I'm having issues with my internet again so I wanted to post in case I disappear. I'm calling them again and hopefully the problem can be fixed since I think I pinpointed it myself. The Assclowns. Anyhow, hope all is well with you folks and thanks for reading!

Chapter Thirteen

On their way back to the warehouse Carol learned that Cassidy and Meredith, another woman that had once been with the men, had managed to take out two of the seven men that had ambushed them. They had came at them from all sides though and had probably been following them for a while. They knew the terrain better and had easily gotten the upper hand. They lost Meredith and Jane in the struggle.

She couldn't let herself feel the losses right now. Mercy and the other girls were safe. Terrified, of course, but safe. They had all gotten lucky. Somehow, she was sure she'd learn the details later, Merle had taken out the rest of the group after getting Cassidy untied. Merle had silently cleaned up the gash in the back of Carol's head. It wasn't as bad as she had thought it would be anyway.

She walked close to Daryl but he hadn't said anything. He had really lost it back there and she'd had a front row seat. Never had she seen him look like that. She had never seen anyone look like that, with such fury in their eyes. He was feeling it now, the aftermath of his actions starting to sink in. It was one thing to kill a man quickly because you had to but Daryl hadn't just done that. She didn't fault him for it. She hoped that he didn't fault himself. Those men, every one of them, deserved that and more for what they had done to other people.

But he was having trouble coming to terms with the level of violence and pain he had inflicted on the other man, whether the man deserved it or not. That was the difference between her would be rapist and men like Daryl. Daryl would resort to violence to protect the people that he cared about, where the others, they inflicted violence because it made them feel powerful.

They dispatched a small herd quickly and methodically, none of them saying a word as they worked. Even Mercy, who showed signs of a recent beating, did her duty to dispatch the dead that tried to surround them. When they finally made it to the warehouse everyone was dragging. Before she could go inside Cassidy turned around.

"I'll handle Mercy, okay," she nodded past Carol to where Daryl stood, "You handle your watch dog." Carol felt a flash of anger but then Cassidy smiled tiredly. "I was wrong. I don't like him but I saw what he did for you and I'm sorry. I need to let shit go and I know it. I'm working on it. I just... I just need a little time to adjust." With that she turned and headed into the building.

Carol stepped to the side as the others filed past, leaving her and Daryl alone. Even Merle was quiet as he stepped past her, his shoulders slumped like the weight of the whole world was sitting on them. She shut the door and turned just as Daryl raised his head, his eyes questioning and tired. She grabbed his hand and led him towards a large plastic tote that they had sat out to collect rainwater.

He wasn't a child so she didn't have to force him to wash up. What she really wanted was just a minute alone with him. She watched as he plunged his hands into the water, scrubbing the grime and blood away, his head hung as his fingers wrapped around the rim of the tote, his hair obscuring his face, making it difficult for her to read his expression.

"Are you okay?" She asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He looked up, his features hard, his eyes boring into hers. "You really gonna ask me that after what happened to you?" He asked sharply.

She swallowed hard. "Nothing happened to me."

That intense look melted away and he shook his head. "Somethin' could have. It damn near did. He'd have-"

"I know what he would have done. He took the liberty of describing to me, in great detail, the things he wanted to do. But he didn't get the chance. So, because of you, I'm perfectly fine. Not a scratch on me other than a ruined shirt. I want to know if you're okay."

He shook the water from his hands and then ran both hands through his hair, lacing his fingers at the back of his head. "I fuckin' lost it."

She nodded, taking a step closer. "You did, but I'm not gonna say that I felt sorry for the guy. I know what he's done. I know what he would have kept doing if you hadn't killed him."

"I didn't kill him, Carol," he said, matter of factly.

"You would have."

He shook his head. "I woulda let him suffer."

She reached out, pulling his arm down and then taking his hand. "I need to check your side and then we need to sleep and then tomorrow, I wanna go home."

He looked up sharply, his fingers tightening around hers. "The prison?"

She nodded. "There were some people... I just need to go back there. Even if it's just to make sure the kids are okay. I don't even have to go in as long as I can see." She didn't know why she felt the need to go back there. Maybe it was because she'd finally found what she had been missing. Now that Daryl was back in her life, she felt as though she deserved answers and the only person that could give her answers was Rick.

Once they made it to her room she lit the lantern, turning it down until it was just a soft glow, chasing some of the shadows away. She wasn't surprised to see that Merle wasn't there. He'd know that they needed a minute. Maybe he'd even find somewhere else to sleep since it seemed Cassidy wasn't planning on doing anything to either of them. She motioned towards the pallet on the floor and he sat down heavily, kicking his boots off and tossing them into the corner before stretching out with his arms folded behind his head.

She rummaged through her bag until she found a tank top that could pass as clean. The shirt she was wearing was ruined but she had tied it as best she could. "I look like a slutty hillbilly," she grumbled, looking down.

He raised up on his elbows and eyed her before he laughed softly, some of the tension fading.

She shook her head and turned her back on him, stripping out of the ruined shirt and slipping the other one over her head. Her pants were soaked as well from their hike through the rain and she honestly couldn't stand the thought of wearing anything that that man had touched. She stripped off the belt and tossed it into the corner before she glanced over her shoulder.

She was surprised to see that he was still propped up on his elbows and he was watching her with narrowed eyes, a look of anticipation in his gaze. She was wearing underwear. Sure, they had raided a lingerie store not far into the city and they didn't cover a whole lot but she was beyond being modest at this point. If he wanted to stare at her ass then he could stare all he wanted. It wasn't like she hadn't stared at him in all his naked glory.

"What the hell are you doin'?" He asked when her thumbs hooked into the waistband of her jeans.

She glanced over shoulder again and found him sitting all the way up. "Changing. This is my room." Without another word she shimmied out of her jeans and then bent over to pick up the sweats she had found in her bag. She knew him. He was probably lying there with his hands covering his eyes. That was just Daryl. After the night she'd had it was refreshing to-

When she turned around he was still sitting up, still watching her with one eyebrow raised.

~H~

He had absolutely no fucking business looking at her like that. None at all. She'd told him what she had been about to do and he had kept on watching like some kind of fucking creep. Now she was looking at him, obviously shocked that he'd had the audacity to stare at her barely concealed ass.

"You saw me naked," he blurted out before thinking. Like that was a valid excuse. It might have been if she hadn't just gone through what she had gone through tonight but right now, it wasn't right to want her the way he wanted her.

Her eyes slid down the front of him and he thought he saw the beginning of a blush on her cheeks but then she met his eyes again and nodded. "Take off your shirt."

"Huh?"

She held up a bottle of peroxide and shook it. "Head outta the gutter, Daryl. Your shirt's a mess and I know that the majority of the blood is yours."

He looked down and sure enough, his shirt wasn't just damp from the rain. He moved until he was on his knees but she gave him a small shove. He looked up at her.

"Off the bed. You're getting it wet," she grumbled.

He rolled his eyes at her and then stood up, moving off of the pile of blankets.

"This might help a little too," she said, pushing a bottle into his hands.

He held it up and was surprised to see that it was a fifth of Jim Beam. "When the hell did you become a drinker?" He asked as her fingers went to work on his shirt.

She shrugged. "It's a lonely world. I guess sometimes I felt a need to escape it."

Before his guilt could get the better of him he unscrewed the cap and took a few long pulls from the bottle. It burned on the way down, a familiar sting. When he finally came up for air he noticed that again, her eyes were trained on the faded scar from the farm. She seemed to shake herself and then got to work gently scrubbing the blood away from his cut. At least this time she wasn't in the mood to deliberately hurt him.

The whiskey warmed him up and took the edge off but he screwed the cap back on after just one more drink. He didn't want to get drunk. He was still in an odd place after doing what he did. He almost felt numb.

She didn't waste any time getting the wound cleaned up and covered with a fresh bandage. She took the bottle from him and hid it under some clothes in her bag after taking a few long pulls herself. It was strange, just another thing about her that had changed since last time he had seen her. When she turned she tossed him a pair of sweats that looked a size too big even for him. "I want us to get as much sleep as we can before we head out and you'll sleep better in those. I'll have to talk to the girls about us heading to the prison but I know they'll be okay with it."

He held up the pants and eyed her. "Are you gonna turn around?"

"Did you?" She asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

He stood there eying her, not making a move to change. It was one thing to be an innocent victim of a peeping Tom but he wasn't going to strip naked in front of her knowing she was watching him. Finally she rolled her eyes and turned her back.

He worked his belt off quickly, tossing it into the corner with hers before he hurriedly changed into the sweats. He looked down and scowled. Sure, they were soft and warm and comfortable but he wasn't used to it and he felt like his junk was on display.

"Are you decent?" She asked sarcastically.

He balled up his jeans and threw them in the corner. "I'm decent."

She turned then, her eyes raking over him. "Not bad."

"Shut up," he muttered, collapsing onto the pile of blankets again, groaning. "I'm fuckin' beat."

"How did you know?" She asked, her knees hitting the blankets next to his hips. "When I left you were dead on your feet. How did you know I needed you?"

He stared up at the ceiling, unsure if he should tell her about the uneasy feeling he had woken up with. He finally decided that it wouldn't hurt to be honest with her. "I don't know. I was asleep and I woke up and somethin' just didn't feel right. I just knew I needed to get to wherever the hell you were before somethin' happened." He turned his head, meeting her eyes.

She was looking down at her hands, fidgeting in her lap. "I thought it was over. All of it. I thought for sure that they'd kill me before you'd even realize I wasn't back."

"Nothin' happened. You lost a few people, and that ain't no small thing, but you're alive. That's about all I'm able to care about right now. I didn't know if I'd get there in time."

"Why do you care so much? After all this time?"

He came up on his elbows again, his heart hammering hard in his chest but he knew he had to say it. He had to say it because it was stupid to keep something locked up, waiting for the right time, when their time was so precarious. "I left because I was too fuckin' stupid and too fuckin' scared to face anything. You were right. I knew exactly how you felt and I tucked tail and ran cause I didn't want it. I didn't want to give in and then have to watch you die. I didn't wanna let anybody in cause it was too goddamn dangerous. Merle was an out. That was why I left. But that didn't mean that I didn't feel the same fucking way you felt."

She blinked, looking up, and there was no sign of the new woman in her face. He was looking at his Carol. Not the hard and bitter warrior that he had found. "And now?" She asked, even sounding like her former self.

He wanted to look away but he wouldn't. He wanted to shrug off the question but he wouldn't do that either. "I'm here ain't I?"

She nodded and he sat up, waiting her out, knowing that their was probably a storm brewing inside of her and he wasn't good enough or experienced enough at this kind of shit to know what to say. When she finally looked back up from her hands she met his eyes. "I'm not the same person you knew. I've killed. I've done things that the old me would never do. The person you cared so much about-"

"The person I care about has been through a whole goddamn lot of shit, has always gone through shit, and she rebuilt herself into somebody that could shoulder that shit. You're you. I'm me. Period. If you don't want it then tell me you don't want it and I'll get over it but don't make up flimsy excuses. We're past that." The alcohol was giving him the courage to say things that he never would have been able to bring himself to say and he was thankful for it.

"So, what does this mean?" She asked after a few agonizing moments.

He shrugged then. "I guess it means whatever you want it to mean. The ball's in your court now."