Author's Note: Another larger chapter. Now I'm in the mood for all this angsty hurty Carol and Daryl the words are coming out like projectile vomit. Thank you for reading/reviewing/tumblr'ing.

TWDTWDTWD

It took almost two hours to reach the others. The three of them hardly exchanged a word in the truck the whole way there. Beth had fallen asleep, she had scrunched herself into a ball, her head resting in Carol's lap, hands twisting the edges of Carol's coat close to her face. She stroked the young girl's hair rhythmically. She seemed so much younger than sixteen now her tears had left tracks down her smooth cheeks.

Carol was pressed up against Daryl, her hand resting in his lap, tangled up in his. He only pulled free to change gear occassionally. He seemed to know where they were headed, even without a map and she didn't question it. She had always trusted him, but tonight, tonight cemented the fact in her heart. She would never question anything he ever did.

The pounding in her head had returned when she finally had time to think about it. But she wasn't dizzy any longer and it did begin to ease off, thankfully. The last thing they needed was a serious head injury. Everything else was less troubling. There was an awful lot of blood but Carol suspected it wasn't as bad as it looked. Her lip had swollen, she could feel it pushing against her teeth and the taste of blood, both hers and Andrew's, was beginning to bother her. She'd tried to take a sip from a bottle of water that was stashed under the bench, but it was too sore to press the plastic rim to her lips, so she put up with the taste. Her neck was sore, as was her stomach and her breast, she was confident that by tomorrow they'd be black with bruises. Her hands were bright red, stained with blood but a lot wasn't her own and most of the cuts were inflicted fighting him off. Overall, she'd got away a lot easier than she could've.

Not that Daryl saw it that way. She could tell he was trying desperately not to look at her like she was dying. She knew she must look a fright and he looked at her in disbelief when she told him she was alright.

She had asked him if he was ok, but he didn't answer her. He shouldn't be alright. He just shot his brother and left him for dead. He just squeezed her fingers that little bit tighter, eyes fixed on the road ahead.

She nudged Beth awake when she saw Glenn's car parked up just as they crossed the border into Alabama, their final meeting point. From what Carol could see, only Maggie and Glenn were in the car. Beth scrambled for the door handle, desperate to greet her sister, but Maggie threw a warning hand out the window and Glenn pulled off, expecting them to follow.

"Where's Rick and the rest?" She murmured to Daryl. Surely they must have made it? It was almost dawn now, but it seemed like the last time she saw them was days ago, not a few hours.

"Hershel ain't in their car, he definitely got in it. They musta holed up already." He muttered back and as if Glenn could hear their words, they turned down into a dirt track and Carol could see a house in the distance, flickering light in one of the downstairs windows. The door flung open as they approached, the rest of the group gathering to witness their arrival.

Beth hopped out before they could even park up, racing to clutch her father, sobbing the whole way. Carol let out a sigh of contentment, some safety at last, for however long, was a blessing and a relief.

Daryl opened the door without letting go of her hand and she realised she would need help to get out of the high cab of the truck, sitting still for such a length of time meant her bruised bones were aching as she moved.

"Did you get into a fender bender? Dude, what the hell happened?" Glenn came over, shotgun in hand and did a double take when he saw Daryl helping her step down off the running board. Carol clutched her ruined shirt with one hand, leaning on Daryl with the other. "Shit. What the hell happened? Are you ok, Carol?"

He leant in to touch her shoulder, but she recoiled before he made contact. It was a reaction she couldn't control. She didn't fear Glenn, the boy was a sweetheart but the way he barrelled closer to her was unnerving. He backed up on seeing her face, turning back to Daryl for explanation.

She looked up to see the others on the porch, Lori had a hand over her mouth, looking down at them with horror. Carol averted her gaze as she and Daryl hobbled up the steps, ignoring them all, because if she saw another horrified look she would burst into tears and that would only make her pounding head worse.

"Daryl." Rick followed them in, he had been half listening to Beth's ramble about how they nearly died and Carol shot a man in the face. She was babbling to her father so fast that Carol could only pick out the odd word. Carol. Choking. Blood. Gun. Dead. It seemed like a good summary.

"Did you find Merle? We didn't see him or the other one." Rick lead them into the kitchen, where Lori had clearly been attempting to hang clothes. Carol wondered how long they'd been here, hours by the look of things. There was fire in another room, she could feel the heat coming from behind her, the food was lined up on the kitchen counters.

She look up at Daryl as she eased into the chair at the kitchen table and he studiously avoided the question. He looked back at her and she knew he was holding back. Holding back anger, tears or fear. She couldn't tell.

"We saw them both." She answered Rick, words slurring slightly from her fat lip.

Hershel pulled himself away from Beth, inspecting the cut on her forehead. "I hit my head on the dash when we crashed." She explained. "They forced us off the road." She swallowed thickly. She would have to be the one to tell the whole sorry story. "Daryl got out to go...deal with them. There was the one from before, some other guy and Merle. Andrew forced his way into the car. I...that's how I got the rest of the..." She waved her hand over herself and she saw Rick turn away in revulsion, he was the first to realise what she meant. What Andrew wanted to do.

"I dropped the gun." She looked at Daryl, sat beside her, head in his hands. "That's why it got this bad. Found it under the gas pedal. I killed him." She told them plainly. Truth was, killing him was easier than she thought. There was no other way. "Daryl took care of the other one. He tried to give Merle another option...but..." She tailed off.

Daryl sat up. "I shot him. I left him a car but I took his gun. If he ain't bled out or Walkers ain't bit him then maybe he'd make it. I don't care." He stood up, shrugging off his jacket. "Can you fix her up or what?" He gestured for Hershel to get moving. The bravado returned, the mask was back on.

"Maggie, would you get my bag from the truck please?" Carol asked the girl, who was standing in the doorway, clutching her sister's hand. No doubt the fact that it could be Beth sitting at the table instead of Carol weighed on her mind. She nodded and did as was asked.

Nobody seemed to be able to say anything, do anything. They just gaped at her as if she was a sideshow. "Lori, there any dry clothes about?"

Lori jumped at the words spoken in her direction. "I'll find something. Carl, come help." She lead her son out of the room and this seemed to mobilise everyone else. Hershel went hunting for his meagre amount of medical supplies whilst Glenn and T-Dog left the room, presumably going to keep watch.

He watched her nervously from across the kitchen as Hershel inspected her head injury. Biting his nails, strumming his hand across the counter top, he watched as she winced as the old man cleaned the wound, debating out loud about whether attempting stitches would be necessary. He wanted to snatch the damp cloth from him and do it himself but he knew that despite his frustration, the best man was doing the job. Eventually, Hershel moved onto her lip and once the blood was removed from her face, he found she was less painful to look at.

He had failed her. He left the truck to protect her and he failed. She was forced to kill another human being to protect herself and Beth. He thought that was perhaps worse than the injuries she had inflicted on her. He then realised that tonight was the first time he had killed another man too. Walkers, sure, he couldn't even begin to count how many of them he had killed. But never another member of the living. There was no guilt for that. It was fight or die. Merle was probably dead. He didn't regret it. That wasn't his brother anymore. His family was sitting in this kitchen.

Eventually Lori returned, bearing a clean shirt and jeans that were ripped and torn, clearly looking like they had seen better days. "They're from upstairs. I think they'll be a little big, but that's all there is until tomorrow." Carol nodded her thanks.

"Will anyone mind if I take the bowl to wash up a little?" She asked as Hershel finished with her face.

"I'll fix you up a hot bowl, give you a hand if you want." Lori offered. "I think there's a box of painkillers somewhere too. We've got plenty of beds upstairs and I'm sure everyone will agree that we need to stay put for a couple of days, give you a little time to rest up." Lori shot Rick a look that Daryl didn't miss, one that suggested that what she said would happen, whether Rick liked it or not. Lori took the bowl away, fussing to get the water hot again, before leaving the room with the clothes, setting up a room for Carol, she assumed.

"Carol, before you do anything, I'd like to check your ribs, make sure you've got nothing broken." Hershel said, taking a seat the other side of her. "I can see some nasty bruising is going to pop up. Need to see if we need to bind you up."

Carol looked down, drawing her shirt closer together. "No. It's fine. Honestly. I've cracked ribs before, I know what to look for. I'll call you if I need anything. Thank you." Her voice was small, quiet. Daryl had to grip the table in anger. He knew how she'd sustained broken ribs in the past and it made him wish Ed Peletier was alive just so he could kill him again.

She picked up the bag that Maggie had left for her on the table, movements slow and awkward as she navigated her way through the unfamiliar house, seeking out the stairs. She could feel him following her, just a step behind. She gave him a backwards glance, but she didn't say anything. She knew he wanted to get away from them, avoid answering more questions.

She hissed as she took the first step, pain rushing through her whole body. Daryl caught her by the elbow. "Let me carry you." He muttered. She didn't protest as he slipped an arm behind her knees and she put her arms around his neck before he pulled her legs from under her, his other arm gripping her back.

Lori was fussing in a room that was opposite the top of the winding stairs, pulling the duvet back and plumping pillows. Daryl set her down gently on the bed and Lori bent down to pull Carol's shoes off her feet.

"I'm okay Lori, honestly. I'll call if I need anything." She touched her hand to the other woman's shoulder, letting her know it wasn't a personal slight.

"You sure, honey? I mean, you can't even get up the stairs."

"I'll do it." Daryl muttered from his position in the door way. Carol looked up at him, a little surprised. But she nodded quickly to Lori, agreeing. She couldn't stand the fussing right now and if she knew anything about Daryl Dixon, it was that he couldn't stand fussing either.

"Alright." Lori responded, pulling herself from the floor. "Call me if you need me, we're in the bedroom next door." The door closed with a soft click.

Daryl kneeled in front of her, taking the spot Lori had just vacated and started unlacing her sneakers.

"I can do it." She protested, pulling her foot away, but he held her ankle firmly.

"I got it." He told her, pulling the offending items off. It was like he was undressing a china doll. He worked with a featherlight touch, peeling her socks from her feet and then her coat, one arm at a time so he didn't pull any of her tender muscles. He didn't say anything to her as he rubbed the cloth over her hands, washing away at the sticky red marks. He inspected both sides of her hands for cuts or grazes and when she caught sight of the dirt under her nails, she wanted to heave. It was skin and blood, that man's. Daryl looked up at her on hearing her gasp and she was infinitely grateful when he pushed his own nail under each of hers, removing every last trace of Andrew, without her having to tell him why she looked so horrified.

Eventually, she knew she was going to have to let him check her ribs. She wasn't entirely certain that she hadn't broken any, despite what she said to Hershel. She released her shirt, shrugging it off one shoulder.

Daryl froze from his position in front of her. "It's fine." She muttered to him, giving him a small smile. "Really. There's nothing to hide anymore, is there?" And there wasn't, was there? He had seen her naked before, or pretty close to it. He had seen her at her worst. He had seen her at her best. Tonight, when she put that gun to Andrew's forehead and took charge of what happened to her, that was her best. There was nothing Daryl shouldn't see anymore.

He nodded, helping her ease the shirt from her other shoulder. He ran the cloth over her neck and shoulders, taking care over the front of the neck, where his hand print had marked her skin, leaving angry red welts. Carol flexed an arm behind her back experimentally, flinching as it pulled at her stomach muscles.

"Don't." He chasitised her, pushing her arm back down.

"I need to take my bra off." She told him. Her breast ached where Andrew had pulled at her skin, the material was rubbing against it now and she wasn't even embarrassed to ask him to help her with this. Anything to dull the soreness.

He let out a sigh, his breath touching her shoulder, before he leant behind her to fiddle with the clasp. He fumbled with the clip and she stifled a chuckle. Only a moment ago, his touch had been so light she could barely feel it and now he was clumsy, fingers pulling at the elastic like a teenage boy. Eventually, the clip came free and she pressed her hands to her chest to catch the material as it sprung forward.

He washed her back, although it ached, she felt certain that there would be no blood there. Still, it had been a few days since they had last had a proper wash and it would be nice to feel clean.

He cleared his throat, returning the cloth to the water bowl. "I need to check your ribs."

She nodded. "How do you want me?" She blushed at how the words sounded and she thought she saw colour in his cheeks too, although it was hard to tell in the early morning light that poured through the window.

"Lie down."

She did as he asked, still clutching the bra to her chest, forcing her breathing to return to normal. It hurt to have her stomach flutter like this. He picked up her feet, resting them on the bed and sat beside her.

"It's gonna hurt a little." He warned her. She nodded and closed her eyes. He started at the bottom of her rib cage, fingers pressing along each bone, from each side into the middle before moving onto the next one.

Daryl felt a little bit sick when he saw how skinny she'd gotten. He'd seen her only a few days before, but it was a fleeting look and he was more focused on the artwork on her side than spotting how her ribs jutted out of her skin. Her hip bones were all angles, as if they would break if she bumped something. It was probably her skinniness that caused her such pain when she took the injuries to her stomach and chest. He would work harder to ensure she got a better meal. He owed her that at least.

She flinched as he worked his way upwards, where her skin was already beginning to discolour and he tried to ease up the pressure as much as he could. His fingers lingered over her tattoo and he realised that it wasn't one flower, but several. Cherry blossom flowers. Her head twisted down to look at him when she realised his fingers had stopped moving.

"I was drunk." She told him, a smile in her voice. "I wish I could say there was something deep and meaningful to it. It was the last day of college and I was blind drunk."

"I figured." He let himself smile as his fingers continued skimming her stomach. "Did ya enjoy college?"

"Every minute." She told him.

"Then there's ya meanin'." He stopped his movement as he came to the top of her stomach, right under her chest. She felt his hands brush against hers and she let the bra fall away, hands going to her sides.

"Huh. I guess you're right." She felt him take a deep breath as he worked over her chest, but she kept her gaze averted, sparing him his blushes. Not hers. Nothing to hide, she reminded herself.

She was beautiful, he decided as he ran the cooling cloth over her front. Even though she was so thin he was positive she could snap and she was covered in cuts and bruises, he was pretty sure that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He felt her chest rise and fall underneath his palm and he had to fight back the urge to kiss her. He scolded himself for even thinking such a thing when she had just been inches from being raped.

"Done." He told her, finally. "I don't think anythin's broken." He took her arm to help her up, taking the clean shirt from the bottom of the bed to put on her. He could feel her eyes watching him as he threaded her arms into the sleeves, taking his time to do up the buttons without fumbling. As he reached the top, he felt her breath on his forehead, he lifted his head up to look at her and without warning, she pressed her mouth to his.

It took him a second to register what she was doing and as she put a hand to his head, fingers winding through his hair, he finally managed to respond, pushing his tongue into her open mouth. There was an urgency in her pace, she kissed him as though he would be ripped from her at any moment and he responded in kind, hands resting on her hips, bringing her closer to him, sliding under her shirt. Her grip on his hair was almost painful.

Suddenly, she pulled her mouth from his, pain on her features and his hands withdrew from her immediately.

"Sorry." He muttered, pulling away from her. He had pushed her too far.

"No." She murmured, pulling him back. "It's just my lip..." She touched a hand to her mouth and he could see the cut had split again.

"Shit." He mumbled, reaching over her for the cloth to dab at her lip but she pulled his hand back to her, resting it back on her hip.

"It's okay." She told him in a whisper. She pressed her fingers to his lips and he grasped her hand to kiss them. "Stay with me?" She asked.

He nodded, pulling back the quilt to allow her to slip in. She fumbled at her waistband, unbuttoning her jeans and he knelt down to help her pull them from her ankles before slipping off his own boots. He pushed her clothes from the bed as she settled herself into the mattress, trying to find a position that would be comfortable. He slid in next to her, inches apart, frightened to touch her in case he hurt her.

Carol reached over for his hand, clasping it with both her own, resting it against her breast plate. He turned on his side to face her, watching her as she stroked his fingers.

"I'm sorry I didn't stop this happenin' to you." He told her softly, his other hand brushing her cheek.

She turned to look at him sharply. "Don't you ever be sorry for this. If it wasn't for you, I would't even be here." Her voice was fierce. "Don't you ever say that to me again."

Daryl just swallowed and looked at her, before giving the smallest of nods. He pushed himself as close as he dared, his legs touching hers.

"You're my family too." She told him, closing her eyes.

His heart skipped a beat as he closed his own.