AN: Thank you all for your reviews on the honeymoon chapter. It means so much to hear from you!

OK, so we have a little time jump here as we're advancing a little more into the story. Don't worry, though, it's not a major time jump and there will be plenty more to come!

I hope you enjoy!

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Daryl wasn't really sure, in the weeks after the honeymoon, how his life was supposed to change, but married life to him was pretty much what life had been like before they'd married. He shared his cell with Carol, and he shared all the free time that he had with her, and the rest of the time they spent doing the numerous tasks that needed to be done around the prison.

The fences were fortified. They were almost prepared, stock wise, for the winter and the dropping temperatures were already forcing them to bundle up for any outdoor activities. The game was gone, hiding out until spring, and Daryl was done with hunting for the season.

Today they were preparing for a run, what would likely be one of their last, and Daryl was hanging around near one of the fences finishing a cigarette and watching everyone work out who would be going. He figured that Michonne would go. She'd been adamant since the whole fiasco with the mold that she got out of the prison as often as possible. He didn't know, though, who else would be up for the trip. As far as he knew, the list of supplies that they still had left to get was relatively short.

As Daryl snubbed out his cigarette, he watched as Glenn headed toward the truck, Michonne only feet behind him and both of them put their weapons in the back. Maggie came after them, and Daryl assumed that it was safe to join them and get on the road. The sooner they left, the sooner they'd be back.

As Daryl reached the truck, Maggie was tossing a few of the empty bags and plastic boxes into the back and she crawled in with Michonne. Carol came out, zipping up her coat and walked past Daryl, crawling into the back of the truck.

"Where ya think ya goin'?" Daryl asked, leaning against the back of the open truck.

"Going on the run," Carol said. "We're going to stop at a baby store and load up on supplies," she said. "We need to get prepared."

"No…" Daryl said, "we gonna go get supplies, but you ain't goin' nowhere."

"Daryl!" Carol protested. "It's a small supply run, we're not even going to be gone long, and we need baby things. Judith needs stuff and I need to start preparing for the baby."

"Exactly, Carol, the baby that ya ain't takin' outside these damn fences," Daryl said. "Now either ya figure out a way ta leave the kid here or ya crawl ya happy ass outta that truck!"

Carol glared at him and shifted her weight, hunkering down further in the back of the truck. Daryl felt his blood boil a little. She was going to be defiant. Of all the damn times, now in front of everyone Carol was going to put on a show. She'd had her little moments, here and there, and he kept excusing them thanks to Alice's messages that kept showing up in that blue notebook buried in his clothing drawer where Alice dropped it off whenever she had something to convey to him, but he didn't want Carol going on this run.

"If ya need shit then ya tell Maggie or ya tell Michonne," Daryl said again. "I ain't takin' ya with us an' this truck ain't movin' 'til ya get ya ass out."

"Things can happen here just as easily as they could on a run," Carol argued back. "I was here when the Governor came. I've been here when Walkers have attacked us. Something is just as likely to happen here as it is to happen out there picking up baby things."

"If she wants to go, I'll stay with her," Michonne offered.

"No," Daryl said, shaking his head. "That's my kid an' ya ain't goin' out there," Daryl said. "Outta the truck now or I'm draggin' ya out."

Daryl meant the threat as an empty threat. He had no real intent of having to drag Carol out of the back of the truck. He figured that he would threaten the action and she would sigh and give in. Maybe she'd pout or something, but by the time they got back from the run she'd be in their cell and feeling better. She didn't move, though, she just set her jaw and stared at him.

"If that's how it has to be…" she said.

Daryl sighed. He knew that if he got into the truck he'd never get her over his shoulders without at least severely injuring one of them. Finally, he reached in the truck, around Michonne and grabbed Carol's calf, even as she kicked at him with the other. He tugged on her, trying to get to her pants leg to haul her out of there by her pants, and hoping that he didn't embarrass her by yanking her pants off in front of the whole prison. She kicked at him and he reached the other arm out, grabbing her other calf and pulling her towards him, sliding her alone the bottom of the truck.

He'd thought, perhaps, the action was harmless. He didn't feel like he was really putting much pressure on her legs, he was simply sliding her and her pants were slipping across the metal of the truck.

"Stop it!" Carol commanded, kicking at him again. He laughed a little. She was getting worked up over this whole thing, but soon enough he'd slide her to him and then he could sit her on her feet and send her on her way back inside. "Stop it!" Daryl chuckled a little, he couldn't believe that she was going to act like a kid over this, but apparently she was. He reached up, catching her behind the knee of her left leg and tugged her forward the last little bit, backing up as he pulled to tug her to the side.

It was only then she howled and the look on her face changed entirely.

"Jesus!" Michonne spat suddenly.

Daryl realized, all in an instant, that something had gone terribly wrong with what he had only intended to be a semi-playful removal of his hard headed wife from the back of the truck. He stepped forward, closer to Carol, not sure what was happening. She'd gone, suddenly, as white as a sheet, sitting there on the edge of the truck. Her hand had shot out and her fingers were digging into his arm, but he still didn't know what had happened.

Daryl looked at Maggie and Michonne. Both of them were wide eyed for a moment.

"Don't move," Michonne said.

Daryl stood still. The noises that Carol were making now were something between a sobbing and a choking sound. Daryl watched as Michonne eased around.

"I'm sorry," Daryl stuttered out.

"OK," Michonne said. "You've got to push her back a little. I can't tell if it was a screw or a piece of metal or what it was, but it's lodged in her thigh now…you're going to have to push her back and get her off of it."

Daryl felt Carol's fingers dig into his arms and she sobbed, gasping for air a little around the sobs. He felt sick. He could barely breathe and felt like his chest might collapse. They'd gathered an audience now. Everyone had seen that he'd done this.

"I'm so sorry," Daryl said, not knowing what else to say.

"You need to be sorry later," Michonne said. She's bleeding a lot.

Daryl felt Carol trembling a little. She'd leaned her head forward now and it was resting on his shoulder. He slid his hands down to her waist and stopped a moment. He'd intended to simply lift her up by grabbing her ass before, but now he honestly had no idea where to put his hands. Her left leg hung almost out of the truck, but the right was pushed back some, and now he knew it was because whatever had dug into her had slowed its progression down.

"Tyreese, can you help here?" Michonne called. "I think he's frozen or something."

Tyreese came over, but Daryl didn't want him touching her. He didn't want anyone else's hands on her right now. He wanted to back up in time a few minutes and not insist that she not go on the run. He'd follow her around himself all day just to know that this hadn't happened, and that he hadn't been the one to do it. Even if it wasn't anything at all, even if it wasn't serious, he was never going to forgive himself for this.

He slid his hands down her and tried to get a decent grip on her. He felt the wet warmth on his fingertips and knew it was blood.

"Jesus," he said, knowing Carol's ear was near him, "I'm so damn sorry."

He lifted her a little, pushing her back just a bit and pulling her up. She bit his shoulder hard and howled into him, her arms squeezing around his shoulders.

"You're good," Michonne commanded. "Now go! Get her to Alice!"

Carol's left leg wrapped around Daryl's waist, but he held the right in place with his hand exactly where it had been before. She cried against his neck and he tried not to pay it any attention, rushing as quickly as he could toward the prison. He was afraid, a time or two, that he would drop her and stopped only a second to shift her weight upwards with his right arm, telling himself that he deserved the fact that his muscles were screaming at him.

"Alice!" He yelled as he ran through the prison door, grateful that Carl was holding it open for him. "Where the fuck are you? I need you now!"

Alice came bounding out of some corner of the prison and Daryl stared at her over Carol's shoulder.

"What the fuck happened?" Alice yelled, seeing him there with Carol wrapped around him. He didn't know what it looked like.

"Help!" He yelled. He was almost frantic. His heart was on the verge of exploding and he'd given it permission to do so, but he had to get somewhere to put Carol down first.

"Can you get her to my office?" Alice asked.

Daryl tried to nod, but couldn't. His arms protested that they wouldn't make it that far, but he was determined that they would. He rushed forward, noticing that Carl was apparently set on helping them however he could. The boy stayed a few feet ahead of him opening doors until he finally got her to the office. He put her on the table that Alice had covered with a sheet and she cried out again as soon as he did. He stood there holding her for what seemed like an eternity, but was probably only a few seconds before Alice appeared.

"OK, what the fuck happened because you've left a fucking blood trail all the way here," Alice asked, a little panicked.

Daryl pulled away from Carol a little then and noticed that she was pale. He couldn't bring himself to look her in the face.

"I didn't mean ta do it!" He said.

Alice already had Carol on her side now and she was wrestling with her pants.

"OK, apparently English isn't your first language," Alice said, but help me here.

Daryl hated to touch her. He felt like him touching her had caused this and he didn't know what was happening or how serious it was, but it was all his fault. If he kept touching her, he might make it worse. Alice continued struggling, though, doing her best, and Carol had rested her head on the table, covering her face with her arms. Daryl reacted then, grabbing her pants and maneuvering her enough to get them off.

"Roll her the other way," Alice said, looking briefly at her leg. "Get that other leg up. What the hell happened to her?"

Daryl helped her roll Carol so that Carol was facing away from him. Part of him wanted to go and hold her face and beg her to tell him that she forgave him, and the other part of him didn't want to get anywhere near her for fear of what he might do to her, what he had done already.

"She was threatening to go on the run," Daryl said. "She was in the back of the truck and I pulled her. I was going to slide her off the edge. I was just playin'…somethin' got her."

"Yeah, it got her alright," Alice said. She shoved Daryl out of the way and he didn't mind. She was already working on the wound and he wouldn't blame her if she punched him the face for having done it. He deserved it.

There was a lot of blood, too much in Daryl's opinion. He looked at himself and realized he was stained in it. Glancing at the floor there was some blood trailing into the office. Daryl turned around and walked out of the little office, leaving Alice to do what she had to do. He could hear her talking to Carol, and he could hear Carol crying and the sound almost throbbed in his ears. Melodye rushed by a few minutes later, darting into the office.

Daryl wasn't sure what he should do. He didn't feel like he deserved to stay. He had done this. He'd promised her that he'd never hurt her, and he had. He'd hurt her in front of everyone and he hadn't even meant to. He felt his chest closing up, and he clawed at his neck a little, wishing that he was even wearing anything there tight enough to blame for his trouble breathing. If he could hurt her like this, if he could so carelessly do something so terrible, there was no telling when it might happen again. He could hurt again, and maybe worse. He could hurt the baby. He hadn't meant to do it, but that just meant that he was capable of this without even meaning for it to happen.

Daryl knew he wasn't going to be able to breathe if he didn't get out of the space that he was in. He felt like the prison walls were closing in on him and he had to get out. He ran, almost blindly, back through the prison and made his way out into the yard. The truck was gone, apparently they'd gone on the run. They hadn't waited to see if she was alright…they'd probably wanted to get away from him as quickly as possible. He was capable of hurting her, so he was capable of hurting anyone.

Daryl didn't know where to go, but he needed to go somewhere. He finally took off through the yard and hauled himself up on one of the overturned vehicles they used to get a good view from the lower part of the yard. He didn't know how long he sat there, but he stayed there for a while, just trying to get control of himself and figure out what to do about the situation.

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It was getting late, and Daryl remained on top of his perch. He'd seen the truck return from their run. He'd watched as Carl opened the gates and let the truck pass through. He'd even heard, though it sounded very far away, the sounds of everyone as they unloaded whatever they'd gotten. He didn't intend to come down though. He'd solved none of his problems and he had no idea what to do or say, so it was best that he stay right where he was, and luckily everyone knew it was better to keep their distance.

Or almost everyone…

"A little help here," Daryl heard Alice call. One of her hands flopped around the edge of the truck like a fish out of water. He growled to himself and ignored her. The other one topped the side a few moments later, and he heard her struggling. He hoped she fell of the side and quit trying to climb up. "I'm not a circus performer," she called.

"Get the fuck down, then," Daryl barked. He didn't want to see her. Other than Carol, she was the last person that he wanted to see. She'd probably haul her ass over the side and lecture him about the whole damn thing as if he didn't know how terrible he was for having hurt Carol. He didn't need her to tell him that. He already knew it.

Since he'd been up there he'd heard Merle's voice taunting him nearly the entire time. He couldn't have anything in life because he'd just fuck it up. Anything good he ever had he fucked up, and this was just another situation. He didn't deserve Carol and she didn't deserve to have him around to do stupid shit that would get her hurt and could very well get her killed. He certainly didn't deserve a child and he'd already determined he wasn't going anywhere near the thing. He'd probably fuck up and break its neck the moment he touched it.

"Are you fuckin' kidding me right now? You better crawl your happy redneck ass the fuck over here and get me the rest of the way up or if you ever come down so help me I'll cut your dick off!" Alice called over the side.

Daryl thought to himself that it wouldn't be a terrible thing if she did. His dick had gotten him into a lot of trouble. It had gotten Carol pregnant, and now she was going to have to deal with that on top of knowing that she had let someone like him get her that way.

"Might be a good damn thing," Daryl called back.

"I'm seriously starting to hate you right this minute," Alice called. Daryl sighed. One way or the other he was going to get his nuts handed to him and he might as well get it over with. He deserved it, and nothing she could really say or do would be bad enough for him. He got up and walked across the back of the truck. He reached down, grabbing the two hands that were firmly pressed to the side, and lifted her straight up, hauling her onto the truck, his arms screaming out in protest at the action.

"Fuck you," Daryl spat, when he'd let go of her and she'd dropped to her knees on the side.

"Right back at ya," Alice said.

Daryl made his way back to where he'd been sitting and sat down again. Alice pulled herself to her feet.

"So what? Now you're fucking hiding out here?" She asked, walking around in front of him and pacing back and forth, obstructing his view of the woods beyond the prison.

"You don't know a damn thing, so why don't'cha take ya stupid ass back ta the prison?" Daryl spat.

"Let's see…" Alice said, continuing her pacing and faking a thoughtful action by rubbing at her chin. "What do I know? What do I know?" She stopped dead in front of him then. "I know you've got a nasty fucking temper…I know that your wife has about fifteen stitches in her thigh now, and nobody was there to hold her hand except Mel…I know that you made a big fucking mistake and you didn't mean it…but what I don't know is why you're sitting your sorry ass out here instead of comforting your wife right now."

"I ain't goin' near her," Daryl said. He fished in his pocket and pulled out one of the slightly crushed cigarettes he had and straightened it in his fingers. He lit it.

Alice came over then, and sat nearly in front of him.

"Well that's just fucking lovely," she said. "Would you care to elaborate?"

"Why don't'cha get the fuck off my truck?" Daryl spat.

"Why don't you get your head out of your ass?" Alice asked.

"I fuckin' ripped her damn leg open," Daryl said. He couldn't see why the annoying woman was so hell bent and determined not to understand that he knew what he'd done, and he knew he needed to make sure that the shit didn't happen again.

"Yeah, you did," Alice said. "Shit happens. I sewed her damn leg shut. Now what? Now you park your ass out here on this tetanus trap? And what does she do? She lays there with her sewed up damn leg and wonders why the fuck you didn't care enough to hold her fucking hand while I stitched it closed?"

"I didn't mean ta hurt her," Daryl said.

"Got that memo, waitin' for a new one," Alice said.

"I didn't mean ta fuckin' hurt her, an' I still did, can't ya fuckin' figure that shit out?" Daryl asked.

Alice sat, staring at him.

"When we moved into our first apartment," Alice said, "I shot Melodye with a staple gun in the stomach."

"What?" Daryl asked.

Alice nodded.

"Yep. I was being a horse's ass and I was pretending that I was going to shoot her. I never meant to actually shoot the damn thing, but I did. I was pretty damn sure I killed her. The whole damn way to the hospital, in the ambulance, I cried harder than she did because I was pretty fuckin' sure I'd shot that damn staple into some kind of internal organ or something and she was going to die because I was a big old fucking idiot," Alice said.

"It ain't the same," Daryl said. "I could hurt her again, or I could hurt the baby. People like me, we ain't meant ta be 'round people like her."

"You're right," Alice said. "You're abso-fucking-lutely right. People like you…the kind of people that make fucking mistakes…they should never be around the people they accidentally fucking hurt. That shit's bad juju right there. It's a lot better to hurt someone and then run the fuck away from it."

Daryl snubbed out the butt of his cigarette and flicked it over the side of the truck.

"You know, Mel was hella pissed about that staple," Alice said. "She still brings it up. Of course there's also the fucking time I dropped the dresser on her foot and broke two of her toes. That's one of her favorite fucking stories. She used to tell that thing over Christmas dinner damn near every year. One of my favorites, though, was one night when she was drunk and she was walking down the stairs behind me and she fell. Plowed through me, rolled my ass all the way to damn bottom and I broke my wrist. That was an awesome night."

"Ya got a damn point or we fuckin' skippin' down memory lane?" Daryl asked.

"My point is that shit happens. We hurt the people we love sometimes. It doesn't matter that we hurt them, what matters is that we don't do stupid shit like break their fucking hearts. You see, that's the thing. The broken bones, the cuts and scrapes, that shit hurts, but it heals. You break somebody's heart, though, and that shit won't ever be right again," Alice said. "There's not a doctor alive that fix a broken heart."

"I don't wanta hurt her," Daryl said. "I spent my whole life around assholes that hurt everyone they ever touched…"

"And you don't want to be that asshole?" Alice asked.

Daryl didn't want to answer her. He wanted to push her off the truck, that's what he really wanted to do.

"You're being the bigger asshole right now," Alice said. "Man up…find your fucking jewels. Get in there, say you're fucking sorry, and move on. She'll get over this. You'll owe her a little lovey dovey here and a little kissy wissy there for the fuckin' stitches and the tetanus shot, but she'll get the fuck over it. You pull this shit now, though, and you run away like some little piece of shit, and she'll never get over it." She was quiet for a minute, as was Daryl. Finally she started again and Daryl groaned when she opened her mouth, even before he'd heard what she had to say. "I guess, though, she'll eventually get over it. One of these days someone that's man enough to live up to his shit will come along. He'll be looking for a pretty lady, a cute kid, and he'll be awful fucking glad you didn't have the balls to hang in there."

Daryl shot up then, about the time that Alice took to her feet. He was furious at the idea that some man would come into the prison…that he would even think of touching Carol…of touching his kid.

"Shut your fuckin' mouth!" Daryl growled. "Ain't nobody fuckin' touchin' her!"

"Oh, but he will," Alice said. "But it won't matter to you, because you'll have kept your distance, right? Stayed the fuck out of the way so you didn't accidentally fuck up. And he'll fuck up too, but he'll have the balls to get the fuck over that shit."

Daryl wanted to kill her, and obviously she knew it. She stepped back, keeping her eye on the edge of the truck.

"I just don't wanta do it again," Daryl said. The anger seeped out of him, slowly, as he realized that Alice was more than prepared for him to come at her. He didn't want to hurt her either, not really. He didn't want to her and he didn't want to hurt Carol. "I'd be better off on my own."

"But you're not on your own anymore," Alice said. "You married her, didn't you? You said for better or for worse, or whatever the hell hillbilly variation of that you chose. In about four months, you're going to be a daddy, Daryl. There's going to be another living being on this planet that exists because you put it here with Carol. There's only two ways you'll ever be alone again, and that's if something happens to both of them or you pussy out and run the fuck away. I might have thought you were a lot of things since I got here, but I never figured you for a pussy."

Daryl watched her as she started to the side of the truck, trying awkwardly to slide down. That was it? That was all she had to say? She wasn't going to yell at him for what he did or point out how fucked up it was that he'd tried to drag Carol out of the truck in the first place? She was just going to yell at him for trying to stay far enough away not to hurt Carol again and then try to drop her annoying ass over the side of the truck.

Daryl didn't want to abandon Carol and the baby. That was the last thing he wanted. He'd been reading the fucking book. He'd tried to listen to every damn word of advice that Alice gave him. He wanted to do everything right for them both. He wanted to make everything perfect for Carol, and he wanted his kid to have the best life that it could have. He didn't want to hurt either of them, but he didn't want to abandon them either.

"Stop for a fuckin' minute, would ya?" Daryl said.

Alice stopped her ill planned descent, hanging halfway over the side. Daryl walked over and caught her arm, holding her there.

"Ya really think that she's gonna forgive me?" Daryl asked. "Ya think I really ain't gonna fuck this up?"

"I know she's going to forgive you," Alice said. She grunted. "She's been asking me where the fuck you are and I've been lying to her. She thinks you're helping me with some big project, but I haven't thought far enough ahead to know what the hell we're doing…and the only way you're going to fuck it up is if you keep being an asshole."

Daryl sighed.

"Fine, I'm gonna try ta talk ta her, but it's on your damn head if I was right an' I fuck this shit up. I'ma kill ya if ya talked me into goin' back in there just ta make her life worse," Daryl said.

Alice grunted.

"You're going to kill me anyway if you don't let go of my arm," Alice said. "Shit's crushing my ribs…"

Daryl realized that she was pinned in a pretty awkward position. He didn't know what else to do, so he grabbed up both her arms, pulled her up a little, and dropped her over the side. She landed with a thud and he bent down, jumping off the back beside her.

"I fucking hate you," Alice said, lying in the grass.

"Feelin's pretty damn mutual," Daryl said, reaching down and hauling her up to her feet.

He started back toward the prison, hoping Alice was right and hoping that he could somehow make this up to Carol. More than that, though, he hoped that somehow he could keep from becoming the man that he was most afraid of being, and that he would never have to know that someone he loved got caught in his wake. Today's accident may have been minor, but Daryl was under no false impression that things couldn't ever get worse, and that's what terrified him more than anything about himself.