AN: Lucky #13! You guys are so awesome. I love reading your reviews and PMs. Sorry this chapter took so long to get out. I've been distracted and struggling with time management issues. Oh, and to complicate my life more, I started writing another multi-chapter fic. I know it's totally crazy! But I'm happy to be putting my madness to good use and enabling you all. My pain is your gain! This one turned out to be much longer than I planned. I was going to break it into two chapters, then I thought, nah!

Pardon my errors and please let me know what you think! - jb

Chapter 13: Fierce Beauty

"Carol! Look out!" T-Dog shouted as he pushed her away from the falling debris.

Suddenly, she was stumbling backwards, twisting her ankle as she fell to the ground. The shotgun fell from her shoulder but the clatter of it was overpowered by the deafening crash as chunks of brick, metal, and plaster collapsed into the narrow hallway. Small rays of light were shining through the area where the roof had completely buckled and caved in.

She panicked when she noticed T-Dog had disappeared. Had he been buried?

"T-Dog!"

"I'm okay." His reassuring voice came from the other side. She heard the debris shifting. "Carol, there's no way around this. Hurry up and make your way to the other entrance and catch up with Rick and Glenn."

"Okay. You be careful! The sooner we're out of this place the better." She stood up and winced as pain shot up her leg from her ankle. She picked up the shotgun and began to hobble down the hallway, doing her best to ignore the throbbing ache. It wasn't the first time she had to cope with an injury.

She headed to the main building towards the north entrance, trying her best to move as quickly as she could. When she finally reached the end of the north corridor and exited the building, she saw Rick and Glenn getting into the Suburban. She was just about to call out to them to tell them to wait when she heard the moaning and shuffling from behind her on her left. Her stomach lurched.

There were dozens of them swarming through the opening of the fence and across the barren lot. Too many, she thought. She couldn't count them all. She knew she wasn't going to make it to Rick and Glenn in time. She saw them get into the truck unaware of the herd moving in. At least they're safe. She worried about T-Dog and hoped he made it back to the truck safely. She opened the door of the factory again and closed it behind her as the walkers, now alerted to her presence, started stumbling towards her. There was nothing to fasten the door with. Think!

She quickly assessed her lack of options and moved back towards the main building where she remembered seeing a decaying staircase. Thump, thump, thump. She could hear the walkers throwing themselves against the door trying to get through. Carol ascended the rusted steel and concrete staircase up towards a raised platform above the main floor. The foot of her good ankle twisted on one of the steps near the top as the concrete crumbled, sending twinges up both legs as she fell forward, dropping the shotgun from her hand. It clattered noisily as it slid down the stairs out of reach. She bit into her lip to stifle the moan she nearly let loose, silently regretting that she hadn't taken one of the handguns instead. Need to be more efficient, she scolded herself for her clumsiness.

Thwack! She heard a cracking sound as the entrance door slammed open and its echo bounced down the corridor. She noticed two doors against the wall at the top of the platform. She quickly retrieved the gun just as she heard the walkers begin to shuffle down the hallway towards the main room. Her heart was pounding with a ferocious intensity as she made her way back up the stairs again, avoiding the crumbled area, towards the second door which was opened. It was just an empty room with a panel of broken windows lining one side. The windows were filled with jagged pieces of glass and too small to climb out of. Old turquoise-colored paint was peeling away from the wall and some of the plaster from the ceiling and walls was in piles of dirty rubble and dead leaves scattered across the splintering wood floor. She shut the door behind her, but there was no way to lock it. Timorously, she backed away from the door into the corner of the room. The blood continued to hammer in her ears. She was trapped.

You're so stupid, Ed's voice echoed in Carol's mind. Can't do anything right. You know they ain't comin' back for you. They're gonna leave you behind just like that blonde bitch. Cowering, she sunk her shoulders against the wall as echoes of Ed's cruel laughter clamored along with the drumming in her ears. You're dead meat.

She stayed there, frozen in fear, not knowing how much time was passing. Minutes? Hours? Ultimately, it was the throbbing ache in her ankles that brought her back into her body.

Finding her breath, she reached a shaky hand into her pocket for her knife. Her fingers brushed up against another object. She pulled the stone from her pocket to look at it. It shimmered in her palm and its golden sheen reminded her of the color of Sophia's hair. As she rubbed her fingers against its smooth surface, she took a deep breath. You can be strong, she told herself. You can do this. You can do this. You can do this. Gripping the stone in her palm, she repeated Daryl's words over and over like a mantra and found that they gave her courage. Her heart slowed and the drumming in her ears ceased, allowing her to think more clearly. Daryl believed in her. You ain't stupid, he had reassured her. She was smart enough to get herself out of this. She could find her way back to the others. To hell with Ed, she thought shoving the stone back in her pocket and pulling out her knife with conviction. As she released the blade she could almost see Daryl's subdued grin flashing back at her in approval. Feeling braver, she moved away from the comfort of the corner.

Both ankles were hurting now as she limped towards the broken windows, hoping to get a view of her current situation. The afternoon sun was still fairly high in the cloudless sky, suggesting she had at least a couple of hours before nightfall. From her position, she couldn't see any walkers, but she knew that didn't mean they weren't down there. Some of them were probably downstairs waiting for her. She knew from Dr. Jenner that they were not likely smart enough to climb the stairs on their own out of curiosity. They had none. They were creatures driven purely by instinct, not intellect. And she was fairly certain they had not seen her to know where she had hidden. She also knew the walkers were uncoordinated, and if any walkers did climb the stairs they would have considerable difficulty. She could use that to her advantage. She figured she could wait until most of the walkers had moved on and then sneak her way back to the road. It was only a few miles back to the house. It would be hell on her ankles, but it was her only option.

She wasn't naive enough to think the others would return for her. No one really knew what had happened to Andrea after that herd had engulfed the farm. But Rick had made it clear to everyone that it had been too much of a risk to go back. Frankly, she didn't blame him. He wanted to protect the group. She could understand that need. She was a mother.

She never would have willingly placed her daughter in harm's way. Carol had taken plenty of beatings from Ed just so he would keep his hands off their daughter. She wished she could have done more to protect her. She still had dreams that it was her instead of Sophia that had been chased down the embankment that day. But every dream ended the same; she awoke to the gut-wrenching truth–her little girl was gone and was never coming back.

Little by little, she was learning to make peace with the loss and to forgive herself. It wasn't easy by any means. By far, it was the hardest thing she ever had to do–to live with the loss. For Carol, survival was a daily act of atonement, of learning to right the wrongs she believed she'd done or not done, of living with them. She never believed that she had enough power to make any decisions, that things could change–that she could. Her fear had been too disabling. That's why she never tried to leave Ed. But Ed and Sophia were both gone now. In the end, she had to learn to live with herself. This blossoming belief in herself was giving her a new perspective on life. It allowed her to take more risks, to challenge herself, to move outside of her comfort zone. She was learning she was capable of doing the hard things that were required now. And sometimes, she just had to do things on her own.

There was no way to escape the factory except the way she came in. If she was lucky, the walkers hadn't heard her creep upstairs, so she stayed quiet and waited with her knife ready just in case. She sat down with her back up against the wall at first before she thought better about it. If she planned to get far, she needed to rest her ankles. She turned her body to lie down on the floor, and then she carefully swung her legs up the rotting wall. She hoped that by elevating her feet she could keep the swelling of her ankles down.

She lay there for a long while, just waiting. It was peaceful, actually. Doing nothing was often an invitation to an onslaught of self-criticism and self-doubt. But something had shifted within her. Instead of dwelling on her own problems and imperfections, her thoughts turned to the small band of survivors she had grown to love dearly and was highly motivated to return to. She thought about Lori who grew more anxious every day about the birth of the baby. Carol wanted to be there for her to support her friend. She knew it was hard enough to cope with the changing hormones and normal fears of motherhood, but Lori's situation was more complicated considering the stress of their new lifestyle and the rift in her marriage. Carol didn't want Lori to feel like she was on her own.

She also thought of Maggie and Glenn. The beauty of their love and dedication to one another gave her hope that even good things could be possible in this new world. She thought of young Carl and his struggle to understand the world and find his place in it. And Beth's honesty and compassion. The girl didn't have a mean bone in her body. It made Carol worry about her. She thought of Rick, who was struggling to do his best to keep them all safe and to cope with the things he'd done in order to do so. She thought of Hershel's gentle wisdom and healer's heart. Of T-Dog's kindness and laughter. Of Daryl's stubborn determination. Thinking about everyone filled her heart and gave her hope. Each of them had given her a reason to get up in the morning. It was their love that was worth fighting for.

Carol's thoughts drifted to the talk she had with Daryl the night before. Daryl was only just figuring out who he was. He was struggling to become his own man away from the destructive shadows of Merle and his father. And he had come so far. He was actually starting to open up to her a little and had shared about what was going on in that head of his. He had allowed himself to be vulnerable with her, disclosing some of the root feelings that lay underneath his angry mask. She was proud of him. The two of them had developed a closeness that she never had with a man before. She most certainly never had it with Ed. She felt understood and respected by Daryl. He had seen her strength before she had known it was even there. In a similar way, she had seen his thoughtful concern of others before he had acknowledged it himself. They were helping each other to overcome their deepest fears and insecurities by recognizing and honoring the good parts of each other that had been overlooked by others–and themselves. As she realized this, she felt the warmth spreading from her center. Daryl had become very important to her. She appreciated the way he looked out for her. He made her feel good about herself. They were friends. Maybe we can have something more someday. The thought put a smile on her face. Her and Daryl. Together. She snorted. The idea of it seemed so absurd that she quietly laughed at herself for even imaging it.

That's enough daydreaming.

Carol rolled her legs off the wall and sat up. She wondered if it would be safe to leave the room. She was ready. Pulling the shotgun shells out of her bag, she stuffed them into her pockets. She wanted them to be close in case she needed to get to them quickly. She took a few sips of water from the bottle that she had stored in her pack as she prepared herself to leave. Finally standing, she hobbled over to the door, opening it quietly to peer out. There were no walkers on the platform. She opened the door a little wider and crept to the edge of the platform and looked down.

There were a few more than a half dozen walkers that she could surmise from her quick scan of the room. Her heart picked up its pace. Four of them were directly below her in the large room and there were three over where the hallway began. Getting the walkers to the staircase was her best bet. She secured the shotgun strap across her shoulder so it wouldn't fall again and tapped the corroded metal handrail with her knife. It made a clanging sound that alerted the walkers below. They turned towards the sound reflexively and caught her movement as she descended halfway down the steps. Her breath hitched. You can do this.

The walkers started shambling over to the staircase. The first one to reach it tripped on the first step. Another approached the opening by the handrail. She took the opportunity and quickly descended on them, stabbing them both in quick succession through their ears. The second one attempting to ascend tried to grab her arm, but she pulled it towards her instead and stabbed it through the eye. She tossed the body to the right side to narrow the pathway up the stairs. She felt a rush from the kills as her muscles became flooded with an excited energy.

The next two came at her at the same time so she vigorously kicked away the one on the right near the handrail first. Full of adrenaline, she barely noticed the jolting sensation radiating from her ankle. She stabbed the walker to her left as it snarled at her. Her knife got stuck so she had to step on its skull to get it out. It made a crunching sound as she crushed its skull and was rewarded by an eruption of putrid goo as she jerked the blade free. By the time she got it out, three more walkers were swarming the bottom of the staircase so she backed up slowly so they couldn't reach her underneath the handrail. Her heart was beating furiously. Luckily, the procession of walkers up the flight of stairs had slowed because of the heap of bodies laying at the bottom and one side of the staircase allowed only one walker to ascend at a time. But she barely had time to catch her breath as one of the walkers started to crawl underneath the handrail. She used her hand to grasp the railing to steady herself as she watched the walkers staggering up the steps.

A few more walkers came in from the hallway attracted by the noise of the struggle. When the first walker on the stairs got halfway up, she lifted her leg and kicked it backwards. She didn't even feel a sting of pain. The walkers behind it fell like dominoes and tumbled over the one trying to crawl through. Again, she descended, piercing the one crawling in the eye because it was closest before moving on to the next. She swiftly rolled the bodies over to the edge. The second one she pushed fell over the handrail and made a loud splattering noise as it hit the concrete below.

Well, if there are anymore nearby that will certainly attract them.

She didn't give up, she kept at it, moving gracefully up and down the stairs, kicking and slaying the walkers, and tossing them over the railing. Energized, she was unaware of the pain in her ankles as the adrenaline drove her onward. The bottom of the staircase was beginning to crumble from the impact, making it harder for the walkers to ascend so it forced her down lower on the stairs. She used the handrail for leverage, kicking the walkers away so she could prevent herself from getting blindsided and allowing her to kill one at a time. When finally the last walker was down she rested her hands on her knees to catch her breath. She looked over at the hallway and saw there were no more approaching.

Carol examined the casualties, making sure she hadn't missed any that still might be gnashing its teeth, but nothing was moving. She didn't count them, she didn't feel the need to keep score the way Carl did trying to prove himself a man. But there were more than a dozen corpses. Taking a deep breath, she felt proud of herself for taking action, for taking care of herself. A current of euphoria was charging through her. However, she didn't allow herself to dwell in the feeling of accomplishment because she still had so far to go before she was home again. She couldn't rest. Knowing this, she staggered her way through the slain corpses towards the narrow corridor and peeked around the corner, holding onto the wall to take another ragged breath. It was empty. With swift strides, she made her way down the hallway towards the door. The jam around it had cracked from the force of the walkers. Carefully, she pulled the door open and was met with a stern crossbow in her face.

"Daryl?" she gasped.

Daryl lowered the crossbow, narrowing his eyes as he inspected Carol. An expanding force surged inside his chest and the skin under his clothes began to hum as a flood of feelings passed through him. Dumbfounded, he couldn't quite believe it was her. She was covered in plaster dust and black walker brains. Her hair was disheveled; she looked like she'd been through hell. But there was a rosy glow upon her cheeks underneath the splatter of gore and it made the sparkle in her eyes glow even brighter. She was holding the knife firmly in her hand the way he had shown her and it was dripping with a shiny, black ooze. Her face was fierce and determined, like a beautiful petite warrior from one of Carl's comic books, as she wiped the sweat from her brow with her forearm. At some point, he had stopped breathing altogether.

"Lucky I didn't shoot. You alright?" he asked, finally catching his breath. The fear of having lost her was still twisting in his gut, and now simply seeing her alive, this vision of fierce beauty, was filling him with an acute buzzing heat. He blinked his eyes and still couldn't believe she was standing so proudly in front of him. His hands burned with a distressed desire. He wanted to reach out and touch her to make sure she was real. But he didn't. He felt suddenly paralyzed by her presence.

"I'm fine," she assured him, equally breathless and surprised to see him. She was momentarily transfixed by the intense way he was looking at her. A warm flush spread rapidly across her body. "I wasn't expecting to see you. What are you doing here?"

He drew back from her like he'd been slapped. His eyes were smoldering with want and anger as he studied the whole of her. She don't need you, he thought. It stung.

"You're a piece o' work," he scowled heatedly as her words rankled him. His fingers betrayed him as they still ached to touch her. He wanted to feel the heat of her pressed against him. To feel her blood pulsing under his fingers. At the same time, he wanted to throttle her as he felt the shame of his own impotence rising. She still didn't understand that he would not leave her behind. He couldn't leave her. Whether she needed his help or not. He was angry that she doubted his loyalty. "Here for your scrawny ass. Why else?"

Carol felt another blast of heat through her veins as the intensity of Daryl's voice increased. "But there was a herd, Daryl. It was dangerous. You could've gotten killed!" She raised her hands in the air in frustration before realizing she was still holding onto the knife and waving it around like a lunatic. Furrowing her brow at her mistake, she quickly wiped it on her pants, retracted the blade, and thrust it into her pocket. She didn't understand why Daryl was angry with her or why he would put himself in danger for her. Before she could ask, T-Dog and Rick suddenly appeared, diverting the growing pressure that was building between them.

"Oh, Carol, thank god," Rick gushed in his relief to see her alive.

"Whoa!" T-Dog stated when he took a good look at her. "Look at you."

"T!" She cried joyously, embracing the man when she saw he was alive.

Daryl's stomach tightened at the ease of their embrace. He looked away bitterly and took a few steps inside.

"You alone in here?" Daryl inquired suspiciously as he eyed the empty corridor.

"There were a couple of walkers, but I took care of them," she stated, releasing T-Dog.

"A couple of walkers, huh?" T-Dog smirked, shaking his head in disbelief as he pulled away from Carol. He held her by the shoulders as he looked her up and down again. "Damn, Slayer, you must have nine lives or some shit. What happened?"

"I wasn't sure if you made it," she chattered energetically to T-Dog. "By the time I got over here, I saw Rick and Glenn getting into the Suburban. That's when I saw them coming. The walkers. There were so many. I didn't want to call out and put them in danger. So, I hid upstairs and waited for them to pass. I was just checking to see if the coast was clear so I could make my way back to the house."

Daryl swung around again to glare at her. A hot cyclone of emotions churned in his eyes. His earlier fears for her safety, his guilt for not going on the run, the shame over his desire to have her close, the pain of his obsolescence, his jealousy of T-Dog. But the anger was so much easier for him to feel than the other unpleasant emotions. It made him feel more powerful. He cloaked himself in it like a security blanket.

"On your own?" he upbraided her harshly. His anger drew him a step closer to her. His body was pulsating uncomfortably as he shortened the distance between them.

"Didn't think I had a choice," Carol snapped, facing him squarely. The adrenaline was still pumping through her veins, fueling her defense.

She was surprised by the fire inside her, but she didn't like the tone of Daryl's voice. If he wants a fight, I'll give him one.

"I had to do something," she laid into him. "Should I have waited to be rescued? Would you?"

"That ain't the point," Daryl growled, jutting his face right in front of hers. The sweat rolled thick and heavy down his neck. He was so close to her now he could feel her warmth permeating his skin. He was feverish and on the verge of losing control, of crossing some line. He curled his fingers as if to restrain himself.

"Then what is?" she challenged him, lifting her chin and placing her hand on her hip.

She stared hard into his eyes, still wondering what had set him off, but refusing to back down. She wasn't afraid of Daryl. She wasn't afraid of his anger. She knew he wouldn't hurt her. It never even crossed her mind. Yet, she began to feel a fluttering of nerves in her belly as he pushed himself closer to her. There was something powerful in his eyes that captivated her and made her want to surrender. Her skin began to tingle.

And then briefly, she saw something flash across his eyes, his fear. He's afraid of something. Upon this realization, she began to soften.

The heat radiated from her skin as she asserted herself. Her earthy scent wafted upwards, cutting through his anger. The pain of his own confused yearning bled into his awareness. I want her to need me. But she clearly don't. She was taking care of herself. She was standing up for herself. All at once, the pride he felt for her swelled in his chest. Givin' her grief for keepin' herself alive. It made no sense to him why he would do that. He gazed into her blazing blue eyes and he suddenly felt ashamed of himself and his heated anger. I need her more than she needs me. At that moment, something in her eyes opened to him as if those blue pools had grown deeper. He felt like he was falling.

"What's this really about?" she asked coolly. She had quickly lost the desire to argue.

"Don't matter," he muttered as the rage left him all at once. But the fire still burned hot on his face. He turned away from her to conceal his embarrassment, feeling unexpectedly exposed.

"Hey," T-Dog interrupted the quarrel. "Best not stand around here yakin' and waitin' for bad company to return."

"T's right," Rick agreed, casting a glance around. "It's not safe to stay here. This structure's too damaged. Last thing we need is another cave-in. Let's get back to the others before it gets dark."

Daryl took a breath and nodded. He started for the door, desperate for some fresh air.

"I like the sound of that. But hold on a sec, I just need some water," Carol stated, suddenly aware of her overwhelming thirst. She unhooked the shotgun from her shoulders, shrugged the backpack to one shoulder and pulled out her water bottle. She greedily consumed the remainder of its contents before letting out a satisfied sigh. "Okay, ready when you are." She shoved the empty bottle back in her bag.

They all turned to leave. Rick headed out first and Daryl followed behind him. Carol limped towards the door carrying her bag on one shoulder. The pain she had been blocking earlier was suddenly in full force. She grimaced with every step.

"You okay?" T-Dog asked her.

She was shifting the bag onto her back again when her ankle suddenly gave out. She cried out as the current of pain shot up her leg, dropping the gun once again. Her body wobbled as she lost her balance.

"Gotcha," T-Dog said, stepping in closer as he grabbed a hold of her to steady her.

Daryl turned back when he heard her agonizing moan. His brow creased with worry. "What is it?"

"My ankles. I twisted them earlier. They're just a little sore now," she said, minimizing the pain.

T-Dog shook his head in disagreement. "She can barely walk, man."

Daryl shifted the weight in his feet as he assessed the situation. T-Dog's arms were wrapped around Carol's waist supporting her. Daryl stifled a growl perched low in his chest and bit the inside of his lip as he fought his emotions. Damn stubborn woman don't ever ask for help. Without saying anything, he walked over and slid the bag off her shoulder, letting it fall to the ground. Before Carol could react, he scooped her up in his arms, and carried her outside to the Suburban.

"Okay, sure. I got this. No problem," T-Dog grumbled after them as he picked up the bag and shotgun from the floor.

Daryl couldn't look at Carol as he carried her. He kept his attention focused on the ground ahead of him. Still, the warmth of her against his chest filled him with a strange sense of contentment.

Carol was shocked as he abruptly lifted her off the ground. Her heart even raced a little. She blushed as she recalled her earlier daydream.

"Well, Daryl, you sure know how to sweep a girl off her feet," she teased nervously as he carried her.

"Shut up."