Disclaimer: Randomcat23 does not own TWD.

It Crumbles

It was nearly dark by the time Daryl and Sophia heard the dinner bell.

"Come on, kid. Let's go." Daryl held her hand as she jumped down from the bench and together they walked to the front of the roundhouse. A glow emanated from an open door and soon enough they found the source: dozens of candles on the dinner tables. Carol sat across from Jonathan, hands folded neatly in front of her. Daryl stiffened as he tried to get a read of their conversation. Looked friendly enough. It was only when Carol got up with a polite smile and came to them that he relaxed.

"Hi," Carol said. "I was wondering where you two were."

"Daryl showed us how to make flat pennies," Sophia explained, displaying her coin.

Carol appropriately cooed over the treasure before nodding at the table. "Something went wrong in the kitchen today, I think the fire kept going out. So, it's a late, romantic dinner."

"Looks nice," Daryl said out of obligation to respond. He cleared his throat and tipped his head slightly to Jonathan with a silent question.

Carol licked her lips. "I think we're going to be fine."

She led them to where Jonathan was seated, now with a bowl of soup and a hunk of bread in front of him. Daryl swallowed. Part of him hoped she would whisk them away to a different table, but another part of him was already steeled for this possibility. This meeting was as inevitable as the hangover after a heavy night of drinking.

He still hadn't decided how to confront Jonathan with his lie about asking Kenny, but by the time they reached the table, it was too late to come up with an answer. Cautioning himself, Daryl decided it was conversation best had alone and not in a crowded room. Daryl grunted a greeting and focused on getting Sophia fed. Although Jonathan always put him on edge, had ever since the man commanded the crowd, Daryl forced himself to loosen up.

When Daryl went to tear a piece of bread off of the center loaf for Sophia, Jonathan spoke. "I think I owe you an apology, Daryl."

Daryl's hand paused for a split second before he handed Sophia the bread. Sophia thanked him after stuffing it in her mouth. He huffed lightly at her. The extra second gave him time to compose himself.

Keeping his tone even, Daryl responded, "What for?"

"For giving you a hard time about Erie." Jonathan was back to his chipper, friendly tone. He looked appropriately abashed as he swirled his bread in the juices at the bottom of his bowl. "Carol told me she mixed up vacations."

"Oh, that. Don't worry about it." Daryl straightened in his seat and forced himself to eat against his stomach's wishes. Even though the conversation was going better than he expected, his left foot twitched.

"Thanks for understanding."

Laura slid in beside her husband just as Carol took her place on Sophia's opposite side. The two chattiest people, Carol and Jonathan, took over the conversation. Daryl chimed in when appropriate, making sure to look for any drastic change in Jonathan's expression. Jonathan remained chummy. Daryl offered to get everyone water refills; it was an excuse to step away for a moment and shake out the nervousness.

In a rare appearance, Kenny rang the dinner bell midway through the meal. The room quieted. "Just a quick announcement! Finally got those shower stalls up and running. They'll be ready starting tomorrow morning. We'll come up with some sort of schedule. Can't have ya'll bickering over it," Kenny joked and then waved down the rowdy, excited cheers.

"That's what I did today," Jonathan said after Daryl set down the refilled cups.

"Sorry, what was that?" Daryl asked.

"The showers." Jonathan beamed. "Kenny and I got the water running today to the stalls and he gave me and Laura first dibs on the showers." He slapped his hand on the table. "Let me tell you, they're amazing!"

"Tell him what else, Jon," Laura said, excitedly.

"Kenny gave me a bottle of whiskey as thanks!"

It wasn't haughty enough to be called a brag. Except that's all Daryl could read it as. He came to a couple of conclusions then. First, Daryl wondered if it was a mistake for Kenny to offer prizes and treats for extra work. The beer stash was long gone, but with the nightly train runs Double Rod were bringing back specialty items that Kenny could use as payment. That practice would continue for the foreseeable future.

Second, Jonathan not only wanted to be involved with the goings on at the roundhouse, he also very much wanted to be recognized for it. He wanted to feel important. That drive had been buried in all his annoying questions about how Kenny was paying him and anytime Jonathan tried to influence the crowd. Maybe too, when he tried to command Daryl's day, instead of respecting Kenny's authority.

So, third, if that's what it took to placate this asshole, so be it. Daryl put on a tight smile and said, "Good for you."

Jonathan beamed brightly.

Him and Jonathan would always stand on rocky ground with each other. Jonathan was everything he was not, charismatic, charming, an extrovert. Daryl would never forget how quickly the man had turned on him due to a misunderstanding. He refused to constantly puff up Jonathan's ego and therefore would draw ire every time he failed to compliment any small perceived achievement.

At the same time, as he sat across from his temporarily appeased antagonist, Daryl felt like he had crested a hill and now could reap the benefits of the climb. With him and Carol together and his bond with Sophia growing, the family man act was no longer an act. As novel as it was, there was affection and genuine concern. Therefore, his biggest weakness was mitigated and the situation with Jonathan was resolved.

That was good enough...for now.

Daryl finally shook out the last of the lingering tension, picked up his own piece of bread, and dug in.

The dinner candles went out one by one. At first Sam struck matches and relit them, but it was a losing battle; people went to bed, most recognizing that wasting matches on a few extra minutes of light was frivolous.

Over the glow of their last candle, Daryl, Carol, and Sophia bid Jonathan and Laura goodnight. Daryl stood up from the table without a knot in his stomach; he and Jonathan were oil and water, but at least now they could exist in the same space. From the sound of it, Jonathan had found his in with Kenny. The man could earn all the praise and prizes he wanted, whatever got him off.

Out of habit, Daryl side-eyed Jonathan's departure before following Carol and Sophia upstairs, but Jonathan had already moved to another source of attention.

Their room was dark and hot. Carol opened a few of the windows in hope of inviting in a breeze. When she backed away, she rolled her shoulder. Daryl caught her wince out of the corner of his eye. His fingers twitched, eager to help.

By the time Carol got Sophia into bed, he'd worked up the courage to ask, "Want help with yer shoulder?"

She parted her mouth before snapping it shut. With a shake of her head, Carol took a seat at their table and fixated on the night sky. She straightened her back and folded her hands on her lap. She then whispered, "Yes, I'd like that."

It was easy to find the knot. His right thumb pressed it gently and then when she didn't sigh, he pressed a little harder.

"That's good," Carol moaned.

"We gotta start stretchin' after walking the fence," he said to break his singular focus from her shoulder and to keep the mood light. Daryl added a second thumb and Carol tucked her head to her chest.

"Agreed. But this is also nice."

He blushed at the smirk in her voice.

Inch by inch, he explored the base of her neck before going back to the troublesome knot. When she didn't protest he ventured further, working both sides of her spine. Her little moans of pleasure were all the encouragement he needed.

It was strange, this satisfaction with the quiet touches. He was still trying to piece together exactly what it meant. Merle always described his relationships with the carnal at the forefront. Breasts, ass, pussy. Get some. Get off. Never did Daryl think a man could crave the foreplay too. It wasn't like he didn't feel that arousal. He was very aware of the tug under his belt that accompanied each of Carol's low hums and the softness of her skin against his calloused fingers.

If she turned around and so much as kissed him, he'd swoop her up and drop her on his bed.

But this was good too. Seeing her melt under his touch did funny things to his heart.

Eventually, before he could muster the words to push things further, Carol patted his hands and murmured her thanks. She got up and stretched. "I should have asked you sooner."

Empty, he fisted his hands at his sides to prevent himself from touching her. "Well, ya know where I am."

"Very true."

Even in the dark, he caught her trailing her eyes over his body, a little quirk to her mouth. It must have been his imagination, but he thought she was about to say something. Another tease, maybe a suggestion. Shadows shifted across the planes of her collarbone as Carol placed a hand over his heart.

"Good night," Carol said, bestowed a chaste kiss, and then retreated to the side room.

"Night," he responded, nearly too late. It was difficult to speak through his tight throat. Once her door clicked shut he took to the open window, hoping for relief from the heat coursing through his body.

The next morning, Carol and Sophia were gone before he woke up. He puttered around the room, grabbing his bag and weapons for his scheduled hunt. When they didn't come back, he buried his disappointment and left the room. It wasn't until he was halfway down the hallway that an answer came to him: the showers were open.

"They musta went early to avoid the rush."

He skipped breakfast and picked a shady picnic table outside where he could sharpen his knives in peace. After he finished one, Daryl tipped his head back and breathed deeply. Grease, iron, and body odor had become synonymous with life at the roundhouse. What was once considered a gross smell now defined safety. It wasn't even worth noting anymore, it was just Genesis. That was why when he caught a whiff of lavender and honey it hit him like a hurricane. He glanced up from the repair work on his crossbow and found Carol.

She busied herself buffing out her hair with a towel as she enclosed the gap between them. She had a fresh set of jean shorts and a sleeveless blouse that he had found a few weeks ago. Please that it fit her, he grinned.

"How's that shower?"

Hey eyelashes fluttered, "Glorious. The water pressure isn't great but, god did it feel good to stand under running water!"

Daryl scratched at the layer of grime on his forearms. "I bet. Where's Sophia?"

"I just took her to class after breakfast." Carol eyed his handiwork. A lone droplet of water dripped from her hair to the picnic table. "Turns out we didn't need to rush to the showers, there wasn't much of a line. Kenny decided the ladies get to use them today. Guys can start tomorrow. I think Laura took over setting up a schedule."

His mood soured a bit. "Of course she did."

"Hey, at least Jonathan didn't spray paint his name all over the stalls."

Daryl snorted. "'M sure he thought about it though."

Carol swatted at him playfully. "Are you leaving soon?"

"Soon as I finish this." He gestured to his crossbow and second knife with a lazy wave. The urgency to leave had diminished since she had walked over. It was early enough that he could wait a bit and still snag dinner.

"Be careful," she warned.

"Always."

She paused with her fingers buried in her hair, a sly but hopeful twist to her mouth. "I don't know if you heard, but they brought back a caboose the other day."

He nodded. The dark red train car had appeared in the yard over night. After eavesdropping a bit, he discovered Kenny and Rod brought it back the night before during one of their outings. Daryl hadn't given it much thought.

"Well, the kids are having a sleepover in it tonight. One of the other mom's, Jackie, thought it would be fun. And I was wondering, well..." she trailed off, blushing. "Maybe you sneak into the showers and then we could use the empty room to our advantage?"

Lavender, honey, and Carol flooded his lungs as he inhaled sharply and held that breath incase she retracted her statement with a joking giggle. Carol trickled her fingertips down his bare arm, mimicking shower droplets. His head spun in a dizzying mix of surprise and want.

He swallowed hard, forgot about the grime on his hands and grabbed one of hers to plant a kiss on her palm. "Y-yeah," he managed to say after a moment. "I can do that. Be happy to-"

Her giggle cut off his rambling and they both laughed at each other's giddiness.

"It's a date then. You better get going then! Have a good hunt." After a lavish wink, Carol sashayed toward the building.

Daryl squinted at the high sun and puffed his cheeks out with a sigh. Once he had regained his composure, he did quick work to finish his weapon maintenance and hurried outside. Usually the day passed quickly outside the fence, when it was just him surrounded by the rustle of grass and bird calls.

"Hours are gonna crawl today," he inwardly bemoaned, but couldn't stop grinning at the thought of what would be waiting when he returned.

Soaked in sweat, Daryl smacked his lips and headed to the water spigot figuring he'd beat the dehydration before dinner. He'd caught two rabbits despite being semi-distracted all afternoon; Carol's proposal entwined itself into every one of his muscles and thoughts. Frenzied desire was hampered only by the need to not fuck it up. He had plucked a small bunch of wildflowers for her on his way back. Now, the tiny purple trumpets and yellow daisies stuck out of his breast pocket like a boutonniere.

It was quiet, an hour or two before dinner. Double Rod talked in hushed tones, probably about the logistics of the next project. Rod had a pencil tucked behind his ear and a small notepad in his hand. A decision made, the two men dashed down the back hallway, both nodding at Daryl as they passed.

There were a few people upstairs. Daryl could see their shadows moving in the hallway, maybe heading for a quick nap before eating. That, or, people were at work on the library. It was up there that he spied Carol, busy with Laura, her arms overflowing with books.

His stupid grin came back.

Later, he would curse himself for being distracted. All heart eyes and his cursed-loud, over eager heart. He got to the back of the dining area and threw his bag down next to the spigot. He quickly dipped his hands in the overflow bucket to get the worst of the dirt from between his fingers. Then, Daryl finally went to take a drink.

He was bent under the spigot when it happened.

He should have seen it coming.

He was surrounded before the first drop of water hit his tongue. These weeks had turned him soft, let him believe they were all on the same side. Jonathan? The man was nosey, but dangerous? No way. Maybe the guys at the wall were indifferent to him, but surely they weren't hostile.

A whiff of alcohol was the only warning.

The punch blindsided him.

"We know what you did!" Jonathan yelled in his ear. He kicked the overflow bucket and the plastic shattered with a loud crack.

Daryl's cheek splashed in a puddle. Wet grit and iron mixed into the metallic smell of blood. Dazed, Daryl blinked. It didn't take him long to regain his awareness. He raked his fingers along the floor to secure his purchase for a counterattack.

Meanwhile, Jonathan continued his assault verbally. "And I-we-won't stand for it! This is a safe place. There's no room for assholes like you!"

Daryl spat, "The fuck you talking about?"

He slowly got up to his elbows and then wobbled onto a knee. His stomach dropped; there were four of them, large men who worked the wall. If he tried, Daryl was sure he could name them, but for now they were faceless monsters. Except for their leader. Jonathan took point, a haughty sneer ruining his classic good looks.

"My wife saw Carol's scars," he declared.

The simple sentence burned across Daryl's skin, flaring and settling in his breast bone, brittle and tight.

"No-," he fumbled like an idiot and backed up until he was against the wall.

Jonathan closed in. Daryl ducked under the next punch and then landed a strong uppercut. His knuckles tingled. In the back of his head, his inner animal screeched, "You were right to distrust Jonathan."

The victory was short lived. When Jonathan staggered, the three others moved in. Each kick and punch resurfaced a memory of a time he'd snapped at Carol since they've arrived, each time he didn't sit with her and Sophia at dinner. He thought he was saving their image by avoiding social blunders. In the end, it was the foundation for distrust.

Survival kicked in and helped him land a second good jab to Jonathan's jaw and a savage kick to a secondary attacker. Then the world lit up with stars as a third attacker struck his head. Another nailed him square in the chest. Daryl took forever to fall, flopping on the ground with a wet smack. Each breath was like inhaling glass. They were really going to kill him for horror he hadn't committed, for a evidence he'd never even laid eyes on.

The whiskey created a bold flush across Jonathan's nose and cheeks. He shook a superior finger at Daryl and cackled. "I thought there was something wrong about you. Always acting like you had something to hide."

Daryl wheezed. He raised his hands to cover his face and franticly searched for cover.

"What are you doing!"

Daryl blinked but his vision had gone blurry. He wiped dirt from his face and used the lull to scurry away from the direction of the last punch. Something cool brushed over his head but he flinched away from the contact. He could smell her before he could see her. Lavender. Carol.

"Daryl, it's me." He recognized the sweep of her fingers over his forehead. He emitted a pathetic sound.

A large pair of boots came into Daryl's field of vision, accompanied by Jonathan's voice. "Carol. There's no need for you to be with him anymore."

She formed a thin shield between his attackers and him. Her voice was iron when she asked, "What the hell are you talking about?"

Daryl snarled something incomprehensible as he tried to put himself between her and Jonathan. His cried out shamefully when his knee scraped the ground. She wouldn't let him move much more than that, however. Carol placed a firm arm across his chest. Again she asked, "What are you talking about, Jonathan?"

Jonathan spoke as if he was talking to a scared animal, or someone stupid. The specific flow of sentences got lost in the throbbing in his head, but Daryl followed the logic.

Showers. Laura was in the showers with Carol.

Scars. Laura saw flashes of the damage on Carol, knew what they were, cigarette burns, and, terrified for her friend, reported it to Jonathan.

Jonathan took it to his friend group. Clearly it was her husband, they all determined. It made sense. Daryl smoked, they'd all seen him. He was the rough asshole who ate alone, who couldn't remember a family vacation. Who wasn't part of their group.

It was very straight forward, they insisted. Clear as day.

"Society may have failed you, but we can make it right."

"Oh, shut up." Carol smacked away Jonathan's hand.

"Carol!" Jonathan pled.

Daryl attempted to stand but the weak effort turned into just a roll to his side.

"Stay still." She looped her arms around him. Daryl heard a pair of thunderous steps approaching and flinched again. Only Carol's presence kept him still. She got him to sit against the wall. Through the haze, he heard her call, "Rod! Rodney, please help me."

"Carol," Jonathan tried again.

She smacked him. "Get the fuck away from us!"

"Carol, please. Would you rather talk to Laura?"

"You nosey asshole!" Her voice quivered for just a second. "Guess what, you are right! My husband gave me those scars. He was a terrible monster." Her declaration echoed through the dining hall, loud and clear. Carol pressed on, "And you know what happened to him? He's dead. Dead on the side of the tracks outside of Atlanta like he deserves. Daryl saved me from him. He'd never hurt me."

"But..."

"'But' nothing." Carol jabbed sharply at Jonathan. "You don't know anything. You don't get to...dispense justice on a self-satisfying hunch!"

A stunned silence washed over the entire room. If his chest didn't feel like it was caving in, Daryl would have laughed at the way the men shrunk from her. Jonathan gaped like a fish, looking stupid as the alcohol softened his features.

The next few minutes dragged. Carol got Rod and Rodney to lift Daryl upright and carry him upstairs. Pride begged him to turn down the help. It was a sign of weakness, an opening for enemies to exploit. Besides, this wasn't the first time he got a few punches to the gut and head. Going to the bar with Merle was good for that. But when he tried to wave off the concern, Daryl hissed instead.

The stairs were agony and the deathly silence in the dining hall followed them until they eased him into his bed. It wasn't a smooth transition, he remembered knocking his knee on the tiled floor and whimpering. Once propped up in bed, he was ready to answer for himself, but Carol cut him off with a stern look.

"Let me fight this one," her stare said. He found it easier to relent than he expected.

"You going to be okay?" Rod asked hesitantly. "I can bring up some bandages for the cuts."

"Yes, please," Carol said in a hoarse whisper.

The large man shared a glance with his partner. "Kenny's going to hear 'bout this."

"He needs to pay," Carol hissed with all the venom of ten snakes.

"Jonathan won't go unpunished. I'll make sure of it," Rodney said. "Though, I feel like you'll have to explain some parts of it yourselves." Carol opened her mouth to demand more, but Rodney cut her off. "Don't get me wrong. Something will be done. It's just that...this is obviously more complicated than a drunk mishap."

"Alright," Carol resigned only when Daryl gave her arm an encouraging pat.

Rod looked at the two of them and nodded. "I'm gonna round up Jonathan and those others now. Lock 'em up somewhere or something. Fuckin' bullshit, accusing someone of somethin' like that."

"We better get to it then," Rodney said with his hands on his hips. "We'll check in later and bring those bandages."

The two men left with ashen faces. Carol jumped up to lock the door and then added a pillow behind Daryl. She shook her head slowly, touched the gash on his forehead, and then broke into tears.

"Stop, hey. Stop." He patted her hand, then curled his fingers around hers. Blood and sweat dripped over his eye. His entire body was one giant bruise but all he wanted was to crush her against him.

"It's my fault." She wiped his forehead tenderly and then knelt next to the bed. Sniffling, Carol buried her face into the mattress.

"Look at me," he croaked. "Carol, please."

She finally glanced up at him with watery eyes. Along with the rest of his body, his heart ached severely.

"It ain't. It ain't yer fault." He fumbled for her hand, his aim off due to the swelling around his eye.

"Daryl, it was me being reckless in the showers-"

"Nah." The need for comfort overwhelmed the physical pain. He dragged her alongside him in bed and buried his head in the crook of her neck. Lavender, honey, Carol. Relief and gratitude washed over him. "You saved me."

In more ways than one. Maybe someday he would write them all down and recite them to her. Then she'd know how she changed an aimless redneck's life.

Carol muttered, "It did feel good to hit him."

He barked out a laugh which turned into a cough. Carol rubbed circles across his back, half chuckling, half apologizing. Once he had the cough under control, Carol nested beside him. He took a deep breath. It was uncomfortable, but it lacked a stabbing pain. His knee might take a while to full heal, but it was mostly bruises and scratches, nothing more. That small comfort quickly soured. Daryl fisted the sheets, his thoughts immediately turning to revenge.

"'M gonna kill 'im," Daryl whispered.

"He's going to be kicked out, right? Kenny couldn't possibly let him stay."

"He better not!"

If Kenny kicked Marcus out for theft, surely Jonathan would too for assault. The image of a dejected Jonathan screaming and pleading from the other side of the fence felt nearly as good as the bed under his body. It wouldn't feel nearly as good as doing it himself. Maybe Kenny would let Daryl have a go at Jonathan before pushing him out the gate.

"We have Rod and Rodney on our side," Carol reasoned. "They saw what happened."

Daryl grunted an agreement, anger still simmering in his chest. In another time, despite his injures, he would have jumped up right then and there to hunt his assailant down. Nobody ever got the better of a Dixon without living to regret it.

"Don't be stupid," he chided himself even though he'd come a long way from that part of his life. He leaned his head against Carol's and relished the comfort the small touch brought. He took a slow breath, resolving to get his revenge, but to do it smartly.

"When they get back with bandages, I'm going to have to go get Sophia. I-" Carol paused to dig her palms into her eyes. "What a mess!"

Wincing, Daryl snaked his arm around Carol's shoulders and hugged her to him. "We're gonna be fine."

Carol let out a heavy sigh. "Yes. I know."

The exchange soothed both of them, just for the moment. The fight wasn't over. Another struggle was ahead, but for right now, for the next few minutes, they sat in silence and found strength in each other.

At some point he drifted off. Sometime later, he cracked open one eye, then the other when he registered the dimness as twilight. Carol was gone from his side. A twang went up his spine and he jolted upright. His knee sharply protested, but he noticed it had been wrapped. There was a bandage around his head too. Daryl grunted as he waited for the pain to dull to a throb.

"Everyone's outside."

He jumped. It took him a moment to find the kid in the shadows, her small form shaking.

Sophia wrapped her arms around herself. "There are so many of them."

A weird sound hummed outside, like a thousand gears grinding together or maybe a swarm of bees. Most likely, his ears were just ringing, but Sophia shivered with fear. His gut plummeted. Moving shot stars across his vision, but he crawled his way to Sophia's side to wrap what he hoped was a comforting arm around her trembling shoulders.

"I'm scared," she admitted and pointed outside.

Temples throbbing, he hobbled to the window.

Thousands of the dead were pressed against the fence and the wall. Small shadows ran back and forth on the inside; people inspecting, people panicking. He thought one was Kenny, but he couldn't be sure.

Sophia joined him with a sniffle. Together, they gasped as a section of the chain link fence buckled and the dead swarmed up against the brick wall.

"Where's yer Ma?" He spun around without thinking, looking for Carol, as if she was hiding in the back room. Instead, he only found his crossbow and his knives. His world spun. He staggered.

"Outside with everyone else. The...they had to get my friends out of the caboose."

His mouth went dry.

"Stay here. I'll be back," he promised and ran out the door.

Author's Note: We are entering the end game here. Thanks for reading!-randomcat23