A/N: An early Christmas present for you guys :) I hope everyone has a great Christmas (if you celebrate) and a wonderful holiday time. Also sending out hugs to anyone who is struggling during this holiday season due to mental or physical illness or trauma, or whose families/homes aren't a safe space for them. Just. . . so many hugs. Especially with the way things are with Covid.

So this chapter and the remaining ones were originally meant to be just one chapter but because of how things are with me at the moment, I've split them into four so that I have more chance of getting a chapter out each month. I've always struggled with PMDD but lately it's gotten really bad, to the point where I'm only semi-functional for about a week a month. So I'm squeezing all the writing/proofreading I would normally do in a month into that one week. Which doesn't always work out if my chronic pain or insomnia escalates during that week. So at the moment it's very hard to predict how regular updates will be.

These chapters are rather heavy because they're centered around some of the long-term effects of abuse/trauma and the ways complex-ptsd affects you in terms of thinking and feeling. I don't think it will be too triggering because it's very much centered on the aftermath and not the abuse itself but as always be safe guys.

[Trigger Warning: reference to child abuse (sexual and emotional), reference to self-harm]

'In Reichian theory, what is called the eye block engenders a depression of all bodily functions and a systemic reduction of energy available to the organism. To the degree that there is contraction and disengagement in the eyes, we do not see the reality of our environment. When we are not present to who or what is directly in our vision, we live in fantasy. For example, if a child is bitten by a dog, all dogs may become trauma triggers. If the adult that child becomes sees all dogs as dangerous, that individual is not using his or her eyes. He or she is not able to distinguish in the present moment which dogs are dangerous and which dogs are not. The ideal of seeing the world accurately is related to the process of being present, in the moment and in the body.'

- Healing Developmental Trauma: How Early Trauma Affects Self-Regulation, Self-Image, and the Capacity for Relationship by Laurence Heller

The peaceful silence didn't linger for long. Somewhere between Yumiko's second and third freckle expedition, Magna's voice ruptured the quiet.

"Daryl stole my knife, didn't he?"

There was no point in denying it so she occupied herself with tracing a thumb over Magna's stomach, knowing that the action tended to soothe her - though, so far, Yumiko couldn't detect any anger or distress in her voice. A promising sign. "You'll get it back."

"Damn right I will," Magna muttered darkly.

She paused, thumb halting in its mission. "You're not allowed to kill him."

Magna grumbled, interrupting her actions as she shifted in Yumiko's hold before settling once more and stealing her hand for herself. When she began the meticulous process of examining each individual finger, Yumiko knew it would be some time before she got that hand back - if experience was anything to go by. "You never let me do anything fun."

She snorted, lips hinting at a smile. "Killing Connie's boyfriend shouldn't be considered fun."

The response was immediate. "He's not her boyfriend."

"Are you pouting?"

"No."

She narrowed her eyes, wishing she could see Magna's face to be certain. Though, Yumiko felt reasonably sure about what she would find. "Yes, you are." She couldn't contain her growing grin, amused by her girlfriend's obstinacy when it came to this issue. "Come on, she could have done worse."

Magna grumbled under her breath a moment before reluctantly giving in. "I suppose he's better than Eugene."

"Mm." She didn't know the man well enough yet to say whether or not Magna was correct in that opinion - though, Rosita was friends with him and she trusted the other woman's judgment more than most - but, nonetheless, it seemed like progress on the Daryl front. She'd take it. "Or Negan."

Magna snorted. "Could you imagine?"

"You'd have my permission to get stabby then."

She chuckled, her hold on Yumiko's hand turning playful. "Nah. Wouldn't be necessary. Connie's got too much sense to go for him."

"One would hope." Yumiko allowed them to linger in their amusement for a moment before she lowered her voice, gravity returning. She knew the issue at hand was far from dealt with. "He won't hurt her, Magna. Not in the way you fear."

Her words gained no response.

"Magna?"

She sighed. "Everyone loved my dad. Everyone loved Brian. No-one thought they were capable of doing what they did. They didn't see it. I didn't see it - at least, not with him." She huffed. "I was so sure he was safe. But he wasn't. Most people aren't."

Yumiko didn't know a great deal about what the relationship between Magna and Lawson had been like, she rarely spoke of him outside of his murder and what he'd done to Maisie - and even those brief mentions were exceedingly vague. But there'd been a few stray comments over the years that had made Yumiko wonder. . .

Whether Maisie wasn't the only one in that family who Lawson had become far too close with.

She didn't think he'd abused Magna. Not sexually, at least. After a few unsettling incidents last year, Yumiko had formed some worrying theories but Magna had put them to rest - though not in a way that had brought much comfort. Even so, Lawson had never had to touch Magna in order to ruin her life, and Yumiko knew the pain of that betrayal still lingered.

She'd trusted him.

(at a time when she'd barely trusted anyone)

And he'd manipulated her. Manipulated everyone.

That much had been obvious from what little Magna had said. The research Yumiko had done on her case back when she'd still been in prison only supported the fact.

She knew that it was common for child predators to groom the families of their chosen victims, to build a sense of trust and security in order to maintain access to the child - to avoid detection. And Magna was the person Maisie had always been closest to. Her protector.

It would only be smart to ensure that she remained blind to this particular threat.

What steps might Lawson have taken in order to achieve that blindness? To garner the trust of a girl who refused to trust?

Yumiko frowned, not liking the direction of her thoughts. But she didn't voice her suspicions. Not now. That was a conversation for another time.

And it was one Magna would have to bring up herself.

Thirteen years had taught her that much.

"The both of them were just so good at seeming good," Magna breathed, voice shaky with the weight of disbelief. The kind time could never console. "The best. But they weren't. They weren't good." Her voice dropped. "And nobody could see it but me."

Except you couldn't see it. Not with him.

Not until it was too late.

And I know that's what haunts you the most. The thing you can't let go of.

When Magna's eyes had finally been opened to who Lawson truly was, so many hadn't believed her. Hadn't believed Maisie. Not even a guilty plea had changed that.

Yumiko's heart fell and she stroked a hand through Magna's hair, wishing not for the first time that she could go back in time and prevent those men from ever being a part of her life. But she couldn't. All she could do was help her pick through the wreckage of their destruction now - and hope that it was enough. "Daryl's not your father. Or Brian."

"I know," she ground out, frustration leaking into her tone as her grip on Yumiko's hand turned tight. "But what if he's not good, either?"

Are any of us good anymore?

Yumiko thought she might have the answer - and she hated it.

Still, as bloodied as all their hands were, she doubted Daryl was the kind of threat Magna expected him to be. He might hurt Connie - sometimes that was inevitable in relationships - but she couldn't see him ever turning abusive.

(many had probably thought the same about Mark Carter and Brian Lawson, she reluctantly admitted)

Yumiko understood, though, what it was like to have the wool pooled over your eyes. To not see the wolf through sheep's clothing.

How that could fracture your trust.

Not just in other people but in yourself.

(especially in yourself)

'The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist.'

It hadn't been the same for Yumiko, of course. She'd had the life experience to know that Nicole was the exception and not the rule. Her trust had been fractured - but she'd possessed the memories and tools required to rebuild it.

Magna hadn't.

Every extension of trust was a perilous risk that life had given her every reason not to take.

Yumiko frowned, not sure what she could say to disabuse Magna of her fear. "I think that he's had years to show that side of himself to the people here, and he hasn't. There's a reason everyone trusts him. There's a reason Connie trusts him."

"I know." Nails dug into her skin for a moment before Magna realized that it was indeed Yumiko's skin and not her own that she was harming. She released her with a jolt. "But I can't just shut this part of me off. Okay? I've tried."

Yumiko could remember what her psychologist had told her about the brain on trauma. The physiological processes hardwired into their very being.

The amygdala could be a right little prick, bouncing all over the place and screaming that the sky was falling just because there'd been a slight change in the wind. It had a very important job - determining whether something was a threat to one's survival and acting accordingly. This process was automatic and instantaneous. The second the amygdala sensed a threat, it would be off, sprinting to alert the hypothalamus and the brain stem of the sky's oncoming collision with the ground. This in turn garnered the aid of the stress-hormone system and the autonomic nervous system, achieving a whole-body response to the 'threat'.

Unfortunately, the amygdala wasn't all that discerning about what threats warranted attention - or even what could be considered a threat at all - and just so happened to be ever so much quicker at deciphering messages than the frontal lobes - the more rational part of the brain.

It would yell bloody murder, whether it had proper grounds to or not.

It didn't matter whether Daryl was a threat or not if something about him had triggered Magna's amygdala into believing he was. No amount of insight or rationality would get in the way of that alarm. When your whole body was screaming danger, you weren't going to listen to the little voice inside your head whispering alternatives - nor any of the voices outside of it.

The brain on trauma wasn't rational, refused to be.

Yumiko knew that from experience.

It had taken her years not to panic when the stench of disinfectant filled up her nostrils. No amount of knowing how harmless that smell was could override the conviction in her bones that the world had grown inescapably perilous. Even well into adulthood, Yumiko's stomach would flip and her hands would sweat when she opened up a bottle to clean.

Triggers were triggers for a reason.

And, unfortunately, so many of Magna's triggers lived inside people.

Most of them men.

"I know," Yumiko murmured, lips turning down as she searched around for her hand, regaining it once more. Magna resisted her efforts a moment before sighing and allowing Yumiko to guide that hand back to her waist, where she sealed it in a protective hold. "I know."

She knew that one of the reasons Magna had warmed so quickly to Aaron and Jerry, out of all the people at Hilltop and Alexandria, was because she had seen the way they were with their children and judged them accordingly.

Magna had a lot of respect for people who were good to their kids. Especially if they were men.

Perhaps if she'd seen some of the interactions between Daryl, Judith, and RJ that Yumiko had been witness to, she might be a little less reluctant to trust him.

Or maybe it wouldn't have made a difference. Not with Connie's wellbeing hanging in the balance. And not after the words he'd spat at Magna, both the other day and when Kelly had gone missing. Her girlfriend had yet to relay the details of that particular incident - and Yumiko knew better than to expect she ever would - but hearing it from Kelly had set her rage to boiling point.

All you're good for is talking shit.

Even now, Yumiko had to take a few steadying breaths to avoid clenching her fists - which would inevitably lead to digging her nails into Magna's flesh the same way she'd just done to her.

And the last thing Yumiko wanted to do - the last thing she ever wanted to do - was cause Magna pain.

She doubted Daryl bulldozing over her girlfriend's self-worth had aided in the conflict between them that night. Yumiko couldn't help but wonder whether it had only exacerbated Magna's feelings of self-loathing and doubt, catapulting her defensiveness into overdrive.

She knew when Magna was cornered, she lashed out - and both she and Daryl had done some cornering that day.

She also knew that things likely would have unfolded in the same manner regardless - because the secret Magna held in her chest had cornered her more than Yumiko or Daryl ever could.

That confrontation had been building for months.

Years.

Whatever had lit the final match, those flames were always going to rise up eventually.

Combust.

('Stupid. Selfish.'

'I was going to say a mistake.'

'Yeah, but you were thinking it.')

A part of Yumiko couldn't believe that Magna believed that she thought so little of her - that she had always thought so little of her, right back to the day they'd first met.

('For thirteen years that's how you've looked at me.')

The other part of her found it entirely too plausible and wondered why she was even surprised.

Magna had a critic in her head that was more loyal and constant than any person she'd ever had in her life. Even thirteen years of friendship was no match for it.

When the battle lines were drawn, Yumiko knew that she would never have a chance of winning. That against such a force, she was little more than a mere whisper.

It didn't matter how many times Yumiko pointed out all the good things in Magna, all the things she loved and admired. She was only one person, one incapable of competing with the litany of times the world had set out to expose all the 'bad' things in Magna. For every compliment Yumiko gave, there were a dozen insults from the past thirsting to defeat it. The voice inside Magna clung to those insults, repeated them in a vacuum, slowly tearing away at what little remained of her self-esteem.

Yumiko had witnessed it happening too many times to remain oblivious to the process.

And she knew which voice Magna would believe.

The same voice that told her Yumiko could never love her. That one day, eventually, she would tire of her and leave. Walk away and never come back.

Yumiko had been fighting that voice for years and, whilst some headway had been made, there was still no question of who would come out on top.

It was the hardest part of being in a relationship with Magna.

Because nothing hurt worse than seeing the person you loved more than anything else tear themselves down, again and again - unable to do a damn thing about it.

Yumiko had been powerless so many times in her life. But it wasn't until she'd met Magna that she was given a form of powerlessness that made her furious.

She had never felt such rage in her helplessness before.

(the closest she had ever come was when Nicole had-)

But now that door was unlocked - Magna had unlocked it for her - and rage was all she could feel.

But only when she was powerless.

Only when she felt things spinning out of control.

She wondered whether that was how Magna felt.

Only all the time.

(no wonder some days she scratched at her skin until it bled)

Yumiko released a breath, tightening her hold as she anchored herself to the feeling of her girlfriend's breaths, that steady rise and fall she'd learned by heart. "And I know it doesn't help - what he said to you."

She flinched, but didn't reject the claim.

Once you made an enemy out of Magna, it was hard to reverse course.

But the knife stealing was promising. If she was willing to test him, then she was willing to accept a passing of that test.

If he passed.

Yumiko was reasonably confident that he would - even if he was approaching the challenge with no small amount of reluctance.

Magna shrugged. "I've been called worse on the playground. Dude's got nothing on little church girls. Or middle schoolers." She shuddered theatrically and Yumiko couldn't help the faint upturn of her lips. "None of whom could compete with my dad. I got way worse shit from him before I could even understand what he was saying."

Yumiko frowned, not liking the dismissive levity of her tone. But it was something that so often accompanied tales from Magna's past, as though that cruelty didn't hurt. Not then and certainly not now.

But Yumiko knew it did. Knew it had always hurt. And perhaps always would.

She wished Magna didn't feel the need to hide that from her.

(or perhaps she wasn't. Perhaps the person she was really hiding it from was herself)

Silence lingered between them a moment before Magna's voice rose again. "Besides, I would have been pissed too, if someone we'd helped stole some of our supplies."

"Mm." Yumiko was relieved that she'd come to at least that understanding. Would make fixing things between her and Daryl a hell of a lot easier. "But it was still uncalled for. And you have a right to be upset about it."

Silence greeted her words and, knowing that she was unlikely to get anything more from her, Yumiko let the subject rest. There was only so much of her vulnerabilities being exposed that Magna could handle in a single go.

One day, Yumiko hoped she wouldn't see them as a weakness.

Not that she could really talk. Yumiko had a habit of covering up her own wounds too. Not because she saw them as weak - that was a dogma she'd never bought into - but because she hated to see her pain reflected in the eyes of others.

She hated to be a burden.

And it was a feeling she hadn't quite been able to overcome, even after decades of trying. Now, she no longer tried at all.

Yumiko wouldn't lie if someone confronted her directly about something. Nor would she hide the truth from another person if that truth involved them. But there were things she wasn't comfortable discussing.

There were also some things that she couldn't discuss. Things that were too painful, too much. Things better left out of sight, out of mind. Far, far away where they posed the least risk of doing harm - and there was a lot of harm to risk.

It was one of the reasons she'd never pushed Magna to talk about her own demons, no matter how much she wanted to.

Yumiko understood the danger of words.

"You know he's moved in with Judith and RJ, right?"

For a moment, she could only stare at the back of Magna's head. "To look after them."

"Right." Though the response wasn't argumentative, she didn't sound entirely convinced. Yumiko could feel the uneasiness in the planes of her body, hear the absence of steady breathing.

She sighed, tightening her hold. "He's the closest thing either of them still has to a parent. Besides, they're not alone with him. Maggie and Hershel are there as well."

Magna said nothing.

"He's not them."

Silence was her only answer.

Yumiko knew there was no point in continuing, not really. No reasoning with her on this. For the moment, Magna's paranoia was too strong for any headway to be gained.

Personally, Yumiko would be far more concerned about Negan.

A man who had once been - and could still possibly be - a sexual predator. And whose social circle currently consisted of a teenage girl and a literal child.

And that was without taking in his minor predilection for bashing people's heads in with a baseball bat.

But no-one trusted Negan.

And everybody trusted Daryl.

(so Magna had elected herself to be the person who wouldn't)

In fact, Daryl's apparent trustworthiness and likability probably only made him more suspicious in her eyes, not less so.

Another wolf with wool for fur.

Yumiko pursed her lips, resolving to let the subject drop.

For now.

'Most practicing psychologists realize that insight does not necessarily equal therapeutic change. Personally, I believe that insight doesn't equate to change at all: understanding makes no practical difference. When we look at psychological problems and disorders through a trauma lens, it becomes clear why. In other words, if my client understood that he felt and behaved the way he did because of what happened to him when he was four years old and that his brain formed intentions that made him feel and behave like this, does this mean that he would be able to stop feeling and behaving like that? Absolutely not! Why not? Because of the force of traumatic memories and the neurobiological processes that are involved when they are triggered.'

- Looking Through the Trauma Lens by Susan Sluiter

A/N:

The quote that Yumiko thinks of is from the movie the 'The Usual Suspects', which adapted it from a quote by Charles Baudelaire.