TRIGGER WARNING: Mention of rape/sexual assault/violence

Last chapter for these trigger warnings as per 2 previous chapters (at this stage in the story, haven't written the rest yet, so I don't even know what's ahead!).

Thanks so much for sticking with me through these bits, as promised, things lighten up again after this x

Chapter 38 - The bones of it

There was no sleep for Daryl that night. Only torturous flashing images of what had happened to her. His beautiful, lighthearted Tahly, bound, beaten, abused, over and over.

He knew that she was not one for overly extreme displays of emotion – God, she barely even raised her voice when she was angry – so to imagine what it must have taken to have reduced her to a screaming, crying, begging mess... his insides were shredded to bloody pieces to think of her being hammered into that.

And what had he been doing while she was sobbing and bleeding on a cold, dirty floor?

Had he been out contentedly hunting in the woods? Had he been sleeping soundly, safe and watched over? Had he been sharing food around a fire with his friends?

If only he could have found her, helped her, saved her, done something. Obviously, he didn't even know that she existed then, but that fact did little to assuage his anguish.

And if they hadn't come across Rosco by chance, would she ever have told him? Or would she have kept it from him, carried that heavy burden on her own?

All of these thoughts were tearing him up inside, turning him inside out in agony. All he wanted to do was hold her so tight that all memories of that awful time were squeezed from her, wrung out like a dirty rag. But he couldn't go to her just yet because it was all still so raw. The rage borne from the knowledge of her pain and suffering bubbled ferociously inside him, and the only colour he could see right now was blood.

So, in the early hours of the morning he went to the fences, and he stabbed and slashed at the walkers like a man possessed - although that wasn't nearly enough to slake his thirst for blood and violence, but it would have to do. He slayed until his hand seized up and he could no longer hold a knife, then sweating profusely and gasping for breath, he went to clean the blood and gore from his body, then headed straight out for a long hunting session because he knew she'd need some space, and it was the only way that he would be able to keep himself away from her.

By the time the sun struck its pose high in the sky in the early afternoon, he had been roaming around the prison trying to catch sight of her, needing to check on her, but he'd had no luck spotting her.

"Seen Tahly?" Daryl questioned Carol as she brought out a large pot of stew to the courtyard.

Carol gave him a calculated look. "Yes. She's... cleaning. Been at it non-stop all day."

"Cleanin'?" repeated Daryl.

Quickly checking that there was no one near enough to eavesdrop, she grabbed Daryl's arm. "Something's up with her. What's happened?"

Roughly, Daryl pulled away and narrowed his eyes defensively. "I ain't done nothin'!"

"I'm not implying that!" chided Carol, "Just asking what's going on. You spend the most time with her, you must know."

The hunter remained silent, toeing the ground angrily like a schoolboy in the headmaster's office.

"Daryl. What's happened?"

"Can't tell ya. Ain't my thing to tell."

Carol nodded thoughtfully. "Ok... well is there anything I can do?"

Chewing his lip in agitation, Daryl shook his head. "Dunno. Dunno what to do myself."

Eyeing him carefully, Carol knew better than to keep pushing. "She's in the kitchen."

Picking at his thumbnail in hesitation for a moment, Daryl then nodded and headed straight for the kitchen. There she was, as Carol had said, vigorously scouring the benchtop, getting at every last tiny mark, real and imagined, her hands red and raw.

Watching with concern for a few moments, Daryl slowly approached and tapped her elbow gently.

"Y'ok?"

Tahlia jumped, then glanced at him for a brief second, a manic sheen in her eyes, never losing her cleaning rhythm.

"Yes!" she said brightly. Too brightly. "Fine!"

Just then Maggie barreled through the door. "Has anyone seen the-" She glanced curiously between the two of them, not knowing what she'd walked in on. "Oh, there it is." and grabbed the vat of chopped vegetables, quickly excusing herself again.

Daryl observed Tahlia for a while longer, her back to him as she obsessively wiped and scrubbed.

"Tahly?" he ventured, unable to disguise the waver of worry in his voice. "Tahly, ya wanna stop that for a minute and -"

"Can't. Can't stop. Gotta finish."

Daryl racked his brain to try and think of what to do next, but only came up with blanks.

"Alright." he said.

And reluctantly, he left her to it.

There wasn't an inch of kitchen left that Tahlia hadn't scrubbed, yet she pushed on, unable to rest.

"You know, I used to do that." came Carol's voice, low at her shoulder. "Clean. Clean like it would mean something. Like it could somehow erase the dirt inside me."

Tahlia froze at those words. Only for a millisecond, but enough for Carol to know that she had hit a nerve, so she carried on, focusing only on keeping her voice steady.

"I think maybe the worst time was when Ed slammed my head into the wall and broke my nose, then threw me down the stairs. He followed me down and kicked me until I passed out. After that, I cooked and cleaned for 5 days straight. Like somehow if everything around me was sparkling, that might detract from the darkness inside me. Like if everything was in order in the house, no one would see the dirt and shame in my heart."

Carol hated saying this out loud, even though she felt like she had shed the skin of the woman who lived through domestic violence. "I thought that maybe if I could prove that I was the perfect wife then I wouldn't deserve those things he did to me. I felt like it was something broken in me, not him. It took me a long time to see that it wasn't my fault."

Swallowing hard, Carol was surprised at how difficult the words were to speak, how dry and sandy they felt on her tongue, but she forced them out, voice wavering, holding onto the hope that if it offered a thread of help to Tahlia, then it was worth it.

"And the worst part was, that even after all of that, even when he was bit and killed, I cried for him. I still felt like I needed to hold on to him. And it wasn't until he was long gone, I finally realised that I didn't need him, or anyone. That I could stand on my own and that he was the problem, not me. And I've come so far since then, some days it's so hard to believe that I was that woman, that that was even my life, but it was, and it's part of my journey. And I've come out the other side better for it."

Wiping with lessened vigour, Tahlia kept her eyes firmly fixed on the sink she was leaning over. "Thank you for sharing that. I know that wasn't easy for you."

A long moment of silence fell between the two women, and eventually Tahlia dropped her cloth and turned to face Carol who was perched on the edge of the bench.

"Why did you tell me all that?"

Carol gazed at Tahlia, something deep and misty in her eyes. "I thought it may be something you needed to hear. I wanted to share it with you anyway. I want you to know that there are things that happen to us and they're not our fault, even if it feels like they are. And these things – we can get past them. We can come out the other side stronger, whole."

"Did... did Daryl talk to you?"

"He didn't tell me anything. He didn't have to. Watching you like this – it just reminded me of something I had been through. Something that, at the time, I thought I had to keep locked inside me. I know different now." Carol told her softly. "Tahly, if you ever want to, you can talk to me. About anything. Any time. Now, I'm going to take these clothes down to the troughs for washing. See you round."

With a reassuring squeeze on the younger woman's shoulder, Carol was gone, leaving Tahlia up to her elbows in suds and grime.

Carol washed her way through the seemingly endless pile of laundry, half working, half waiting. She'd been down there on her knees for perhaps an hour before Tahlia appeared beside her with an armful of sheets, ready to wash. Wordlessly, she knelt next to Carol and dipped and scrubbed and rinsed.

Carol carried on silently, focusing on the rhythm of her task, waiting patiently.

"So." Tahlia said eventually, nervously, resignedly. "So."

And in a powerful rush, it poured out like water through a broken dam. The thing she had thought would never be aired again to a woman whose last name she didn't even know.

The whole thing.

Half turned away from one another, Carol stopped what she was doing and rested on her knees, head bowed, listening to every word. Tahlia continued to rinse and scrub obsessively as she talked, tears falling freely into the soapy water, her voice low and steady.

.

And the bones of it were this:

.

Dark woods, sudden ambush, brutal men, Michonne left for dead.

Stuffy trunk, stale air, ropes burning, hands numb.

Derelict house, rusty radiator, the cold, the cold.

Air heavy with mildew, rancid oil, cigarette smoke.

Dirty boots, harsh voices, cruel laughter, hateful hands.

Stripped, beaten, violated, pain stretching for miles.

Grime, filth, blood, stench of defilement and fear.

Marked face, leering grin, sour breath, devil's eyes.

Ornate gun, cold metal, narrow barrel, single bullet.

Hollow click, empty chamber, tears, gratitude, burning shame.

Prayers for death, prayers for life, prayers silenced - no one hears.

Dark, light, day, night, repeat, repeat.

Booze flowing, bawdy men, bonds loosened, a mistake, a chance.

No strength, find strength, choose life.

Snoring pigs, heavy candlestick, skull caved in, brains spongy and spread.

A katana found, a head removed, blood paints the walls.

Creaky stairs, Rosco's room, panic, weakness, turn and run.

Shadowy night, twinkling stars, air fresh, biting, freeing.

Legs moving, trees scratching, feet tearing.

Stumble, fall, get up, repeat.

Muddy ditch, a slip, a final fall.

Cold ground, warm blood, no more pain, relief.

Eyes close, Death knocks, an urge to answer.

Voices kind, hands healing, a different door opens.

Hope.

.

She spared no detail, knowing that this would be the first and only time she would ever speak the whole nightmare out loud. At some point, Carol had turned to face her, and slowly, gently, embraced her, holding Tahlia's head against her chest and stroking her hair as the words and tears spilled together, Carol's own face wet with silent empathy.

And Tahlia found she did feel better, having it all out from inside of her. Like she had taken a big step in the right direction. She thought the words would make it more real, more painful, but in fact they had the opposite effect. Speaking the words dispersed the pain a little, like throwing a stack of papers into the wind.

Eventually there was no more to tell, and no more tears to cry. Tahlia sat up and looked into Carol's kind blue eyes.

"I've never told anyone all of it before. There were a couple of others along the way who knew the gist of it – people who were absolute rocks for me, who really helped me – but no one from my life now. But now Daryl knows. And you know. And that feels like two people too many."

"You never spoke about this with Michonne?"

Tahlia shook her head. "No. Avoided it. Didn't want her to know what could've happened to her too. Didn't want her to feel guilty about any of it."

Carol reached for her hand and held it tight.

"Honey, this isn't something that you should keep bottled up inside. Sometimes when you do that, it can make it seem more… taboo. Then when you let it out you find that it doesn't hold as much power over you. Michonne loves you and would want to be able to support you through this, just like you would want to do the same for her. I really think that, when you're ready, you should consider talking to her about it. It's ok to trust others with this. You're so strong, Tahly. But you don't have to be strong all the time. You're not on your own. Never will be now, you have us."

And that made Tahlia cry all over again.

Daryl felt like he was a voyeur of a very private moment as he stood by the courtyard wall watching Carol comfort a weeping Tahlia down by the troughs. It was a long while before he could bring himself to leave, to turn his back to them. He wanted to be the one down there holding her, soaking up her pain, the one she turned to. But out of all the other people that it could be, he was glad it was Carol. So he let them be, feeling churned up and relieved and angry all at once.

Anxiously, he floated around the prison, waiting for the two of them to be done, waiting to catch Carol. Finally he spotted her heading to the cellblocks, and he ambushed her.

"She ok?"

"She will be." Carol told him assuredly.

Daryl chewed his lip nervously for a long moment. "So... she told ya?"

"Yes."

"All of it?"

"All of it."

"So... what did they... how did she...?" Daryl had so many questions, but one whole one wouldn't form.

Carol laid a hand firmly on his arm. "No. Don't ask. It wouldn't do you any good to know any more detail about it. It would only hurt you. You know the worst of it, leave it at that. She's working through it. Just give her a little time."

Nodding, Daryl couldn't help the pain etched across his face.

"Pookie. Just do what you've been doing. Be there, be a friend, be you. Pull her through, just like you did for me after Sophia."

"Dunno how."

"You do. Just keep her close and keep pushing forward, and she'll move forward with you."

Later that evening, Tahlia and Michonne were lying on the pile of cushions in the corner of the library, the musty smell of old books hanging like fog in the air, slabs of grey light from the concrete-coloured sky filtering in through the high, barred windows.

Tahlia liked it in the library. There was a certain level of comfort that books always offered her. Little paper soldiers standing to attention, standing guard.

After much deliberation, she had decided to take Carol's advice and confide in Michonne, although only the abridged version. Despite the fact that Michonne had been threatened firsthand by Rosco and his gun, Tahlia didn't want to talk about the sick games he would play. That would stay with Carol and Daryl alone.

The anguish on Michonne's face was raw. "God, Tahly, I knew those guys did something awful to you. I'm so sorry. I wish I had've... I should've searched harder, I should've-"

"No! Michy, no. There was nothing you could've done. I'm just so fucking glad that you weren't there for any of that." Tahlia assured her as she took a big slug from a bottle of whiskey then passed it over, the amber liquid sloshing lazily against the glass.

"Wish I had been there in the woods when you saw him. I would've liked to chop that fucker into little pieces." Michonne muttered, still reeling.

Tahlia sighed. "Shit, I wish you had been too. I was fucking useless against him when it came to it. I just... I couldn't even... damn I'm so mad at myself for not being able to take him down!"

Michonne sat up and grabbed Tahlia's arm. "Oh my God, Tahls! I don't blame you! The fact that you could even bring yourself to face him again is unbelievable! Do not beat yourself up over that. Not for a second."

Tipping her head back, Tahlia gazed up at the window above. "If Daryl hadn't been there... he was so incredible, Mich, he really was. Rosco would've killed me this time for sure, but Daryl saved my ass. And dealt with all the rest of it too. He was just so... fuck, didn't I tell you he was like Superman?! I owe him, big time."

Michonne gave a small smile, then grew serious again. "I'm sure he'd do it all again for you in a heartbeat." She squeezed her friend's hand. "You know that's what you've got here though, right, Tahly? A whole bunch of people who'd do anything for you, who care about you, who're looking out for you."

Tahlia nodded. "I know. I feel it, I do. It definitely feels like family here."

"So..." ventured Michonne. "You coping ok with all of this?"

"We've gotta cope, right? In this world, terrible things are happening all the time. Everyone has been through something."

"That doesn't make what you went through any less valid."

Tahlia let out a slow, contemplative breath. "For a long time now I've been able to get through my days without even thinking about any of it. Without it touching me. Like it was just a speck in my rearview mirror. But seeing him and hearing the shit he said brought it all back, you know? Just reopened that wound and it hurts like hell right now, but I know that I'll be able to put it behind me again. Especially now I know for sure he's dead. I am absolutely not going to give him any more space in my life than what he's already taken."

She grabbed the bottle back for another drink.

"Back then, right after, I thought I'd never trust anyone again, hell I thought I'd never even be able to be in the same room as a man again, but I was surrounded by the kindest people, and it reminded me what I've always believed, that people like Rosco are the exception, not the rule. Most people are good. And I never want to lose faith in that. And... it kinda made me stronger, braver. Made me push past any fears I had because - apart from the fact that I kept reminding myself that I've been doing some form of martial arts for nearly 20 years, and in the majority of situations I can actually defend myself, I can hold my own – I always ask myself, what could happen to me that would be worse than that?"

A little pained noise escaped from Michonne at her frankness.

"I know that sounds bad, but honestly, that pushed me to my limits, but it didn't break me, and I survived. So really, I just keep telling myself that I don't need to be afraid of anything because surely that's about the worst that I'll ever have to face. And that helps me to keep looking forward."

Too choked up for words, Michonne rolled over and threw an arm over Tahlia, hugging her tight.

No stranger to avoidance tactics, Daryl was fairly certain that this was what Tahlia was doing with him.

And it felt like shit.

But he wanted to respect her need for space and let her make her way back to him in her own time, despite the gnawing urge to grab hold of her and never let go.

It hadn't passed him by that she'd barely sat still, throwing herself into whatever jobs she could, and what was worse, seemed to be making sure that she was constantly surrounded by other people – just not him - which meant that he hadn't been able to catch her on her own for a second. His only consolation was that the manic energy from a day ago had ebbed and she seemed to be back to her usual cheery self.

On his way back up to the courtyard that afternoon, Michonne appeared out of nowhere and barreled straight into him, throwing her arms fiercely around his neck.

"Whoa!" exclaimed Daryl, dropping his bag as he slung one arm around her waist. "What's up?"

"Thank you." Michonne said emphatically as she released him.

Daryl just raised his eyebrows, no further clued as to what was happening.

"Tahly told me what happened in the woods. What you did."

"What we did." corrected Daryl as he landed on the same page.

"Said you saved her ass."

"Naw." Daryl shook his head at that. "Just helped her out. She ain't never needed no savin'."

Michonne gripped Daryl's arm. "Well, thank you. For taking care of those motherfuckers."

Daryl's expression darkened. "That fuckin' guy was the most disgustin' piece of shit I ever come across."

"Yep." scowled Michonne. "I'll never forget that fucking asshole. You know, until we found her that day in the store I truly believed they'd killed her. I mean, they almost did-"

Daryl hissed at that.

"-but now she's survived that scumbag twice. And he's finally in the ground."

"Best place for that fucker." growled Daryl. "Wish I coulda done a lot worse to him, but it ain't what she wanted. Anyway. Done now."

"Thank you-"

Daryl held a hand up. "Don't gotta keep thankin' me, anyone woulda done the same thing."

Michonne shook her head, her eyes bright with sincerity. "I don't mean just for that, though. I mean for being so good to her, for taking care of her, for being a decent guy."

"She makes all that real easy." replied Daryl quietly. "How... how's she doin'?"

"Think she's ok. She has moments when it drowns her a little, but she's ok. I think it's helped her to talk about it with us. I told her she should talk to Rick too, and then between us, the people she's closest to here, we've got her."

Daryl toed the ground a little before saying, "She ain't been talkin' to me."

"No?" said Michonne, surprised. "Well, I guess you were there with her through the worst of it, so maybe she just needs a little more time before she's ready." She clapped a hand onto his shoulder. "She'll come back to you."

A whole day and a half later, Michonne was squashed up on a sofa on one side of Tahlia, Sasha on the other, the flames in the drum licking brightly against the night sky.

"Why are you drinking coffee at this time of night?" Michonne asked Tahlia as she sipped from a steaming mug.

"Because I don't have any cocaine."

Michonne snorted at that and elbowed Tahlia, making her spill her coffee on her lap.

"Hey, watch it! This shit is hot!" exclaimed Tahlia.

"We were up 'til God knows when last night, then you went to do watch after, and I know you've been up since well before dawn. You need to get some sleep!" scolded Michonne.

"Can't." Tahlia shrugged nonchalantly. "Sasha's night vision is terrible, so she needs me to cover for her on night-watch so that no one finds out."

Now it was Sasha's turn to laugh and send an elbow Tahlia's way. "Oh yeah, coz you can see like an owl in the dark, huh? What about the other night when you thought there was a walker-giant coming to attack the prison, but it was just a tree that was waving about in the breeze!"

Tahlia made a face at that as she giggled. "Those branches really looked like big giant arms!"

Sasha shook her head and grinned as she stood up. "I'm just going to fill up my water bottle. Want me to fill one for you?"

"Yes please, thank you." replied Tahlia, taking another sip from her mug.

Michonne cast a quick glance over to the concrete wall where Daryl was sitting alone, smoking, a brooding look on his face as he flicked frequent, afflicted glances over at Tahlia.

"You talked to Daryl yet?"

"About what?" asked Tahlia blankly.

Michonne frowned and elbowed Tahlia hard, making her swear as her coffee sloshed over the rim again.

"About anything! You think I haven't noticed that you haven't spent any time with him since Rosco? He's been staring at you like a wounded pup for the past three days. What are you doing? You told me how amazing he was out there, how you owe him, and then you just blank him?"

Tahlia flushed and studied her fingernails. Sometimes she did not enjoy having such a close friendship with Michonne who was quite happy to bluntly call her out on her shit.

"I know... I just... I don't know what to say to him."

"What do you mean?! You spend half your damn days with him and you couldn't keep quiet if someone paid you - but you don't know what to say?"

"Well, it's just that..." Tahlia floundered for an explanation, then sighed. "It's just that I really like him, Michy. Like, a lot-"

"No shit, could've told you that a month ago."

Tahlia made an indignant noise at that. "Yeah, yeah. But then all that happened, and now he knows everything and... what if that's all he can see when he looks at me? What if he can never look past that?"

Michonne punched her friend in the thigh.

"Ow!" Tahlia glared at Michonne, rubbing her leg. "What the hell was that for?"

"Because you're an idiot sometimes." replied Michonne sternly. "You really believe he'd think like that?! He cares about you. He just wants to know that you're alright."

"But he might-"

"Tahly!" Michonne cut her off. "You know what kind of life he's had, what he's been through. How does that make you feel? Does it put you off? Do you think less of him?"

"God no! Nothing like that at all!" exclaimed Tahlia, horrified at the suggestion. "If anything, it makes me want to pull him closer, protect him!"

Michonne held Tahlia's gaze for a long moment. "Then why would he feel any differently about you?"

The words were sinking in as Sasha appeared back in front of them.

"Come on, Tahls. We're up."

"Right, yeah, let's go." muttered Tahlia as she quickly stood up.

Managing to land a kick at Tahlia's butt before she moved out of reach, Michonne said firmly, "Tahly. Sort it out."

Tahlia flicked her friend a quick glance over her shoulder, then gave a terse nod. "Yeah, ok."

Pushing herself up off the sofa to head to her cell, Michonne stopped by Daryl who was still smoking, looking gloomy.

"Hey." She kicked the toe of his boot lightly with her own. "Think she's ready now. Find her tomorrow."

Stay tuned for some shameless fluff.