane it's done, and I'm puttin' him on his cop cleanup, 'cuz I gotta," he started unfolding the rag with a sniff, "go bury this shit."

Then he turned around to give Merle a look.

"I know you're done, but can you just stay 'til Shane gets here?"

As expected, his brother rolled his eyes at that, but then his mouth twisted and he let out an exaggerated sigh.

"One fucking minute," he grunted while holding his middle finger up in the air, "that's all I'm waiting. If Deputy Douchebag ain't here by then, I'm leavin' dickless to rot."

Before Daryl could say anything back to that, Merle started to chuckle to himself.

"Dickless. Damn man," he gave a hard smack to the sniveling Ed's shoulder, "you're the first asshole I called dickless who actually lost a dick! Ha!" He looked back over at Daryl with a grin, "that's pretty good! You know what," he nodded, "for that I'll give you an extra minute."

"Yeah," Daryl rolled his eyes, "thanks."

So with that, and a scrunch to his nose, he leaned over with his new rag in hand to scoop up the pieces of Ed's package off the ground. After that, he folded the edges of the cloth up around that bloody mess, and tucked the whole thing down by his side. His hope there bein', maybe at least then if any of the kiddies were out they wouldn't notice it, and wonder what it was.

Because seriously . . . he started off for the field with a sigh . . . he wasn't explain' this one for nothing.

/*/*/*/*/

When he was done buryin' Ed's junk in the hole, and then filling the hole back up again, Daryl cut into the trees and walked for a bit in the quiet. He didn't venture far, in part because he didn't have his bow, only his knives. So basically he just trekked along the length of the camp, about ten yards in from the tree line, as he tried to make some peace with all he'd just done. By the time he'd walked the full length of their little area though, he'd started picking up flies from the blood on his hands. At that point he was comin' out at the far end of the camp.

Down near the quarry.

So that's where he detoured out. And when he got down there, he stripped off his bloody shirt and boots, slipped off his belt with his last three knives, and pulled off his socks. Then with his pants still on, he waded in to the drop off, and started swimmin' out to the really deep part of the pool.

The part where Sophia had fallen in the day before.

And with the day bein' so much hotter, the cold water felt a lot nicer than the last time he'd been in there. So once he reached the center of that still, deep water, he stopped swimmin'. Then he took a deep breath . . . and just let himself sink.

Down, down, down, with his eyes closed, as he dropped like a weight.

He let himself go until he'd counted to a slow forty . . . Sophia's sticker . . . that's when he gave a hard kick, and started swimming back up, until finally, he broke through the surface with a gasp. For a moment he just tipped his head back and treaded water, staring up at the blue sky. It wasn't even eight o'clock yet, and the sun was already beatin' down.

It was gonna be a scorcher.

And even though this woulda been a good day (unlike yesterday) to just hang out in the water, he knew he couldn't that. Just cuz he'd finished with Ed, didn't mean there wasn't still stuff to do. So with that, he took a breath, and turned to start the swim back to shore.

That's when he noticed that somebody was already over there waitin' on him.

Lori.

She was washing the blood off his boots.

"She wanted to come find you herself," she called over, with a half glance, most of her attention still focused on the task she was performing, "but she's in no state to be chasing you around. So," she tipped her head back then to catch his eyes as he moved across the water, "if you've got your head clear now, you need to go see her, because she's worried sick about you."

Daryl bit his lip at that as finished his swim over to the shallows. That's where he stopped, and while he was still treading water, he gave Lori a look.

"What'd they do with Ed?"

"Shane's still taking care of it," she answered with a jerk of her head up towards the hill, "the plan was to put a loose gag on him, tie him up good, and then they'd bind him to that big oak tree in the thicket on the far end of the field, just before the woods."

"Hmm," he hummed, while watching Lori move on to rinsing out his shirt, "that should be a good spot. Easy view from the roof, but far from where the kids play."

"Yeah," Lori let out a sigh as she scrubbed at a spot of clotted blood, "that was Shane's thought too. You know," she tipped her head back to look at him, "one day my husband, Rick, he came home in the middle of the afternoon, with his boots and his uniform all smeared in blood and fluids just like your clothes. He told me there'd been a car accident," her eyes dropped back down as she splashed some water on the thin cotton, "a pregnant woman had gone into labor and tried to drive herself to the hospital. It was off on a back road, so Rick and Shane got there before the ambulance, so Rick had to deliver the baby there on the side of the road." Her voice started to thicken, "funny how his day and yours left the same kind of mess."

They were both quiet for a second before Daryl cleared his throat.

"Were the lady and her baby okay?"

And Lori nodded.

"Yeah," she looked up again, that time with a watery smile, "she got a little cut up in the accident, but they were both fine in the end. It was a boy. And for the last three years we've been getting a Christmas card from them with a new picture." Then her smile suddenly fell away as her voice faded off, "I wonder if they're still alive now."

"Well," Daryl scowled as he started to walk up out of the water, "you and your boy are still alive, so no reason to be writin' off her and hers as walker chow."

"True," Lori huffed, "very true."

Then she brought her hand up to gesture just over her shoulder.

"I brought you a towel."

His brow knitted together at that, even as he started walkin' over to pick it up.

"How'd you know I'd be here?"

The confusion was clear in his voice. But then Lori tipped her head back to give him a soft look.

"Because," she whispered with a weary sigh, "it's where you were yesterday."

Daryl had nothin' to say to that, so he just busied himself with drying off. At least his top half. His pants were obviously soaked, and if Lori wasn't right there he woulda taken 'em off, but he figured with the way his boxers were probably stickin' to him . . . and completely see through . . . she would not appreciate that.

But then it was like she knew what he was thinkin, 'cuz with her hands still down in the shallows scrubbin' at a spot on his shirt, she called over her shoulder, "just take your pants off, and wrap up in the towel."

His eyes crinkled a bit then, because once again that woman was just tellin' and not askin'. But he generally knew when to best pick his battles (especially when all he wanted to do was take off those wet pants anyway), so he just grunted out a, "yes, ma'am," as he reached for his zipper.

Thirty seconds later, he was down to just his skivvies and wrappin' that damp towel around his waist. That's when Lori reached over to pick up his pants. She folded them up, and laid them down neatly on top of his wet, already folded, shirt.

"They still need to be washed properly with soap," she said softly while smoothing out the pile, "but at least the blood's rinsed. I'll just add them to today's pile."

"Hmm," he hummed, "thanks. And uh," he gestured towards his clean boots, "and for the boots too. You didn't have to do that."

She tipped her head back to give him a sad smile.

"It was the least I could do."

Then she let out a slow breath as she came back up to her feet. They were only standin' maybe a foot apart, and him bein' mostly naked didn't seem to be phasin' her in any way, because she was just starin' up at him. That sad look was still on her face.

Then she tipped her head to the side.

"I know you don't want me in your business, Daryl . . ."

"This is true," he cut in with a warning look.

"Buuut," she continued on like he hadn't interrupted, "I just need to know." She let out a heavy sigh, "you are going to take full responsibility for them now, right? Because if you're not going to step in there all the way, then I need to talk to Shane and make sure he's on board with making them a permanent part of our unit."

Daryl's brow darkened at that.

"You don't need to be talkin' to old Shane about anything," he grunted while leaning over to pick up his boots, "I got this."

"You're sure?" Lori asked with a faint purse to her lips. And Daryl damn near lost it then.

"God DAMN it woman," he snapped back on a growl, "I just cut off a man's COCK and BALLS for those two! So why the FUCK are you pushing me now?!"

It was hard enough doing all that crap he'd done for them, and to now STILL have to fuckin' justify himself as being honorable or some shit! Like seriously, what the FUCK?!

And for a second he just stood there, with his chest heaving and his eyes blazing. And he was expecting that Lori woulda been hightailin' it outta there by then, because all that anger was clearly directed at her. But just like Carol, she didn't seem to be afraid of him. No . . . his brow started to scrunch together . . . instead she was just looking at him.

She seemed terribly sad.

"I'm so sorry that you had to do that," she whispered then, "it must have been awful."

Damn if that was the last thing he was expectin' her to say . . . sorry. And so for a second he just stared down at her, while she looked up at him. Their eyes were locked together. And then his heart rate began to slowly even out.

Finally his jaw twitched.

"Don't matter that it was awful," he murmured as his attention fell to the water a few feet away, "those two deserved to have some justice for all the things he did," he swallowed, "and that's all the justice I could get 'em. But it wasn't enough," his voice faded off, "nothin' was gonna be enough."

In that moment he was back in his mind, hearin' how Carol's voice had broke telling him that awful story about what she'd found when she'd got back to their tent. He knew there was nothing that was ever gonna make that memory better for her or Sophia. All he'd done was break out a mop and a bucket to clean up the mess Ed had made.

He was nothin' but a fucking janitor.

And for almost a minute he just stared down at that lapping water as he took these slow, deep breaths. But then suddenly he felt Lori's hand touch his cheek.

And his head snapped back, as his eyes went wide.

Because he might've been gettin' accustomed to Carol touching him so freely, but that was about it. If Lori was gettin' though, how she was treading here in an area that wasn't safe for her to be treadin' in, she didn't seem to be taking the hint.

Or maybe she just didn't care.

And after they just stared at each other for damn near another full minute, finally he blinked . . . and when he did, he winced. And when he took a deep breath, that's when her hand finally fell away from his cheek.

'Bout damn time.

But then she was steppin' in, and leaning up, and wrapping her arms around his neck.

His arms were both still down by his side, and in one hand he was holdin' his boots. Mostly he was just standing there though like a freaking board. Because he did not know what the FUCK to do then, because people just did NOT go around hugging him! He was NOT the RANDOM hugging type!

That was something he felt was pretty God damn clear!

Still though, he was almost too stunned to say anything. But then after about ten seconds or so of her still not letting him go, he finally hissed, "what are you doin' woman?!"

All she did was just mutter back a, "hush."

His brow wrinkled then, because he was so confused. Partly because the way she was actin' was just BAFFLING the hell out of him! Mostly though, it was because he was startin' to feel kinda conflicted about the hug itself. Because he couldn't deny that as much as he didn't WANT this woman hanging off of him . . . he did kinda like it.

It felt nice to have a soft body wrapped around him.

And he didn't mean that in a sexual way, because he really was not attracted to a woman that looked like Olive Oil. It was just that besides Carol just in the last day, Lori was the only woman to hug him in probably the last six years. It'd been that long since he'd had a regular girl.

Sandy.

But since she'd gone off with her ex-baby daddy up north, the only physical contact he'd had with any woman (anyone), had been a few backroom, (or bathroom), screws with a couple of cocktail waitresses, and one lady bartender. That screwin' had been all about gettin' down to business though. And when they were done, those ladies (and some of them you had to kinda use that word real loose) they'd just fixed their clothes and left. Usually with him still zipping himself up. So okay, maybe he had been missin' having a nice girl, and all the nice stuff that came with that.

It was just one more thing that he didn't let himself think about though.

And it was when he'd started to let himself think about that, is when he finally felt his body relax as he let out a slow breath. And that's when Lori gave him one really tight squeeze, just before she patted his back.

And when she let her arms fall away, it was with a faint sigh.

"There, I knew you'd survive it."

When he shot her a dirty look for that, her eyes crinkled . . . but then she sobered again and said pointedly, "you really needed a hug. And I just figured," she continued on while crossing her arms at her chest, "that if today's the day for doling out what people have coming to them, that you should get one. Because we all had you pegged dead wrong, Daryl Dixon." Then she tipped her head to the side before adding with a wry smirk, "of course a lot of that was due to the fact that you are a real pain in the ass."

Feeling his lips start to twitch, because this woman was a trip, Daryl had to look off to the side.

"Yeah well," he cleared his throat, "I ain't the only one around here that can cause discomfort in a person's special area." He shot her a look, "you can be a real ball buster, lady."

A hint of pink touched Lori's cheeks then as she let out a faint huff.

"Yeah, I know," she agreed with a sharp nod, "and I won't say I'm sorry because sometimes you have to bust balls to get things done. But," she tipped her head, "I'll try not to bust your balls quite so much, if you would please agree to try not to be such a pain in my ass," her arms fell down then as she put her hand out, "deal?"

For a second Daryl just looked down at that woman's hand, because he still wasn't quite sure what to make of the person attached to it. He hadn't really met anyone quite like her before. But then finally he let out an amused huff.

"Fine," he muttered while reaching over to give her fingers a loose shake . . . it was all he could manage with the way his knuckles were swellin' up, "you wanna play nicey nice, I can do that." Then he gave her a look as their hands fell apart, "but just for you though. Don't be expectin' this to carry over to your boy Shane. Because he and I ain't seen eye to eye on nothing 'cept this thing with Ed."

It was one thing to allow that maybe he and Lori might actually make friends at some point, but that just wasn't gonna happen with her man. Not when he still had so much of that arrogant cop in him. Men like Shane, they always believed their own hype. Though Daryl would allow that the guy was a hell of a shot.

But that's about all he'd give him.

And he could see Lori was thinkin' on what he'd just said. Then she gave him a nod.

"Fair enough. And," she jiggled her head, "I admit it's not likely there's any world where you two would ever be friends, but as long as our little group holds together, maybe you could just try to not kill each other," and her lip quirked up then in a faint smile, "if that's not too much trouble."

"Pfft," he snorted, "we'll see."

For just a second Lori's lips twitched, but then she got that back under control.

"All right then," she added on then with a jerk of her chin towards his bare chest, "go up and put some dry clothes on, Carol's waiting on you."

"Yes ma'am," he snorted again, that time with a half smirk. And her mouth quivered.

"Sorry," she shrugged as she leaned down to scoop up his laundry, "but you see," she came back up to her feet, "ball busters get shit done."

Then she turned around and walked away.

For a second Daryl just watched her walk off, then he shook his head, and reached down to start picking up the rest of his shit.

It was time to see Carol.

/*/*/*/*/

After he'd changed into his last set of clean, dry clothes . . . two days in a row of jumpin' in the quarry had dramatically reduced his available wardrobe . . . Daryl headed down to Lori's tent.

Unlike the last time he'd been there when he'd had a knot sittin' in his stomach over the day ahead, now he just felt kinda empty. What he'd done to Ed was right, but it didn't feel good. For Merle it probably did, just 'cuz he'd always liked hurtin' people.

He'd got that from Daddy.

But Daryl, whenever he got into a fight, he'd never felt good about it. Not like he'd always felt BAD about it . . . sometimes an asshole just had a busted head coming to 'em . . . but he'd never taken any real pleasure in it even then. Like today with Ed, all he'd done to him, he'd done 'cuz that fucker had earned it . . . but Daryl had HATED that he had earned it. Because all those years of abuse that Carol and Sophia had suffered, is what'd brought them there. Brought him to the moment where he had to carve up a man in the worst way imaginable to another man. So how could he really feel 'good,' about bein' a party to any of that chain of misery?

Not possible.

Still though, when he got to the tent, he tried to even out his expression. Because he didn't know what Carol was gonna need him to be. And seeing as how a person couldn't really, 'knock' on a tent . . . at least not without looking like a fucking idiot . . . he just cleared his throat, loudly. Then he called out, in a softer tone, "it's Daryl."

Almost immediately there was a rustling from inside, and then a frantic yank of the zipper as it went flying up. Then Carol's head popped out.

His eyes widened when he saw her face.

Because even though he knew how bad that beating had been she'd taken, now in the bright summer sun, and all these hours later, the damage he could see on her was brutal. And when she went to climb out of the tent, he immediately put his hand out to help her. When he did that though, all she did was hold that hand out in front of her.

She was staring down at his tattered and swollen knuckles.

When she looked back up, he could see that her eyes were watering.

"Are you okay?" She whispered, almost fearfully as she reached up to touch the bruise on his forehead. And he nodded back with the faintest of crinkling of his eyes . . . just enough to try and make her feel better.

"Yeah baby," he murmured, "I'm fine. I'll admit he did get a jump on me first thing, but Merle was there quick, so," his lips pursed, "that didn't amount to nothing. So then we just," he took a breath, "went on and did what we'd planned to do."

One of those tears slipped down Carol's cheek then as she moved over the two steps to cuddle in against his chest.

He immediately slipped his arm around her waist, and the other around her shoulders. Then he tipped his head down to rest against hers. And as they held each other there for a few seconds, he couldn't deny that this was a much better hug than the one he'd had with Lori. That one just felt nice.

This one made him happy.

At least it did until Carol murmured against his chest, "his screaming woke me up. Sophia too."

And that's when Daryl's eyes widened.

"God," he let out a heavy breath as his fingertips pressed into her arm, "it didn't make things worse for her, did it?"

Shit, if he'd traumatized that child worse than she already had been, he was packing up his tent today and moving on. Because he'd know he had no business playin' fucking hero.

But then he felt Carol shake her head.

"No," came the slightly muffled response, "no, she was scared at first because she didn't know what going on, but then I explained. I said that was her daddy, and that he was being hurt for all the terrible things he'd been doing to us all these years. And I told her that I'd been praying for him to be punished, and that God had finally answered that prayer by bringing you into our lives to protect us. But that in the end, her daddy had brought it all on himself, because he was an evil man who deserved everything he got."

Hearing that, Daryl's eyes started to water. Because he hadn't realized Carol thought about it like that . . . so biblical. Like they'd met up because of something she'd been praying on. It was kind of dangerous to let himself think that way though. Even if he did still believe in God (most days), it didn't seem right to hand off what he and Merle had done to the Big Man. That'd be like not acceptin' their part in it. Yeah, he'd done what he'd done today with the best of reasons, but that still sure as hell didn't make what he did 'godly.'

He still needed to own that shit.

But he didn't wanna contradict Carol, because if that's what she believed, and if that's what helped Sophia understand what'd been done, then it wasn't his place to comment. So instead he just let out a faint sigh as he brushed his fingertips along her collarbone.

"So she's doin' okay then?" He asked softly. And Carol tipped her head back to give him a nod.

"Yeah," her jaw twisted, "I think she is actually. I mean she's still," her brow darkened, "skittish, of course, but I think knowing that he really can't ever," her voice started to crackle, "hurt her again, has helped her a lot." She nodded, "it makes her feel safer. So," she reached up to brush her fingers along his cheek, "thank you for giving her that," her lips pursed as she finished sadly, "because it's more than I ever could."

"Carol," Daryl said with a wince, "you can't look at it like that. I don't like to talk about it, but," he bit his lip, "I'll tell you this much, I grew up with a daddy just like Sophia's, but I didn't have a momma all the years she's had one. My momma died when I was seven, and I can tell you," he gave her a hard look, "life was a lot better before she was gone. And I'm not just sayin' that I missed her later, I mean," he let out a heavy breath, "when she was alive, so many times she put herself between him and me. She was just a little slip of a thing herself and," he huffed, "she drank a lot, but she was still my momma and she protected me from that man the best she could. And it made a difference, not only on the day to day, but on my memories of her. So," he rubbed his hand down Carol's arm, "don't go thinkin' what you did these last few years isn't somethin' Sophia will appreciate later. I mean," a sad smile touched his lips then, "if we can get to later, that is. But one day at a time on that, right?"

Though he could understand Carol feeling guilt for not leaving Ed and staying away, from the experience of growin' up with his daddy, Daryl knew that the fantasy about just getting up and going off to a safe place, was always just that . . . the fantasy. The reality was that you stayed. You stayed and you took one beatin' after the next, whether you deserved them or not.

That was the life.

And it was a hard fuckin' thing to break out of. Really, if not for his daddy dropping dead of a heart attack in the middle of his regular Sunday meatloaf, Daryl probably would've kept taking those hits until the day he was big enough to fight back, and then he woulda ended killing that son of a bitch. So yeah, the best thing his daddy ever did was dying when Daryl was fourteen.

It was the only gift he ever got from that man.

And he could feel Carol now tryin' to take a breath, and then she sniffled, "yeah, right, one day at a time. And um," she swallowed, "thank you for telling me that about your mama," her eyes crinkled as she tipped her head back, "it helps."

His lip quirked up then.

"Good."

From there, a moment passed where they just looked at each other. And though Daryl did have a bit of an itch to give that woman a kiss, he knew it was much too soon for that. Even if it hadn't been though, half of Carol's poor pretty face, (lips included) was bruised and swollen. So he certainly wasn't gonna be puttin' his lips anywhere that was gonna cause her more hurt. But that at least gave him a solid reason for goin' real slow with things, besides just the obvious, in that she was only recently "divorced."

Again, of the new world fashion.

But if nature took its course like he expected, Carol would be a widow within days, and then at least he wouldn't have to worry about anybody talkin' about them behind their backs. Of course, again, it was more his worry about people talkin' about Carol than him . . . that "whore" judgment the ladies tended to get that the men didn't . . . but either way, that was just another reason for him to be keepin' his lips to himself for the next little while.

That wasn't to say that hugging wasn't on the menu though.

'Cuz when Carol put her head back down on his chest, and let out this sigh, that faint bit of happy came back to him. And that was just from bein' able to finally hold her like he wanted.

So yeah, for right now . . . he tipped his head down to rest against hers again . . . that would be enough.

---

A/N 2: So yeah, that was some NASTY stuff with the Breaking of Ed! If you weren't sure if we'd really go with castration, we did :) And it is a disturbing thing to do, and Daryl didn't feel good about doing it, but like he said, there's not much in the way of justice left in the world for Carol and Sophia. And he couldn't kill Ed outright, so that's all he could do for them. And if you're wondering if season 1 Daryl was ready for that, remember for canon, this is a Daryl who was within X days of being completely okay with shooting a Living Jim in the head, just for being infected. So if motivated, I feel confident he could've put his hunting skills to use just like did here.

Again, it is obviously clear that I like Lori. And I liked the idea that she and Daryl could be friends, of the no sugar coating, mutual ball buster sort, just because he'd proven himself to be a standup guy. I think that did sort of happen much, much later, but if there had been a chance for him to prove himself before she got all sucked into her triangle and he got sucked into his bitterness and anger about Merle, that their relationship could have started down a different path much earlier. It would definitely have benefited Lori's character if she'd had somebody like Daryl calling her out on her shit during the whole f'ing debacle that came later. That might all go differently too because of it.

I am obviously going with the angle that Daryl is not a total eunuch when it comes to women :) I just never felt (personally) that you could really gauge someone's true dynamic in that respect, based on the situation we found them in. The world ends, your priorities will shift. If you're already an introvert (and he's kind of a classic extroverted introvert, loud yet broody) then you're just going to close yourself off more initially when everyone around you is dying. And for canon, if he's capable of giving himself a degree of physical release, then simply not wanting to be bothered with trying to navigate 'emotional' entanglements with women, when he has all of this other shit to deal with, makes sense to me. And that answer applies even more really if you are a Caryl shipper. Because I think he really wasn't interested in other women because in his mind he already had a woman. His devotion for Carol is real (even if you have on blinders and want to see it as platonic, you can't deny that he obviously loves her in a 'special' way), but they kept getting wrenched apart. So to change their dynamic and let himself really FEEL all of what he feels for her, would be difficult. There's a lot more to lose. Same for her.

So yeah, that's my take on them for canon. For HERE, I'm just giving him maybe two or three girlfriends over the last twenty-five years, and then just a few "ladies" he knew from the bars, to fill the in between. And Carol, I already folded in that she'd had a couple of relationships before Ed, with men that she would have been better off with than him.

And because Daryl was so good with a baby Judith, (and I've said elsewhere that would indicate he had 'some' previous baby experience), you'll note that here I gave him an ex with a baby daddy, indicating said ex had a child of some unknown age. That will be a more detailed conversation with Carol at some point.

And lastly, writing Merle here was fun, because I didn't have to walk the line of his douchebaggery. He was just taunting a wife beating child rapist in ways that really, anybody would love to if you could JUST get away with it.

So next time around Rick's appearance will be on the horizon. And obviously we have very much deviated away from canon now what with Ed still having a penis when we met him. So I'll kind of be 'cherry picking' which events still happen, and the order that they happen in, but we're definitely going to the CDC! Because hell if I don't already have a nice big chapter written for them AT the CDC, so we're definitely going there because crucial events happen that cannot be skipped :)

Anyway, thank you all for the continued follows and I always love to hear from you! I'd be curious if anyone had different plans for Ed ;)