AN: Here we are, another chapter here.

I hope you enjoy! Please let me know what you think!

111

Daryl looked up when he heard the approach of someone. It was Sophia. He stopped his chopping, dropped the ax for a moment to rest his tired muscles, and purposefully stretched his back.

"Your ma know you're out here?" Daryl asked.

"Of course," Sophia said.

"Just so—you didn't sneak away," Daryl said.

"She's been watching nearly every move I've made. I've been handling myself for a long time, Daryl," Sophia said.

"I guess I know that," Daryl said. "I guess your ma knows it, too. Don't make a damn bit of difference, though." Daryl sighed and faced the girl—she was nearly a woman, but he just couldn't think of her as such. "Listen—you wanna do me a favor, even though you don't owe me one?"

Sophia half-shrugged and then nodded. Daryl nodded in response.

"I get it," he said. "I do. Better than you think I do. I was lost when I was about the age you was. Maybe a little younger. Scared. Pissed off. All of it."

"But you were found," Sophia said.

"No," Daryl said. "I weren't. I found myself. Got home on my own. Kinda like you, at the end of it all—difference is, you had people lookin' for you. Weren't nobody lookin' for me. Hell—my brother's all the hell I had at that time, and they had him away at juvy. Nobody was lookin' for my ass. Prob'ly nobody knew I was ever gone. They didn't care. Difference is—we looked for you. I looked for you. I'da fuckin'…I'da fuckin' burned down the state of Georgia if I'da thought it would help me find you…get you back to her." Daryl shook his head at her. "Don't hurt her, Sophia. She's hurt enough, OK? For a whole lifetime. And—I ain't sayin' that you didn't hurt…that you ain't hurtin' even now. I'm just sayin' don't hurt her. If you don't—she'll give you everything, down to her very last breath, just to make you feel better."

Sophia's chin quivered slightly. She crossed her arms across her chest and hugged herself. She was her mother's daughter. Brown eyes aside—and the soul of those eyes was familiar, even if the color was foreign—there didn't appear to be much of Ed even blended into her visible DNA. Of course, maybe that was for the better. Daryl had always been told he looked like his mother, whereas Merle had looked like their father, and maybe that had made some difference, somewhere.

"I don't want to hurt her," Sophia said.

"I know that," Daryl said. "But sometimes we do shit we don't want to do by accident. You can take that as gospel fuckin' truth if you don't know it already."

Daryl lit a cigarette for himself. Around them, he heard nothing—no people and no Walkers—though he'd become pretty adept at keeping an ear out for both, no matter what he was doing. He imagined that Sophia had, too.

Sophia was looking at him, arms crossed across her chest, with that familiar line between her brows that he knew well from her mother. He laughed to himself.

"You look just like her, you know that?" Daryl said.

Sophia stared at him for a moment. She softened.

"Nobody's ever told me that," Sophia said. "Not really—Mama always said I looked like…like my daddy."

"You wanna look like him?" Daryl asked.

Sophia shook her head.

"You don't," Daryl said. "She prob'ly just told you that to make his ass happy. Seemed like the kind that would need some shit like that."

"You didn't like him," Sophia said.

"I ain't gonna speak ill of your old man," Daryl said. "Hell—I don't know what the hell you remember about him or…"

"I remember, Daryl," Sophia said. "I remember—everything. More than she probably knows that I remember. I still have nightmares about him—about the things he did and said."

Daryl's stomach twisted. It squeezed. He understood.

"Yeah," he said. "Guess that's another thing you an' me got in common. I remember what my old man did to my mama—what he did to all of us, but it sometimes hurt worse…"

"Seeing what he did to my mommy," Sophia supplied.

Daryl swallowed against the unexpected ache in his throat. For just a second, he didn't know if the ache was there for his own mother, or if it was there for what he knew that Carol had suffered. Maybe it was there because he still felt, deep down, a little sorry for himself—and sorry for Sophia, by extension. When he saw her chin quiver, again, Daryl had to look away and focus on a large black ant that was making what appeared to be a hell of a hike over damp leaves, broken twigs, and the sawdust that piled up from the fact that this was the place where wood had been chopped for ages at this little house.

"I hated him," Sophia said, almost in a whisper. "I—feel like I shouldn't say that. Like I—I shouldn't have spent my whole life thinking it. But I hated him. I hated that he hurt my mommy."

"He don't hurt her no more," Daryl said.

"When he died," Sophia said, "I was supposed to be sad. She asked me a hundred times if I was sad. She told me it was OK if I wanted to cry. Lori asked me if I was sad. Andrea asked me if I was sad. Everyone thought—maybe I'd cry. I wasn't even a little bit sad, Daryl. I never have been. I hated him, and I hated that I felt that way."

"I hated my old man, too," Daryl said with a shrug. "Holy shit—still burns in my gut how much I hated him. Still—gotta try to let shit go. Much as you can, you know? Eats you up inside, if you don't."

"Did it eat you up?" Sophia asked.

"Sometimes I think it did," Daryl said, lighting himself another cigarette. From here, he could see the little house—the side of it. He could see the window where Carol would be if she was preparing food. "Your ma cookin'?" Daryl asked. Sophia hummed. She'd popped out of bed, practically, declaring that she'd missed her mother's food more than anything, and nothing would have been able to stop Carol from cooking. When they'd brought Carol's things and a few things for Sophia from the Kingdom, the night before, they'd also brought some supplies. Later in the week, someone would bring more. Daryl had snared a couple rabbits, and Carol had made them breakfast. She was using what was left of the meat, now, to prepare another meal. Daryl didn't doubt that she wasn't watching them, from time to time, out the window—just to be sure that her baby was safe.

"When I was gone," Sophia said, "and I would lay awake thinking about her and where she might be, I would think that—at least Daddy was dead. At least he wasn't hurting her anymore. I could sleep OK, thinking about the fact that he wasn't hurting her anymore."

"Nobody don't hurt her no more. Not like that. And they won't, neither."

"You'll stop them," Sophia said.

Daryl laughed quietly and shook his head.

"She'll stop 'em herself," Daryl said. "If your old man was to come back right now—and try to lay hands on her? She'd put him in the ground faster than that Walker ever did. Make him look worse than Shane did—I guarantee your ass that. But if she didn't? If she needed me to? I'd lay anybody in the ground that needed that shit these days."

Sophia looked shocked, at first. She looked taken aback. Daryl thought she might have even physically moved back a little.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled immediately. "I had no damn business sayin' that about your old man. And I'm sorry for that shit. He was yours—for whatever the hell it's worth."

"No—it's fine," Sophia said. "I guess…it's just hard to imagine that mama could…after everything..."

"Yeah—well—shit changes," Daryl said. "For instance, you're not exactly the little girl you were when you went runnin' off so long ago. A lot's happened to your mama, too. That's why she's being so protective. Needy or whatever. She ain't tryin' to get on your nerves."

Sophia made a face and then smirked. Daryl had seen that expression, too, on another face.

"It's obvious?" Sophia asked.

"About the time she started fussin' over you halfway through breakfast, it was obvious," Daryl said. "That's why I'm askin' you not to hurt her. I don't intend to downplay a thing you've been through. I don't know shit about it, and it's probably been hell. I'll listen if you wanna talk about it—hell—you can take a couple swings at me, if it'll help you feel better. I used to tangle up with Merle's ass just because fightin' shit out and gettin' damn tired would take some of it away. But—she's been through hell, too. Sometimes, it was a hell of her own making. She ain't never forgiven herself for what happened to you."

"It wasn't her fault," Sophia said.

"But her heart don't know that," Daryl said. "And—from what I can tell? Mamas' hearts don't always listen to logic and reason. She couldn't save you. Couldn't find you. Couldn't protect you from him before all that."

"She kept him from…everything," Sophia said. "I knew he wanted to hurt me. I could feel it, Daryl. But she never let him. He'd come after me and she'd just—put herself in between us. Right in the middle. Once, I even saw her hit him. She hit him and—I ran. I left her. I just left her and—I hid in the attic because it was one of the worst nights I can even remember."

"I bet it was," Daryl acknowledged. He could tell, just by looking at Sophia, that she was far away. She was reliving something she'd probably relived a thousand times before. "And you don't feel bad about that. You done just what she wanted you to do. You done what you was supposed to do."

"I couldn't figure out why she hit him," Sophia said. "Not when she knew what he would do. When she found me in the attic…" Sophia stopped and shook her head. "She tried to pretend she was OK."

"I think I know enough not to need the details," Daryl said. "She'da let him kill her, though. If that's what the hell it took to keep him from touchin' you." Daryl put on a smile. He didn't fully feel it at first, but he felt like they both needed it. Once he was wearing it, it felt a little more natural on his face. "For that reason, if for nothin' else—you gotta forgive her if she needs to fuss over you just a little bit, OK?"

"I can take care of myself."

"I know," Daryl agreed. "She does, too. She just wants to take care of you a little bit. She hasn't had a chance to do it—and you looked like you weren't complaining too bad when she was makin' you breakfast."

"It's just—she keeps fussing," Sophia said.

"And she's going to," Daryl said. "Henry is damn near a man and she'd cut his meat up for him if she could. Feed him mouthful by mouthful." Sophia smiled, clearly amused. Daryl smiled in response. He nodded his head. "That's bein' a good mama. You got one of them. You oughta enjoy it as much as you can."

"I lost a lot of time," Sophia said. "Time when I needed it more than now."

"Maybe you don't grow outta needin' it," Daryl said. "You lost time, yeah, but look at what the hell you got now. And time's one of them damn things—don't none of us know when the hell it runs out for any of us. You can either sulk over what you lost or go let your mama love all over you like she wants. If I was you—I know which damn one I'd choose."

Sophia stared at him a moment. She raised an eyebrow. There was a hint of a smile playing on her lips, and she didn't let her eyes leave him. Daryl found himself starting to feel unnerved.

"What?" He asked, when he couldn't take it anymore. "What is it?"

The smile grew slightly and Sophia shrugged her shoulders.

"I was just wondering—do you ever…let her love all over you?" Sophia asked.

Daryl felt his stomach react immediately, and his face grew warm.

"Ain't like that," he said.

"Because you don't want it to be?" Sophia asked. Daryl made a face at her. She mirrored it back. She had her mother's fucking attitude as much as she had her face—there was a strong argument here for nature and nurture, given that they hadn't seen each other for some time. Sophia raised her eyebrows at Daryl. "She wants it to be like that, you know…"

The words washed through Daryl.

"She say that?"

"She doesn't have to," Sophia said. "Anyone can see it—except…maybe you."

Daryl stared at Sophia. He wished he could say something—anything. He wished that he could ask her, like his brain wanted him to, to reassure him that what she said was actually true. He couldn't seem to find his tongue, though. It was as though he'd swallowed it. Maybe Sophia knew that. She shifted her weight.

"It's true," she said, as though she could read his mind. "She wants you to stay."

"I'ma stay," Daryl said. "Until—everybody's settled."

Sophia smiled softly.

"Maybe—a bit longer," she said. Daryl didn't commit one way or another. Sophia pursed her lips at him. "I'll make a deal with you, Daryl. I won't hurt her—but…you want to do me a favor? Even though you don't owe me one? Don't hurt her, either."

Daryl didn't say anything. He couldn't find the words. Sophia held his eyes a moment, and finally she broke eye contact and walked away—back toward the little house where Carol was probably making food and watching them at intervals, for once as genuinely happy as Daryl had seen her in a long while.

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AN: I'll be putting this on my works for a while to make sure everyone sees it, so please ignore if you read multiple stories. I just wanted to let everyone know that it was somewhat brought to my attention that one reason people may not review, or may not review works often or past the first chapter, is that they feel unappreciated by not having their reviews responded to for each chapter and, therefore, don't really feel motivated to continue to read and/or review. I certainly don't want you to feel that way.

Admittedly, I come from the era of fic where we used to sort of consider (perhaps wrongfully) reviews as an acknowledgement that people were reading and wanted more of the story, since I have no other reliable way of knowing who is reading and cares about the story. I have always simply gone on to work on the next chapter. I have only responded to reviews that were personal and, of course, to personal messages. I, of course, read and appreciate every single review, but I have always simply put my time and energy into trying to write more for people to read and, hopefully, enjoy. I never meant to be dismissive of everyone.

I know that it feels bad to feel that what you do is unappreciated or unnoticed. Fic writers often feel that way with a lack of reviews. I wouldn't want other people to feel unappreciated. I absolutely appreciate when people review. It lets me know that people are reading and enjoying the story. It's a sign that I'm not wasting my time, and it gives me motivation to keep going. However, I don't want people to feel unappreciated either. So, I'm going to start doing my best to respond to your reviews. Please note that, the more you say to me, the more I'll obviously have to say in my response. (If you're one of those people who may find this awkward, please let me know, and I won't respond to you. My goal is not to make anyone uncomfortable.) Also, I appreciate your patience, as this will be something that does take time and, as such, it may take me a while to respond to them out of the time that I do have outside of work and adult life, since my free time and the energy that life leaves me is quite limited. I thank you for your patience and understanding.

I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Please don't forget to let me know what you think.