This one caused me some issues and a couple more rewrites than usual, but our journey is dark. Carol is hurting and angry and she is posssibly just as messed up and wrecked as Daryl is, but she isn't acknowledging it. We're building to a big catalyst moment, but we have to wade through this first.

Broken knuckles
Knocked out teeth
Jetting rivers
Scars on the map of jawbone
Are real here.
When the neighborhood labels your blood; Beast
Don't take it personally
Crochet
Bake cookies
Fly a kite
- Desireé Dallagiacomo "Notes on Loving a Five-Time Felon"

Carol finished loading up the nachos that she was fixing for the football game, the fridge stocked with beers as she fluttered around the kitchen, working to set up everything that Ed had demanded for his night with the Dixon boys again, another game to be spent with them. She hadn't been as upset this time when he told her his plans for the night, she had been ready.

She set the oven timer as she slipped the nachos in to cook and then moved to the box sitting out on the table, gaze scanning around and finding the spot across the wall from the door, the first thing the eye was drawn to when they entered. She crossed to take down the 'Bless this home' sign that took the space and replaced it with the first of the frames from her box, walking over to set the sign on the door and digging through the rest of the box with another sigh. as she pulled out several different frames, looking towards the living room as she hugged them close, counting on Ed's indifference not to notice the changes in the house before the brothers showed up for the game.

She flitted about the living room, working to be sure that she covered every angle that a person could turn in without overloading the room, never putting anything up where there wasn't something she could take down, making sure that the room wasn't more cluttered and risk putting too much emphasis on the changes of the room. She carried the old directions back to the box in the kitchen and stashed them away before carrying it back up to the attic to store it away.

Slipping into her bedroom she gently peeled her clothes away from her body and turned to slip into the thick sleep pants and searching out a sweatshirt to slip into, making sure that she was dressed in the least appealing clothes that she could find, if she didn't feel good about herself than she wouldn't be inclined to notice or feel good about the monsters that came through her door tonight either.

Ed was home first and he just moved in and plopped down in his seat, calling for a beer, despite the fact that he had passed the refrigerator on his way into the living room. She rolled her eyes and turned off the oven before crossing to grab a beer for her husband, carrying it in and handing it off to him.

"Hey." His voice was rough around the edges and annoyed and she froze in place, fear rising like bile in the back of her throat as she wondered if he happened to notice one of the pictures she had switched out just above the television screen. Slowly she twisted around to face him, trying to force a smile to pain over her face.

"Ed?"

"I ain't gonna be able to drink it like this." He held up the bottle that still had the cap on it and she cleared her throat, nodding her head silently and rushing across the room to grab his bottle opener and bring it back to hand off to him. "There." He dismissed her with a nod, flipping the screen on and searching out the game. "Stop messin' with the tv during the day." He was annoyed that it wasn't waiting on the sports channel for him and she decided against reminding him that he had been the one watching the weather channel this morning. "You got time to watch, you're letting too much around here slide. Now go feed the damn fire. Fuckin' ice box in here."

The sound of an engine approached outside and Carol nodded softly before rushing out towards the door to open it for the Dixon brothers, taking a look around the kitchen again before she reached to shrug on Ed's winter jacket, since he still couldn't be bothered to go out and replace the one that had been 'lost' during an argument they had out by the furnace about her wasting too much of his hard earned money on wood - after sending her out to feed the fire. She shook herself out of her musings as the door rattled with the knock before she was almost taken out completely by the swinging door as Merle Dixon didn't bother waiting for it to be opened up to him - sweeping inside like he owned the place.

She jumped back, one boot on, one boot off, jacket practically swallowing her tiny frame up completely and she winced at the grin that spread over his face with an exaggerated tip of his head in her direction. "Afternoon Mousey. Man of the house in?" Merle didn't wait for an answer before he kicked off his boots and dropped his coat, headed back towards the sound of the game, making himself quite at home on only his second visit.

Daryl was there. She didn't spot him until she was scooping up Merle's coat and nudging his boots towards the rubber mat, but he was standing in the doorway, his eyes glued to the opposite wall, wide and dark. His breathing was slow and labored and he looked about ready to collapse into a panic attack or something and Carol had to breathe in slowly through her nose and stand up straighter, telling herself that he didn't deserve an ounce of pity from her. This man couldn't be allowed to just - forget. He had to pay.

"That was my favorite." She chanced the comment, her voice low, but icy, her gaze locked on him. "Best day of my life." She stuffed her foot in her second boot and then shoved at his shoulder to walk past him. "Get in the house and close the door. It's a fucking ice box in there and you're letting out the heat." The door closed behind her and she swiped at her face for tears that she wasn't even able to form anymore as she headed to the back of the house and the woodpile, grateful for a reason to not have to be inside the house in that moment.

Daryl stepped further into the house, not taking off his jacket or boots as he approached the opposite wall, his fingers lifting up to press against the picture frame and he took in the sight of Carol with a wide smile, clutching a beautiful baby boy dressed in white with the winning smile of the boy's mother lit up the image, her arm slung around Carol's shoulders. It looked like it was from a christening. Andre's christening. Michonne's eyes were so - alive - as they shone at him from the picture. The little boy was pudgy and loved, surrounded by the two women who held him on display for the camera like he was the most prized treasure in the world.

"Carol" The voice sounded from behind her, slow and gentle and Carol moved to shake her head, heaving up on another log to throw it in the fire, her chest heaving. "Carol."

"Not now, Michonne." Carol whispered, feeling the tears building and the cold bit at her face. The air around her fell silent again, just as it always had been and she closed the wood furnace up, standing there at a loss for what to do now, not ready to go back inside. Her gaze darted around and landed on the truck, her gaze fell on the truck and she hesitated, looking back towards the front door nervously before taking a deep breath and starting towards the truck, her hand lifting up to the back of her neck as she gnawed roughly on her bottom lip, her gaze continuously flicking to the house as if someone was about to come out and catch her as she yanked open the door to slip inside.

Fire. A red hot fire lit up in Daryl's throat and he stumbled towards the kitchen sink, twisting the knob and throwing himself under the stream, his mouth gaping open as he took greedy gulps of the water as it poured over the side of his face. His entire body was trembling intensely as he tried to put out the fire burning him from the inside out. He choked on the stream of water and threw himself back away from the water. He heard voices yelling mutely, but he couldn't pull himself out of the fog to find his way towards them.

Flames licked at every inch of him from the inside, burning up any ropes of control that he had been clinging to in despiration. Puppet strings snapped and he just crumbled to the ground, useless and worthless. He had been responsible for taking the light out of those eyes. A woman - a mother, her baby boy - so innocent and happy. He took them away and he shrunk that woman - the survivor - down to nothing. He had stolen that light and kept himself running. How had he let himself forget what he had done?

"What are you doing?"

Her voice. Daryl's eyes snap towards the door, it is all he can clearly hear now. She almost seems to glow as she stands in the doorway, all pink cheeks and trembling fingers. He reaches a hand towards her absently before pulling them back. He can't touch her. His eyes are tortured by the ghosts held in the picture and he just wanted to disappear. He wants to speak to her, wants to apologize but the words are so heavy that they cant lift from the base of the throat, they're too weak. He is. So he sits on the floor and stares at the one thing in this world that remains in focus.

"You're tracking in the house." Carol crossed over to his side and reached her hand down to grasp his arm and tug on him to bring him to his feet. "You don't get to freak out. You don't get to do this..." Nodding to the floor before she let go of him and walked over to turn off the sink. "You can't slip out of reality. You have to be here. You have to deal." Her voice was cold as she twisted to look at him, narrowing her eyes at him. "You stay."

It was the hardest thing to do - to bite back that attack and swallow it down. He slowly moved up to his feet and shrugged out of his jacket and crossed to hang it up before nudging off his boots and leaving them on the rubber mat, nodding silently as he twisted to look back at her, as if he was waiting for her to tell him what to do next. His body was trembling a bit still with the struggle of holding back his anxiety attack, but he was keeping it down.

"Go join them... Ed and Merle... you go in there and sit and - be present. You notice them... every picture, every memory that they represent. You notice them. You look for them." Carol stepped forward, invading Daryl's space, even though her hands shook slightly as she chanced moving that close to the man and issuing a challenge. She curled her fists at her sides, bracing herself in case he decided to react and lash out, but she knew deep down that he wouldn't. That his older brother would be more likely to have that reaction than this boy. The heat radiated between them and sparks flew as her hand reached down to grasp his wrist in her palm, splaying her fingers out and encircling him there, giving him a tight squeeze.

"Yes." He almost panted the word, pulling his arm free and taking a step back, and then another, their gazes never breaking until he was in the doorway to the living room and he turned around to join his brother and her husband to 'watch the game'.