AN: Here we are, another chapter here.

I know some people are into the whole over-the-top violence way of handling any conflict. I'm not really that way, though, most of the time. I think that it may take time, but people can work out some of their issues, especially when they have to live together in a small society.

Of course, I do hope you enjoy the chapter! Please let me know what you think.

1111111111111111111111111111111111111111111

"A walk with the Wildman," Ezekiel mused. "You've been rather quiet this morning. I can't help but sense some tension. Perhaps I should have taken care to inform someone where we were going."

"Don't worry," Daryl offered. "Most the people that walk with me come back. Besides—ain't like we leavin' Alexandria."

"You're suggesting that, if I were to need assistance, someone might hear my cries for help."

Daryl rolled his eyes and shook his head. They were almost to the farthest removed corner of Alexandria. He had full intentions, when they were done here, of looking a few houses over to see if there might be something Carol might like—he was still trying to coax her to consider a home that could be all their own for their little family.

"Listen—cut the king shit, OK?" Daryl said. "I brought your ass out here to talk to you man-to-man, not nutcase to normal fuckin' person. Besides, I know it's all some bullshit act. I don't want to talk to a fake ass king. I want to talk to a real ass man."

Ezekiel's expression fell while he clearly considered Daryl's words. He nodded his head.

"What can I do for you, Daryl?" Ezekiel asked.

"You put your hands on my wife," Daryl said. "You hurt her. Coulda hurt the baby, too."

Ezekiel laughed nervously to himself and shook his head.

"I didn't…"

"Don't you deny it," Daryl barked quickly. "I saw the bruises myself. She's still wearin' 'em."

"I was going to say that—I didn't mean to hurt her at all," Ezekiel said. He shook his head. "I would never hurt Carol. Not on purpose. She knows that."

"I don't want to hear about what Carol knows about men meaning to or not meaning to hurt her," Daryl said. "If you know her as good as you say you do, you'll know why that doesn't sit well for me."

"If you're suggesting that I purposefully injured Carol in keeping with some kind of systematic abuse, I'm going to have to stop you before you get any further," Ezekiel said.

Daryl didn't miss the tone of warning that Ezekiel had employed. He felt his body respond to it—the primal response, perhaps, to a threat.

"Please don't forget that your wife was, only some short time ago, my wife," Ezekiel said.

It felt very much like a slap. It was meant to dig at Daryl. Daryl heard it in his tone and he thought, for a moment, he saw it flash in the man's eyes.

Ezekiel, just then, was not a king. He wasn't pretending to be a king. If Daryl hadn't known any better, he would have said that he was just another Wildman, as Ezekiel had nicknamed him, squaring up to defend his territory.

Of course, maybe they were all Wildmen, of sorts, these days.

"She mighta called herself married to you for the show of it," Daryl said, "but she was my woman, even then, and you know it. Now she's my wife. Mine."

Ezekiel looked amused, but Daryl could tell it wasn't true amusement. He felt a bristling between them. Carol wanted things to go pleasantly. She wanted peace and tranquility between everyone. It was important to her that they all get along because she cared for Ezekiel as a friend and as Henry's father.

Daryl wanted things to be peaceful between them, as well. He also knew, though, that sometimes things didn't get peaceful between two males of any species until, first, they had been at least a little unpeaceful—especially where mates and offspring were concerned.

"Yes—she was your woman," Ezekiel said. "We both know what made her your woman. We both know what she went out there for. What you offered her in the woods in a dirty tent. We both know where and how you gave her that baby she's carrying. But we both know, too, that it was me that you sent her back to. It was me that—watched her pining for years over someone who didn't love her enough to come in out of the rain and put a roof over her head. A man who didn't love her enough to tell her he loved her more than his freedom."

Rather than react immediately, Daryl let himself live with Ezekiel's words for a moment. He chewed them over. He tasted the bitterness in them, but he recognized, too, that part of the bitterness he was tasting came from the fact that he hadn't yet come to peace with himself and his actions. Finally, he nodded his head.

"Yeah—you right," Daryl said. "You ain't all wrong. I'll give it to you. I was a son of a bitch for—havin' her come and keep me company all those years. Sendin' her back to the Kingdom. Back to you. When I thought it was time for her to go back and sleep indoors. Get some real rest. Eat like she should. Be protected by the walls, and the fences, and the guards. I was a son of a bitch for not tellin' her how I felt. For not—doin' sooner what I done when…when I knew the baby was there. I was a son of a bitch—you ain't wrong about that. But I didn't do it because I didn't love Carol. I did it—because I loved her. I've loved her since—since before any of us even knew you were alive. I've loved her since…"

"Sophia," Ezekiel interjected. "You've loved her since Sophia."

They held eyes for a moment. Ezekiel would know Carol's story. She would have shared it with him. It would have been the only way that she would have felt safe really sharing a home with him at the Kingdom. She wouldn't have wanted to live forever under the mask she sometimes wore.

As a result, Ezekiel would know some of Daryl's story because, for a long time, their stories had become unmistakably intertwined.

"Before that," Daryl said. "Damn near since I met her."

Ezekiel's expression changed. It softened. His body relaxed and his posture changed. Daryl no longer felt the threat, in the air, of another male about to circle him looking for weakness.

"Then why did you make her wait so long?" Ezekiel asked. His question sounded sincere. Daryl felt his own guard slipping a little.

"Asked myself the same question a thousand times," Daryl said. "You ain't doin' nothin' original by askin' it."

"Did you ever answer it?" Ezekiel asked.

Daryl chewed his lip. He shrugged his shoulders, feeling them tense under all the truths that he carried inside of him.

"Felt like the Kingdom was safe. Comfortable. More than I could offer her."

It was true, but it wasn't the whole truth. Daryl left out all the feelings he'd had about the fact that maybe he couldn't be enough for Carol in some way. Maybe she deserved better than him, really. He left out all the insecurities that he'd battled his whole life, but which he'd had to battle even harder against since he'd first come to realize that he loved Carol—and that he loved her enough to let her go, if that was what was best for her.

"What changed?" Ezekiel asked. "When you took her out of the Kingdom into the house—she wasn't as safe as she'd been."

Daryl shook his head.

"She weren't," Daryl said. "But—she is now. Alexandria's safe. We'll make it even safer as time goes on. Stronger. We'll build even better walls."

"And Carol will live the rest of her life in a basement?" Ezekiel asked.

"She could have any house she wanted," Daryl said. "Still can. Can have her pick of the whole damn place."

"But she prefers the basement?"

"For now," Daryl said.

"I gave her a kingdom, Daryl. Some of it might have been make believe, and I may have created it, but it was real enough. I made her a queen. I gave her a kingdom. She was loved and cared for as a queen should be. I made sure she was safe, and comfortable, and, yes, even happy. I gave her a family again. I loved her enough that I let her have her time with her Wildman in the woods, Daryl. I let her have everything she wanted or needed. And I was prepared to raise that baby for my own from the first moment that her mother felt unwell and recognized that she was there. I was prepared to never make any distinction between her and my own flesh."

"You did," Daryl said. "You did all that. And for that? I thank you. I do. I thank you for every kind thing you've ever done for Carol—and for me, by extension. I thank you for takin' care of her. For givin' her that kingdom and that family. She loves Henry every bit as much as if he were her own flesh and blood, like you say. I won't never deny how much I thank you for that—all of it. Hell—maybe it's the reason that I wanted to walk all the way over here and have a conversation with you—talk things out—instead of goin' with my first instinct and chokin' the fuckin' life outta you the minute I saw you this morning."

Ezekiel looked slightly taken aback, and Daryl found a satisfaction he hadn't expected there. He laughed to himself and helped himself to a cigarette from the pack in his pocket. He lit it and offered one to Ezekiel, just to be friendly, but Ezekiel waved it away from the distance they'd naturally seemed to establish between them.

"Listen—I don't know what you think I'm pissed about," Daryl said, "but the fact of the matter is that what I'm pissed about is pretty damn simple to comprehend. You hurt my wife. You coulda hurt my child. You bruised my wife's arms. You bruised her belly. What's worse than that, though, is that you made her feel like she had to apologize and explain how the hell she got fuckin' hurt. And I don't wanna hear her fuckin' explainin' why it's her damn fault somebody hurt her. If you can't understand that shit? Then you don't know Carol. You don't know her story. And you aren't half the man she thinks you are."

"I didn't mean to hurt her," Ezekiel said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "I didn't. Carol knows that."

"I don't wanna hear what Carol knows or don't know about what man is allowed to hurt her. I can't deal with that shit, OK? Because—whatever the hell she knows or she don't know? I know that you don't get to just hurt her and say it's OK and that's it."

"I'm not trying to wipe it away," Ezekiel said. "I'm not. I hurt her. I'm sorry for what happened. I am. I'll apologize to you. I'll apologize to her. I reacted. Maybe I shouldn't have, but I did. She hit me. Went for her knife. I was protecting myself."

"And you gougin' her damn stomach? She cried somethin' pathetic over them bruises this mornin' when she realized they were worse than they were even last night," Daryl said.

"It was an accident," Ezekiel said. "Adrenaline. I guess—I'm stronger than I think I am sometimes. Surely you understand that there are times when we are less graceful than we mean to be."

"Don't you start that king shit," Daryl said, pointing at Ezekiel. "I can't talk to your ass when you're like that."

"Force of habit," Ezekiel said, laughing quietly to himself. "Not intentional. I assure you."

"She don't really like people touchin' her belly at all," Daryl said. "She's real protective of the baby. Real protective. Worries about her night and day. People touchin' her belly makes her nervous, she said. She don't gotta explain it, though. If she don't like it, she don't like it. So—stop doin' it."

"She's never said anything…" Ezekiel said.

"She don't gotta say shit," Daryl said. "I'm sayin' it for her. Don't touch it!"

Ezekiel set his jaw like he might respond, but then he relaxed it.

"Fine," he said.

Daryl was surprised at his quick agreement.

"Fine?"

"Fine—if Carol doesn't like to be touched…I'll give my apologies to her when I see her," Ezekiel said.

"Don't you try to guilt her into nothin'," Daryl warned.

Ezekiel laughed to himself.

"Do I make you so nervous?" He asked. "Does my presence threaten you so much?"

"I don't give a shit about your presence," Daryl said. "One way or another."

"Is it that—you really fear me…or do you fear that you're not giving her everything you want her to have, Daryl? Do you think—she'll change her mind? Are you afraid that…just like you came and took my family and destroyed my home, the same thing might happen to you?"

Daryl's stomach twisted. He narrowed his eyes at Ezekiel.

"I ain't afraid of you, and you don't make me nervous," Daryl said.

"I'm man enough to admit that—it's a hard blow," Ezekiel said. "Losing everything. Your wife leaves you for another man." He laughed to himself. "It's even harder when you have to see it. Accept it. Live with it. Even though I always knew she loved you, I guess a part of me always hoped. And when she found out she was expecting, she needed my comfort more than ever. I guess I let myself get a little carried away with false hope…"

"I guess you did," Daryl said.

"My home was empty without her," Ezekiel said. "And then—to make her happy—my son left."

"He woulda left anyway," Daryl said. "Eventually. Had to grow up."

Ezekiel laughed to himself.

"Someday, you'll see that the knowledge of those particular facts of life doesn't make their reality smart any less." Ezekiel shook his head. "It isn't always easy having to always be the bigger man."

Daryl ignored the fact that some of Ezekiel's words had struck home inside of him. He would think about it, later. He'd pick it apart, perhaps, in the comfort and safety of the basement that Ezekiel might ridicule for not being a palace.

For now, though, he didn't want to acknowledge it.

"You can say that again," Daryl said. He pointed his finger at Ezekiel, again, and left him with a warning before he walked away to look at some of the open houses. "Don't touch her. You hurt her again—even on accident? And I won't ask you to go on no damn walk next time."