Noxi: Thank you for continuing to read. This is a dedicated piece with far too much in it. But all of your support and reviews are greatly appreciated.

And thank you to BulletTimeScully, again, for an insight of how horses smell.

Warnings: Contains mentions of Abuse, Child Abuse, Domestic Abuse, Violence, Angst, Language, Manipulation of Religion, Religious Undertones, and Hinted at Animal Abuse.

The Walking Dead belongs to Kirkman and AMC.

Lost

He sat against the wall; hands stuffed into his pockets to try and shake the feel of her soft, calloused one in his. His legs twitched with the urge to run, and if he hadn't been outside he would have felt like he was suffocating.

But he wasn't. And he still felt like he couldn't breathe right.

"How long has she been out there?" He flinched, taking several steps back as the man, Dale, stepped out from the stables rubbing his hands off on a towel. Dale didn't seem to notice his reaction, so he just tucked his head down further, and shrugged his shoulders.

Dale sighed, shaking his head.

"I always knew Ed was capable of some bad things but this?" Dale looked at him, and Daryl averted his gaze quickly, finding the woman's back, Carol, again. She was sitting in the middle of the field, head turned to the sky.

Daryl didn't know what she was thinking out there, but he was unsure of what he was supposed to do now. He'd never experienced someone reacting the way she had. It was like something precious, and irreplaceable had been taken away and no one could make her feel better. It was like she was lost.

If he was bein' honest, he was fuckin' scared of it all. She'd been cryin' and clutching at Dale like she needed to be held up physically. She was frantic. He'd never seen nobody react that way. He didn't think she had it in her. Especially not after this morning.

"I'm Carol," she said softly, extending her hand out to him, still smiling. Her lip still bled, and the bruises along her body were the only thing he could focus on. But then he looked into her eyes, and he knew. He knew he was lost.

Dale sighed next to him. "Think you can watch her?" he asked, pulling Daryl out of the memory.

Daryl looked at the old man like he was fucking crazy. Watch her? What was he supposed to do if she started doin' all that shit again? What if she needed a – a fuckin' hug or somethin'? He didn't do touchin'.

"I've gotta run to Hershel's to pick up the feed, see Martinez and Tyreese about fixing the roof," he grumbled. He started, lips parting slightly as if to say something. He could fix a fuckin' roof with his hands tied behind his back and his eyes blindfolded. He knew how to fix shit, but he weren't gonna offer up that bit of information once he knew what he was in for.

"And then Sophia needs to be picked up from school later," he said absently, watching Carol with that sad, pitying look on his face. He hated that look. Hated everything it stood for. People never understood that it was the worst fuckin' thing you could do for'em. Course, he didn't know if this Carol lady was same way. Maybe she liked that kinda shit. Maybe she wanted people to feel sorry for her.

But somethin' told him that she didn't. Else why would she have smiled that stupid fuckin' smile on her face while she was lyin' on the floor, face beat up from her own damn husband?

"If you want, you can take your things into the cabin and get yourself settled. Just…keep an eye on her?" He swallowed hard, and looked out at her.

She'd been sitting there for two hours now, and nothing that Dale had done could bring her away. She just sat, knees curled to her chest, crying silently.

"Daryl, right?" He turned to Dale, not liking the way his name came out of the man's mouth. It was like he was already settlin' into this place when he wasn't even sure he wanted to stay.

"I don't know anything about you son," he started and Daryl felt his jaw snap shut, and he fists clench at his sides.

"Ain't yer fuckin' son," he growled out. Dale didn't react, but for the grimace of his face. And for a moment he thought Dale was gonna walk away. He hated it when people, men, did that. What the hell did that mean anyway? Callin' him son like that, like he was fuckin' theirs. He weren't nobody's son and he sure as hell weren't gonna start. He'd never been a son, and he'd never been a good son at that and he never knew what no son was like.

Dale put his hands up, somethin' he'd seen plenty of people do when he got pissed. He'd done it to calm a wild animal caught in a trap before. Suddenly, he didn't like the way it felt from the other side.

"I was just goin' to say that even though I don't know much about you, I think I can trust Carol to ya," he finished with a sigh. Daryl curled inward, not liking the feel of anybody needin' him. He didn't want that to start now.

He couldn't take care a nobody. Never been able to before. He'd been fuckin' up his whole life, and to put somebody's life into his hands, especially a woman's was like asking for hell to break loose.

"Can't take care a nobody," he muttered, shifting away from Dale. And it were true. He shifted his arms, adjusting his shirt, suddenly feeling self-conscious about the tattoo, the reminder, on his chest. He'd never been able to take care a nothing.

He squeezed his hand tight, nails digging into his palms as he tried to erase the feeling she had left behind.

He knew Dale were watchin' him, could feel his stare hot on his face. But Dale just sighed again and, gratefully, started walking away. But not before leaving a few words behind.

"Don't mean ya can't start now." He watched Dale walk away, his stomach twisting and his throat dry, hand tingling in his pocket.

xxx

The cabin wasn't much, but he didn't mind. Honestly, he'd never had nothing to call his own before. And this really wasn't his if he thought about it, but there weren't nobody around to tell him otherwise either. It was his own fuckin' space and he'd take it.

He dropped his sack of belongings on the small twin bed and propped his crossbow along the wall. He wasn't sure how his new landlords were going to take to it, but he weren't giving it up. Was the only thing he'd ever had that kept him safe, and his belly full and nobody was takin' that away from him.

He couldn't believe he had a fuckin' toilet in here neither. He walked over to the thing, admirin' it like it was some goddamn golden prize. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen one that weren't covered in grime, or had the seat fallin' off. Couldn't remember the last time he felt like it would be okay if he used it.

He shook his head. He hated that he were a piece a fuckin' trash. Didn't have nothin' like this. No toilet's in the house, nice sheets on the bed, and a clean floor. Hell, this was the nicest lookin' place he'd seen in a long time.

He hated what that said about him.

Daryl stormed out of the cabin before it made him any angrier, door snappin' shut behind him. He stared out at the farm around him, takin' in the natural beauty of it, and hated it. Hated that he wanted it. He clenched his jaw, and started walking away.

And as much as he didn't want to go back out there, he couldn't help but find his feet draggin' him back to that damn fence. He skirted around the stable, the sound of the horses sending a chill down his back. He'd avoid the beasts for as long as he could.

He didn't know what he was doin' out here, watching her. Weren't like it were gonna do any good. She didn't want nobody, didn't want no comfort. But he couldn't get her outta his mind. He stopped at the gate, resting his arms along the post. Watchin' her out there, small against the wide blue sky and the mountains suddenly made her seem so much more fragile, and weak. He looked down at his hand, making a fist. Could stop thinkin' about her hand in his, the way her fingers had slid across his palm.

Softest touch he'd ever felt.

He didn't know what to do about that. Just like he didn't know what to do earlier either.

He wasn't sure what to do. The smile on her face was forced and he knew she had to be hurtin'. Could see it in her eyes. He'd felt that same kind a pain for years. Knew it like the back a his hand. Knew it as intimately as warm bodies twisted together and breath mingling with the other. Course, he didn't know shit about that either. Just seen it too many times to count or know if sex was something people ever did because they cared anymore.

She stood up, legs shaking, and brushed herself off. He cleared his throat nervously and took a step back. He didn't want to be a part a this. Andrea never mentioned no wife, and certainly not no fuckin' kid.

Maybe he should a figured that shit out on his own, but hell. He'd seen Peletier and there weren't no way on this fuckin' earth that he figured anyone would want to be married to that ass.

She looked up to meet his eyes again, and he froze. She watched him a moment, and this time the pain was gone. He didn't know where she'd pushed it, or how she'd done it so fast. But her lips relaxed, and her eyes softened around the corners. And he felt something shift inside of him.

"I'm Carol," she said softly, extending her hand out to him, that smile soft and inviting. Her lip still bled, and the bruises along her body made his own scars tingle. But he couldn't stop looking into her eyes. How many women had looked at him like that – like they weren't judging him? Like he weren't some redneck piece a trash? Like he weren't worth nothing? Before he could stop himself he was falling into the tenderness of those eyes. He'd never felt so accepted, like it was all gonna be okay. As if this was exactly where he was supposed to be. He was lost in those eyes.

And before he knew it he was reaching out to tentatively grasp her hand with his, the softness enveloping his rough, hard one. He winced, almost pulling back because he didn't want her to feel the scars on his hand, to know that roughness of it. But she just gripped his hand firmly, and gave it a slight squeeze.

Her smile broadened and he was spinning out of control. His heart was pounding in his chest, and his palms started sweating and he needed to get the hell out of there. He couldn't do this.

But then she pulled her hand away, thankfully, and he was swallowing hard, licking at his lips to wet them. His mouth had gone dry. Why the fuck was this happening to him? What the hell was he doing getting all weird around this lady?

He didn't know why his heart was jumping out of his chest, or why his palms were sweating or why he suddenly had to get the hell out of there. But he really wanted to get the hell out of there.

"Something I can help you with?" she asked gently, head tipping to the side a little. He took a step backward, needing more space than he realized he had. She was bein' too nice to some guy she just met, some guy she didn't even have a name for. Hell, he could a been some fuckin' serial killer or somethin'.

"I…" still not enough space, so he took two more steps back until he was at the edge of the stairs. Her eyes narrowed in confusion and she took a step forward, unsure.

"I'm, uh, new round here," he muttered out like some goddamn idiot who didn't know how to produce two fuckin' words. Course she would know that. Everybody knew who was who in a small town.

Fuck.

He went down the stairs then, scratching at his head, feeling everything come rushing at him. This was the wrong place. He couldn't do this here. This wasn't home. This was everything but home.

She smiled and followed him slowly out the door, stopping at the top of the steps, wrapping her arms around her waist.

"What's your name?" she asked softly, hesitantly. He looked into those eyes one more time.

And there was something about'em that he couldn't quite place. Something about them had the word tumbling out of his mouth before he could wonder, before he could even think to stop it.

"Daryl," he murmured, his name rolling off his tongue like he didn't have no control over it. He cursed himself for being so damn careless with it. He scuffed his foot on the ground, head lowered and turned away from her.

"Daryl," she repeated, staying where she was at the top of the steps. Something tugged in his chest, and he liked the way his name rolled off her tongue. Didn't like that he liked it, but he did all the same. He took a glance up, and saw that she wasn't even looking at him now. She was staring at the farm, letting the silence fall between them.

She sighed heavily, and gripped her arms tight, wincing when she pulled on the bruise.

"You wouldn't happen to need work, would you?" She asked with a small chuckle, her voice catching at the end. Daryl could see her eyes filling up with tears, but they never went any further. He watched as her nails dug into her arms, teeth pulling on her bottom lip.

His chest tightened. He'd never wanted to beg for work, and he certainly wouldn't have put it out there that he was lookin' for it after what he just saw. But something about the way she asked it, like it was the smallest hope she was clinging to. Now he wasn't sure he could say no.

"Maybe," he muttered, shifting his weight, lookin' away. But he could feel her eyes on him and he couldn't not look back at her. Her eyes had grown wide against her face, the smallest bit of hope coming back.

"Really?" she whispered, and the hope in her voice, in her eyes all but crushed him. He was in it now. Weren't no goin' back. She flew down the steps, stopping just before him and he couldn't help but back away as she did.

Carol didn't notice she was so fuckin' happy about it.

"Do you really need work?" she asked again, eyes searching out his face, and he swallowed hard. He rubbed the back of his neck, couldn't find the right way to breathe, but there weren't any other answer were there?

He wanted to work here, needed it regardless of whatever shit was goin' on. Andrea was right. If he just did his work, and went on with his way it shouldn't be a problem should it?

He sighed, letting his shoulders sag. "Yeah," he admitted weakly. He could just hear Merle now, laughing his fuckin' head off at him. Callin' him a fool, gettin' himself caught up in some damn soap opera.

He should walk away right now. Walk away before he got in too deep.

But the way Carol's eyes lit up you would have thought he'd just given her the world on a silver platter.

Carol reached out and took hold of his hand. He stiffened in response but didn't pull back. Didn't want to make her uncomfortable, didn't want her think he was fucked in the head. He just pushed back the risin' fear and let her hold his hand gently.

Daryl didn't think he'd ever like the feel of someone's hand in his, but he was starting to think he'd been missing something.

"Please," she begged softly, and he hated that she did that. She didn't need to beg him for shit. "I know what I must look like, but…" she swallowed, her throat bobbing with the motion. Carol pulled her hand away then, biting her bottom lip.

He watched it start to bleed once more, and he wanted to tell her to stop. But he didn't. Those green eyes sought him out once more, and he couldn't look away. "Our ranch hand just quit the other day. Didn't leave us with any warning," she murmured softly. "It doesn't matter if you don't have any experience, or if you hate me, or if you-"

He held up a hand to stop her. He didn't want to hear any more of that shit, and he sure as hell didn't want her to keep talkin' like she deserved to be walked all over. He'd lived with that shit his whole life and he weren't gonna listen to someone else talk the same way.

"Save it," he barked, regretting his decision already. She flinched, and as much as he hated to see that he weren't gonna apologize for it. "Just need work." She pulled her bottom lip in, and smiled hesitantly.

"But I don't got any experience with horses," he muttered, looking away embarrassed. He didn't want to tell her that they made him fuckin' nervous. She breathed a sigh, her hand falling to her chest.

"Thank you," she said with so much gratitude that he actually felt sick to his stomach. What did she have to thank him for? She was the one giving him a job. What would happen if he hadn't said yes? What would a happened if she hadn't found someone to replace the asshole who'd left?

He was thinkin' he didn't want to know.

Carol took a breath, her shoulders relaxing and then she smiled up at him. "Let me show you around then, and we can talk terms of employment?" He chewed the skin at his nail, more than nervous now, and just shrugged his shoulders. Didn't really matter what she had him doin'. Work was work. He'd keep his fuckin' nose to the ground and see where this went.

And now he had a damn place to hisself, makin' more money than he thought he would of. He had work and a place to live all in two days a comin' to this town. Maybe somebody was lookin' out fer him.

Course, he was gonna have to learn how to work with horses.

He felt a chill go up his back and he shook himself.

He wasn't sure how he felt about Dale, but he didn't seem too bad. Carol seemed to like him, cause she didn't stop talkin' bout him once she started. But he'd have to make his own judgments on that. He didn't trust nobody. Not less they earned it.

Was why he didn't want to get too comfortable here. If this didn't work out, then he'd have to bail. Not that he liked the idea of that either, especially after what the last asshole did. But he'd take care of himself first.

Just that…

He watched Carol. Could see in the set of her shoulders the ache that she was carrying. The pain that she was suffering. The sorrow that she was releasing. Weren't nothing anybody could do about that.

She just wanted Sky.

Whoever the fuck that was. Dale said it was some damn horse, but he didn't get it really.

But then, he couldn't really blame her either. When all ya got is this he wondered if the only things ya ended up lovin' were the things that came to rely on ya. And he remembered the look on her face when she took him through that stable just earlier, and how she lit up.

He didn't think she could look so damn happy. Especially not round no horses.

She walked ahead of him, and he couldn't help but notice a little hop to her walk.

"Dale's my foreman. He helps me run the farm. Does what maintenance he can," she trailed off, looking over her shoulder to smile at him. He just grunted, taking in the huge herd of cattle he'd missed before. Lot a fuckin' beasts. He didn't know how in the hell they managed that. He noted a tool shed, and a small cabin off the side to the stable. Didn't think it was much but a storehouse for shit. Figures they had all this fuckin' room.

"We've got a cabin, over there," she said, pointing out the very building he'd just dismissed. "It's where you can stay," she said softer now, a little shyly. He stopped, unable to process what she'd just said. Where he could stay? As in live?

"'Scuse me?" She turned to face him, confusion clear across her face.

"I'm sorry? Did I say something wrong?" He looked at the cabin. It was small but it wasn't like it mattered. They had a fuckin' cabin set away just for him?

"A cabin," he repeated, dumbfounded, "for me?" She smiled softly, waiting for him to catch onto it. To let it sink in. She nodded her head when the silence between them stretched on.

He scratched the back of his head, discomfort growing bigger by the second. He didn't like being no damn charity case.

"Ain't no damn charity case," he growled out. Carol's eyes widened, her hands coming up.

"Oh no," she said hurriedly, "it's nothing like that. We remodeled that thing ages ago. For whoever worked on the farm. Last ranch hand lived there too." He watched her face for any kind of lie, but he couldn't see it. She just kept that soft smile, and the warmth in her eyes.

He shifted, shoulders slumping. "So I can live there?" He hated that fuckin' hope that slipped through his voice. What were the chances that he'd find a goldmine like this?

"Only if you want too," she murmured, her gaze slipping from his, eyes going dark. He looked away. How many people had left because of her situation? How many people had walked away?

Couldn't say he'd blame'em. Weren't like this was one big happy fuckin' family.

But he'd lived through worse shit, and he needed work and he weren't gonna let some fuckin' dick run him off.

He sighed, runnin' a hand through his hair.

"Needed a place to stay anyway," he muttered. And he couldn't stop his gut from twisting at the way her smile graced her features. It transformed her face and he couldn't stand to look at it. Made him uneasy. Didn't like what that did to him.

"Come on then," she said, waving him forward. He breathed deep, knowing he was gonna have to do whatever it took to make this work. He didn't want to admit it, but he liked it here.

Maybe not these people yet, but the view was nice.

He trailed after Carol slowly, hesitating when he saw her make a straight shot for the stables.

Where the damn horses were. He let a string of curses slip passed his lips but kept followin' her till he got to the wide open door where he stopped.

She kept walking into the stable, not bothering to check and see if he followed. And he didn't. He peeked through the doors and he watched as several large faces popped out from behind some stalls. They looked like cages. He didn't like the looks of those. But Carol reached up to greet each one, a smile on her face and her voice soft.

There was a tenderness that he'd not seen before.

"There's someone I want you to meet," she called over her shoulder, walking a little faster now, a lightness to her voice. He took a hesitant step forward, his skin startin' to itch. The stable was warm and dry, and smelled like hay and leather and the end of summer. And horses. He didn't think he'd ever know what horses smelled like but he could practically breathe it in. And if he were honest, it wasn't all that bad.

"I think you'll like him," she called out. But he still didn't follow her, and she still didn't bother to see if he was followin'.

Something about the smell made him feel at ease. It was dusty, and earthy, and hell, there was even the smell of shit beneath it all. But for some reason, it was comforting.

He took another step inside, letting the warmth settle over his shoulders. Carol reached the end and stopped, turning to face one of the stalls. But no horse came out and somethin' changed. He could see her body stiffen.

Her hand rested on the door, and she reached up on her toes to peer inside. Something was wrong, he could feel it. Didn't like the way she was starting to lose that happy little glow she'd gotten when he admitted he wanted work.

"Dale!" He jumped at the sound of her voice suddenly filling his ears. He didn't think she had it in her to project it that far but she did. Her lungs pushed her voice out, sending it farther then he imagined. And he could hear the panic in it, felt it in his stomach.

"Dale!" she screamed louder, and started running out the back door of the stable. He stood for a moment, unsure of what the hell he was supposed to do. Did he follow? Did he stand there like a fuckin' idiot?

"Help me!" His gut clenched, and that was it. He couldn't stand there, when clearly something was wrong. He jogged around the stable and found her staring out at the field, hands gripping the post. He made his way up to her, slowing down because he didn't know how to handle this.

Women weren't his thing, especially upset ones.

She must have heard him coming though because she whirled around so fast that he halted mid-step. She clutched at some rope in her hands, and her eyes were red. She hadn't started crying yet, but it was coming. Whatever this was, it was enough to push her to the edge.

"He's gone," she whimpered, her whole body beginning to shake. Daryl didn't know who he was but he'd take a good guess that she weren't talking about Ed. No one should a missed that asshole.

She took a step toward him, wringing the rope in her hands. "He's gone!" she cried out. He took a step back, her emotions overwhelming. She was looking for comfort and he didn't have any to give. Not something he could give. He didn't know how to do that. He'd been fuckin' that up his whole life.

They both turned to the sound of heavy breathing and feet. He watched as a man in his late 50s, maybe older, came jogging up to her, face red, concerned.

"Carol," he gasped out, holding out a hand to her. Carol lunged at him, and he couldn't believe it but she buried her face in his chest. He swallowed hard and looked away. There must have been more going on here than he thought.

"Carol, what happened?" the man asked. He took off his bucket hat, rubbed at his forehead and looked around, catching his eyes. They narrowed for a moment, and Daryl knew where this was going.

Ain't no way in hell he were gonna get caught between some lovers spat.

Carol shoved away from him and pointed to the stables, and Daryl noticed the tear tracks down her face.

"He's gone, Dale," she cried, holding up the rope in her hands. The gray-haired man, Dale, took the rope from her hands and studied it. And then his face lit up with grim realization.

"You don't mean-"

"Yes!" she screamed. Daryl flinched, and stepped back, now ready to escape.

"Sky is gone!" He watched as the tears slipped down her cheeks and she started to pace. "Ed flew out of the house this morning and I don't know where he's gone. He said he had to 'take care of the problem'," she said hastily, her words running together in her fear. "He had to of taken him," she cried, holding Dale's gaze, clutching at her stomach.

"He's gone, and now," she whimpered, turning around, already starting to walk away, "I'll never get him back." Daryl felt his heart twist at the way her words broke. Her shoulders caved in, and started to shake. He'd seen that defeated look, felt it more times than he cared to admit.

"Carol," Dale called, but she didn't answer. And she kept walking until she was standing in the middle of that field, looking up at the sky. She didn't scream, and he didn't see her start kicking or throwing herself around in a fit.

She just sat down in the middle of that field, and he was sure that she continued to cry, silently.

And for some reason it made his chest ache.

He still couldn't shake that feeling in his chest. Because he didn't know what else to do but watch her sit out there. And that made him feel like shit. All his life he felt like he was just watchin' people suffer. Hell, he suffered his whole life and all anybody ever did was watch. And now, he was gonna do the same thing?

Fuck. Did he go and say something? He didn't know how to handle women. He'd been the pussy in the family his whole life. Merle had been gettin' on his back since he turned fifteen to get some ass but he never wanted that. Never felt like he was worth it, never felt like they were worth it. Never wanted to be just like his ol' man and Merle.

He didn't want to fuck that up yet, so all that left was working. Did he start working? What the hell did he start working on? He only knew how to fix shit. Didn't know jack about horses. Too scared – too big for him to handle.

He turned around, eyeing the stables as the sounds of the horses filled the air.

"Fuck," he muttered. Dale had said something about the roof needing fixin'. Didn't like the idea of being on top of all those fuckin' horses but at least he weren't inside with them all.

He glanced over his shoulder one last time, makin' sure she hadn't moved. He couldn't do nothin' to help her, didn't know how. But he'd do somethin'.

"Got work to do," he mumbled to himself, and headed for the stable.

A/N: This moves so very slowly. But thank you for reading in spite of that!