Noxi: I really am so sorry it took so long for this chapter. July has been brutal to me personally and it was a little hard to put down in words where exactly I wanted Daryl and Carol to go. But I hope that what I did write will have been well worth the wait.

Thank you everyone for reviewing. I know I didn't get to respond to you guys, and I'm sorry for that. But every single review is appreciated, and loved. Special thanks to FaeriesMasquerade for being an amazing friend, as usual. I'd also like to thank littleshelly0619 for coming and prodding me on several occasions and letting me know that she was waiting for this, and to not give up, and for giving me just what I needed for Ed.

Note: All of my bible verses come from the English Standard Version – there are several in this chapter. Mostly they are highlighted (italics) when Carol uses them so you'll know where they are.

The Walking Dead belongs to Kirkman and AMC.

The Dark Night

It was the pounding of the hundred feet surrounding him that threatened to trample them, killing them both.

It was the feel of her fragile body that he clutched tightly to his, as she shook and sobbed in his arms as he held her back from the one thing that had never been right.

It was the feel of his own trembling, at the foreign feel of her in his arms, at the anger that boiled in his blood, and constricted his muscles as he warred with every sense to just let her go.

It was the darkness that pressed against them and the rain that poured over them, muffling her screams, hiding the horror before their eyes only to be shed to light as the lighting flashed in the distance.

It was all he could to pull them back into the dark of the night.

XXX

She lay in bed, for a long time, curled on her side looking out the window. It was cloudy, the sky gray with rain, the rumble in the distance crying out in thunder. The storm really was coming.

"Ed's on his way back."

She closed her eyes tight against the fear that gripped her, curling her fingers in the blanket. She felt like a child, hiding under the blankets from the terrors as if that would deter them. But it felt good to be wrapped up in the warmth of her quilt, and to hide from the oncoming day no matter how ridiculous it was.

She couldn't hide forever though. She had so many things to do today as much as she didn't want to do any of them. The horses were still outside, and though they had the stable run she didn't like leaving them to the elements. And if the weather turned decidedly wicked someone would need to stay outside with the cattle. The calves would need to be moved inside and the herd moved to the other pasture. And Daryl should know what that was like, during a thunderstorm, before they hit the winter ones.

But she curled into herself, under the blankets, and sighed. She could hear the downstairs shower turn on as Sophia got ready for school. She was late as it was and for once, she just wanted to lay there and do nothing. Spend a morning wrapped in herself and forget that her life was waiting for her.

It was the whinny of one of the horses, Molly if she knew it right, that had her rolling over and sitting on the edge of the bed. She rubbed at her face, and exhaled. She looked out the window as her shoulders sagged.

"Storm's coming."

Her hands curled into fists on her legs, and her eyes found the stand by her table. There was a picture of her and Sophia, smiling, sitting in the horse pasture. An old horseshoe that curled around the base of the picture frame, at odds with the entire setting, but one that had made its home there because it had belonged to Starling. And there sat the book.

She picked it up, its weight heavier than she had last remembered it.

Of course, it had been a long time since she had opened the book. That should have been a problem, would have been for her mother. She would have said something about it.

"You're a good wife, aren't you Carol?"

But after what Rick had told her yesterday, she needed to open it for herself. She needed that reassurance, needed to stifle her mother's voice that just kept echoing in her head ever since Rick had told her that Ed was coming back.

"Mother, I can't stay with him," she pleaded, hoping for once that she would just listen to her.

But her mother didn't turn from the stove, and seemed as if she hadn't heard her. She felt her chest constrict, tightening painfully with the sudden awareness that nothing would ever change. That no matter what she did, there would always be this.

"He hurts me mama," she whispered, stifling back the tears. She hadn't called her mama in years. All she wanted was to come home, to escape Ed, to find a place where she could be safe. Even if her parents' house wasn't any safer at least it wasn't where Ed was. At least he couldn't touch her here.

But her mother didn't even turn around. She kept stirring whatever was in the pot, which smelled like spaghetti sauce, her shoulders stiffening with each passing second.

"You go back there Carol Anne," she demanded quietly. And Carol flinched, curling inward. Her mother hadn't used that tone in a long time, not since she'd last come here. She'd been pregnant then, and she'd told her the same thing. Go back. He'll get better.

She would get used to it.

"You go back and be a good wife." Her mother did turn then, her eyes narrowed. She swallowed hard, wrapping her arms around herself. She remembered that look, and the intolerance behind it. Her mother was unforgiving.

"Whatever you've done to make him angry, you go back there and you make up for it." Her mother walked around the table, and Carol withdrew into herself.

She grabbed her by the shoulders, squeezing firmly. But it was her eyes – the unshakeable belief of what she was saying held so firmly in them. Carol had never understood why her mother had ever become the person she was.

But she was beginning to see it now.

"Under the law almost everything is purified with blood, and without the shedding of blood there is no forgiveness of sins." Carol bit her lip hard, knowing without that book in front of her that her mother was quoting the word of the Lord to her. Whatever her mother believed it had been ingrained into her. It could only be lessons upon lessons taught to her. And now, Carol was also expected to be the same way.

She was taught that God wanted her to be a good wife to her husband. Not matter what.

She bent forward over the book, curling it into her chest. But her mother twisted the word of God to her use, and had Carol believing for most of her life that this was what she was supposed to be living. She was supposed to be a good wife. She was supposed to endure through the pain, the blood, the sweat and the tears.

She was to give Ed exactly what he wanted, even if that meant it was her pain.

She sat up, glancing at the approaching clouds out her window, the rumble growing louder. Whatever God had wanted, surely it had never been this.

"But when I hoped for good, evil came, and when I waited for light, darkness came," she murmured, running her hand gently over the black cover biting back the emotion that threatened to consume her.

She had no love from Ed. She wondered if she had ever had any love from him. She had given him everything and all he had given her in return was pain, and lost hope, and suffering.

And Sophia. If there was anything that she would ever be grateful from his miserable, wasteful life it was her Sophia. But it still did nothing to stop her from hating what had happened to her.

"My inward parts are in turmoil and never still; days of affliction come to meet me." She still suffered endlessly, and there didn't seem to be any end.

She opened the book, letting the thin, wispy pages slide softly against her fingers. The bible had always held a certain smell to her, like an old manuscript that had never been found until now. It used to give her the impression that it was ancient and wise.

But now, she felt no comfort from it. If she was honest, she had never truly felt any comfort from it. It had been used as a model to force her relationship with Ed into something that was supposed to be hers to fix. She was supposed to make it right every time he did something wrong. Every time he hurt her, it was her fault.

She flipped through the pages softly, carefully, first through Genesis, and Chronicles. And then Job and Psalms where she stopped, her fingers hovering over chapter 6. She flipped the fragile pages until she found the right number, the pages worn and wrinkled and faded. There was no doubt that this page had been looked at many times.

She smoothed out the pages, her fingers running over the bump across the verses in eighteen. And then she started to read. More from memory, than from sight.

And the longer she read, the angrier she got. The Lord had never done anything for her. Not once had she been given hope, not once had she thought that Ed was going to ever change his ways, not once did she ever think he would stop.

Did she deserve this?

Did she deserve the pain of his fists on her face? Did she deserve to be made to feel like she wasn't worth the shit beneath his shoes? Did she deserve to work herself sick everyday all for the sake of someone who didn't love her?

God did not make the earth tremble for her. God did not make Ed suffer. Ed did not turn his back to flee from anything. She suffered, she feared him.

She turned the page, the spine resisting her, and she felt her throat close up.

She closed her eyes, and let her fingers slide over the smooth, cold metal like she'd done it a thousand times before. And then she opened her eyes and found her reflection staring back her. She looked older than she should have, and the dark circles under eyes weighed heavy on her skin. The bruise was clearing up, turning an ugly yellow-green. But it was the haunted look in her own eyes that sent a shudder through her.

She chewed her lip, pushing back the tears. The switchblade was small, old, rusted and she never let it fold closed all the way because it would never have fit, because of reasons. But none of that mattered. It was big enough to make her heart pound in her chest and her fingers shake. It was big enough to make her fear every day that the book sat on her nightstand next to the bed. It was big enough to make her wonder every night if it would do what she had never had the courage to actually do.

She snapped the book closed, hiding the one thing she had hated herself for, and that she had loved herself for.

"If I give away all I have, and if I deliver up my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing," she whispered, holding the book tightly to her chest. She stood up, standing in front of the window. She watched as Dale left the stable, heading for the cattle pasture, and felt her heart still at the sight of Daryl following.

Daryl was one more thing to explain to Ed when he got back. One more thing she would face his fists for, one more thing he would find a reason to take something from her for.

She curled her fingers around the book in her hands tightly, and watched him continue to walk away with Dale.

He was one more person she was ready to take the weight of that pain for.

XXX

He was nervous. Ain't never been nervous bout somethin' he couldn't control and he hated it. But hell if he weren't. Dale had come fer him this morning, and that set him on edge. It was later than they normally got started, and he was itching to get his body moving.

Didn't help that his body ached. His feet ached, his back ached, his fingers ached. But most of all, his shoulder ached something fierce. He rotated the cuff, wincing as the dull pain sent a different ache through him.

There was a storm comin'. Didn't need nobody to tell him that. When his shoulder ached, he could feel it. He reached up, massaging the sore tendon. It'd been that way ever since he was fifteen and his ol' man had dislocated the joint. He'd held him to the ground, Daryl couldn't remember what for, boot to his back and twisted his wrist behind him so hard that his shoulder jerked free.

His jaw clenched as his shoulder ached with the sudden memory, his screams still dying out on the back of his throat.

"Y'all right?" He shot Dale a warning glance, but didn't say nothing, the ache in his shoulder occupying him.

He'd not been able to stop the tears of pain either at the time and his ol' man had beaten him after for those too. Nobody had been around for that. Ma was dead, and Merle was gone doin' his own thing; jail, drugs or sex. He suspected all three.

He'd had to push his shoulder back into place once he found his strength, and he didn't know how long it was before that happened. He'd been on the ground for a long time unconscious before he actually woke up.

Thing hurt like a bitch. Felt like he was trying to do exactly what he didn't want. Ever since, weather ain't never been kind on his bones. None of them if he thought about it. His wrist hurt like hell, and he knew it weren't just from fixin' the roof. That'd been broken at some point too, same as his pinky finger.

He felt the rain hit his face in a cold, soft caress. He looked up as the sky rumbled in distant anger, blinking at the drops.

"Gotta get the calves in before the rain comes down harder," Dale murmured next to him. He remembered his Georgia storms, the way they'd come in quick and hot, like one of his ol' man's tempers. He'd be out hunting and the next thing he'd know his shoulder would send an ache so fierce through him, the crossbow shaking in his hand, and he'd lose the game he was eying.

And then it would pour.

He sighed. He was just glad he'd finished the roof. The light had started disappearing over the edge of the horizon when he'd put the last shingle on yesterday. He'd worked up a hell of a sweat too but he was satisfied with what he'd done. Least now she wouldn't have no rain comin' through the roof, and it would last longer than before.

He didn't have much, but he was good at what he did.

While he'd been up there, he'd watched her. She'd finally come out of that house, silent and troubled, and had taken to the pasture where the horses waited for her. She'd spoken to Dale, conversed with him for a long time when he approached her, but he tended to the cattle for the rest of the day after that.

And when she went to the pasture, she never left it. She brushed each of the them down, talked to them, buried her face against their necks. Walked the pasture, checked the entire fence line, checking each post. She watched the sun sink slowly behind the mountains. And then when she went to Outlaw, finally, she didn't even try to touch him. She just watched him for a moment before sitting down a few feet from him.

And she sat there for a long time. He figured maybe an hour, two, just watching Outlaw. It was a long time for someone to just be sittin' and starin' and not doin' nothing. And that horse, it just stared right back. Or he walked a few feet one way just to walk back the way he'd come from. It was like he was dancing around her, lookin' to walk away but not ready to step away from a challenge. Daryl understood that. He'd been raised to take challenges. He'd never walked away from one in his entire life neither, no matter how bad they'd gotten.

He didn't know what she was doin' just staring at the horse. But he didn't know nothing about horses either so he just kept watching them, intrigued. And he wouldn't never believe it if he hadn't a seen it, but that damn horse took a step toward her, his head lowering to the ground hesitantly.

He could remember stopping what he was doing to watch as Outlaw dug at the ground, shaking his head. It was like they were testing each other, seeing who would break first, who would do something to ruin the shaky trust that he could see she was slowly starting to build.

And he could see now that that was what she was trying to do – gain his trust, show him that she weren't bad like Peletier or the others before them. Show him that if he let her, he could be loved.

It was that realization that hit a nerve in him and he couldn't watch her any longer. He turned his back on her, and set about finishing the roof, pounding the nails in deeper and harder than he had before.

And as he slammed another nail through another shingle he couldn't stop from watching out of the corner of his eyes as Outlaw took another step toward her, hesitant, afraid, but still wanting to see if she could be trusted. Still holding onto that small inkling of hope that maybe this one wasn't like the rest.

But the moment she raised her hand, reaching it out to him, he was gone. He flicked his head back, snorted, and jogged away. He watched Carol's hand drop back into her lap, and he'd never seen so much patience on a woman 'fore.

Carol was different than any other woman he'd encountered before. He'd met some who'd give you a fuck for free, and there were the ones who acted like they wanted to be nice and get to know him but all they wanted was something for themselves. And the ones like his Ma, who acted like they were victims but never once did she try to get them from their ol' man. Not once did he ever remember her leavin'. It was always a choice. Between him and Merle. She never tried to love'em both equally. She never tried to fight back against their ol' man. She never tried.

She just rolled over, and let his ol' man beat Merle when she wanted to save him. Let the ol' man beat him when she was drunk and lazy. And that's what she did – got lazy.

"May have ta stay with the cattle tonight, if the storm gets bad enough," Dale said, knocking him from his memories. Daryl just nodded, swallowing back the sudden emotion that had welled up within him. He bit his lip hard, forcing himself to push back those memories. His Ma was gone, and his ol' man weren't here. He cleared his throat noisily.

"That mean ya gonna need me?" Dale turned back to look at him, a small smile playing at his lips, like he was glad that Daryl had offered and Dale didn't need to tell him to.

"I just might," he remarked, and waved him on, moving briskly for the herd.

It was a moment before Daryl followed, and he almost glanced over his shoulder. But he stopped himself before he fully turned to look, and closed his eyes, turning his face to the sky instead.

He didn't know what to make of Carol. She protected her daughter, and she protected the animals here on this place. But she didn't protect herself. She let that asshole do whatever he wanted to her.

Was that any different than what he'd left behind? Was her life any different than the ones he was trying to escape from?

Thunder rumbled in the distance again, and he opened his eyes, blinking rapidly against the drizzle.

"Brothers are fightin' baby."

He grunted, letting the whisper slip passed him and opened his eyes up to the sky above him, blinking against the rain.

"Just thunder," he murmured to himself.

"What was that?" Dale asked.

"Nothin'," he barked back, harsher than he'd meant. Dale just shrugged his shoulders and opened the gate to the herd, the cattle lowing around them, huddling in close to each other. He could see some of the calves hiding under the legs of the older ones, waiting out the storm patiently.

"Gotta get the calves under the shed first, before the others crowd'em," Dale shouted above the wind that whipped across his face.

Daryl nodded, watching the black clouds shift over the mountain.

XXX

Carol ran off the front porch, into the harsh rain that had started that morning soft and continued all day, letting the fat, cold droplets hit her face and mix with her tears. She knew what was rain and not – one was warm and the other cold. She hadn't meant to do this. To reduce herself to tears and weakness. She had ended yesterday resolved – she would face Ed when he came home. And this morning, when she had opened her eyes to a gray, cloudy sky, she had still felt the same. She had gotten out of bed, had taken Sophia to school, had told Lori everything was okay, because dammit it was.

And then she'd come home.

Come home and seen the stables empty. Seen the pasture where the horses grazed. Seen what they had never been able to escape from, seen what she had never been able to escape from and it had started to eat at her all day. She'd gone about her work, but it still didn't matter what she did to try and forget it. Even Sophia had noticed her mood when she had picked her back up from school.

And now it had come to this.

She had watched Outlaw stare at those mountains long enough, in the rain for that matter. She watched his yearning for too long.

If there was something that could be done about it, then she had to do something.

She fumbled with the latch, hating the way the tears streamed down her cheeks, hating that the lock caught in her shaking fingers, slipping in the water, hating this. She flung the gate open, all of the rage and the hate and the sadness and the pain consuming her and she pushed until it stood wide, her shoulders aching.

She saw Dale approach her slowly from her right, his steps wary. She could see the pity in his eyes, and his silence was overbearing.

She should have stopped right then and there. She should have taken a deep breath, and thought about what she was doing. But all sense of thought was gone, and she didn't want to feel the ache in her chest or the overwhelming fear that continued to chase her.

And the moment Outlaw's eyes met hers she couldn't stop. This was what she had come out here for. This is what had been nagging at her ever since she had seen Tiger Lily, ever since Sky Dancer had been taken from her, ever since Ed had proven his point.

Ever since Daryl had spoken those words.

"Why don't ya just let'im go?"

She was done being that person. Done holding them against their will. She was done being just like Ed.

She stormed through the pasture, hating the way Outlaw grew agitated at her approach – tossing his head back, panicking, nostrils flaring, and eyes widening. She hated herself for showing him exactly what she'd never wanted – that everyone was the same.

That love would never find him.

That he was a prisoner against his own will. She would not hold him here when she could grant him that freedom.

"GO!" she screamed, her heart breaking at the way Outlaw jerked, side-stepping toward the open gate.

"Leave!" she yelled, lunging at him. He snorted heavily, prancing away from her, tail flicking nervously.

She should have never have kept him, should have never have let Ed keep him. She let Ed abuse him, use him, and defile a creature that deserved none of it. Outlaw didn't ask for this life. He didn't ask to be kept confined to a space too small. He didn't ask to be beaten, didn't ask to be used against his will.

He wanted freedom, and love, and the open skies.

And who was she to defy him that when there was no here to stop her?

She fell to her knees, as the image of Ed consumed her, the tears running hot down her cheeks, the rain soaking her clothes, a chill traveling up her spine.

"Have your freedom," she sobbed, watching as he edged away from her toward the gate. It was closer to his freedom, further away from all of this evil. She glanced at the open gate, standing wide open.

There was no one here to stop her either. Would the world collapse on itself if she left for a better place? Would God strike her down for abandoning a man who had done nothing for her and everything to hurt her? Would it be so bad if she left to find happiness, for once, for herself?

A sob wrenched its way passed her throat and she buried her face in her hands, falling to the ground, the scent of the earth filling her nose as the grass tickled her cheeks.

She couldn't leave. She couldn't leave the house that she had built a life in, no matter how twisted and horrible the shadows had become. She couldn't leave behind Nettle, and Bluebird, and Molly, and the cats, and the hundred cattle that served as her livelihood.

She couldn't leave the only home that Sophia had known.

She just couldn't do it.

"I hate you," she screamed, the grass tickling her lips and the dirt now a taste in her mouth. Her fingers curled in the ground, tearing up the grass, nails digging a trail through the dirt.

She couldn't breathe. Her thighs pressed against her chest, suffocating her slightly, and she panted for air. But she refused to sit up, refused to allow herself that small mercy. She buried her hands in her hair, curling her fingers against her scalp, nails digging into her skin. The pain was sharp and sweet, cutting just the flesh, sending goose bumps down her neck.

She hated herself for not being strong enough to leave. She hated Ed for not loving her and treating her right. She hated herself for not leaving when she had the chance. She hated herself for staying, for allowing Ed to have her.

The pain of all the years she had lost at his hands consumed her, robbing her of the air she tried to breathe.

It was the sadness that crippled her, that she would never escape this life because she was too weak. Because she couldn't abandon the people, the animals that depended on her. Because in the end, this was the only world she had ever known and she didn't know how to live any other. Because in the end she needed them.

It was the unavoidable truth that one day she would die at his hands and the horrific joy that that brought her set her heart pounding in her chest. It was the pure, sweet taste of a future that left her salivating for more. That she would finally be free of him. That death would set her free.

And then, a warm, wet nose was nudging her arm, burying itself against her. She looked up, into the rain. Outlaw stood above her, head bent toward her. Her heart stopped for a moment at the sight of him, his eyes seeking her out. She reached up with a tentative hand, breath caught in her throat, watching his eyes, waiting for that moment when he would run from her. And she let her fingers trail up his cheek.

She choked on her tears, as a sob slipped passed her. He didn't run.

He didn't run.

He blinked, letting out a sigh and she laid her forehead against his, burying her fingers in his neck, letting his warm breath rush over her face.

He was staying.

He would stay with her.

XXX

He stood at the edge of the shed, the cattle shifting around him, and he couldn't stop watching. He couldn't stop watching as she broke down in that field, the rain pouring down on her. He couldn't stop watching, even as his feet itched to run. He couldn't stop watching as that horse was given the opportunity to find its own freedom, and instead, it chose to stay.

His chest clenched, and he didn't like the feeling.

"Mama's got that way." He jumped, his heart pounding in his chest and he turned to find the little girl standing a few feet from him.

Her hands gripped the post, her knuckles goin' white.

"Woof." He took a step back, glanced down, surprised to find a dog standing at her feet, staring at him intently. He shoulda known. Damn ranch had everything else here, why wouldn't there be a dog.

She reached down, rubbing at the dog's head, pulling him in for a hug. The dog musta been used to it because he sat down and took it like it was a common thing she did. Dog even rested his head on her shoulder, like he was giving her one back.

"What way?" he asked, swallowing back his initial reaction, stuffing his hands into his pockets. The rain sprinkled against his face as the wind whipped it under the shed roof and he couldn't stop from watching the girl's face, watching as she stared at her mom.

She never let go of that dog, gripping him tighter in fact.

"The way to love," she whispered, her eyes never leaving her mom.

Daryl didn't know what to say, because he didn't want to admit that he was starting to believe she had something. He'd watched her perform some kind a damn miracle with that horse. She'd gotten him to come to her, when he thought Outlaw would never let no one touch him again. When he would a sworn to any god that Outlaw would a chosen freedom.

"Sophia?" She turned, Dale standing a few feet behind them. He gestured her over.

"Why don't you take Lincoln on over to my place. He can stay there for the night." She smiled then, a thing that lit up her face in places he didn't know were possible.

"Okay," she said, standing up. Daryl watched her walk away for a moment, the dog at her heels. He turned away, in time to see Carol gently lead Outlaw out of the pasture, out of the rain and toward the stable.

"Mr. Daryl?" He sputtered, and turned on his heel.

"Daryl," he grunted, finding her green eyes. "Jus' Daryl kid." Her eyes bore into him, and he didn't like the feeling that rose in his chest. That look was a little too much like her Ma's.

"Don't call me that, okay?" she murmured, eyes glancing down. "It's Sophia." There was a moment of awkward silence where he didn't know what to say. Kids made him nervous and this one wasn't any better. There was a familiarity to her that he didn't like.

So he just nodded, and turned away.

"Are you gonna stay too?" she asked, her voice barely reaching him. He swallowed hard against the lump in his throat, wondering why she'd come out there by him anyway.

He watched as Carol stood with the door to the stable wide open, and Outlaw stood in the rain, watching her back.

And for a moment, he wondered if the horse would take his freedom then. There was nothing to stop him, nothing holding him back from taking off and leaving her there. And Carol waited, like she knew it too. Like this was the moment she knew would be his final choice.

And then that horse walked through the door.

His shoulder ached, and he shifted his arm to relieve the muscle. "Ain't got nowhere better to be," he grunted, leaning against the fence, crossing his arms. He glanced over his shoulder in time to see her turn away, and the small smile on her face.

He didn't know what the hell she was smiling about.

XXX

She was ashamed to think back on this afternoon. She had never meant to break down, again. But she couldn't stop the flurry of emotions that wound through her. It was the constant battle of when he would get back, and what he would do when he did. And it wasn't just the fact that he was coming back tonight. It was the constant flash of what a storm meant to her on any other day that Ed was home.

It plagued her. It sent her in a panic. It had her short of breath. It had her doubling over, clutching at her stomach, and trying to find the air to breath.

How many times had Ed used the cover of the storm to have his way with her? How many times had he tried to muffle her cries when he hurt her during these storms?

People thought she was afraid of the thunder because of some childish reason. But they didn't know.

They didn't know what he did.

She pulled the bible close to her chest, and paced. She didn't think she would be able to sleep tonight. No matter how tired she was, her mind would not rest. Just the thought of him coming back kept her nerves buzzing. The memories that bombarded her kept her from sitting still.

She stopped a moment, to stare at the stables, and felt a moment of happiness slip through her. There was a bright spot in all of this. Despite all that had happened, Outlaw had stayed.

He had chosen to stay, had seen something in her that he was willing to stay for. She only hoped that nothing would come from what she had done for him.

"The Lord is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer, my God, my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield, and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold." She stood at the window pulling the book to her chest, cradling the one thing she had kept within reach for so many years. The one thing that had saved her on so many nights when she had thought she would not last the night.

She looked out at the darkness that swallowed up everything.

When did she stop giving everything to Ed, and when did she start doing something for herself? When did it stop? She put her hand against the glass, as lighting streaked across the sky, lighting up the land.

"I call upon the Lord, who is worthy to be praised, and I am saved from my enemies," she whispered, the glass fogging.

When did she start saving herself?

XXX

Dale had told him to get some sleep before he came on watch with the cattle. But he couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned in bed and knew that sleep wouldn't come. All he could think about was Peletier showing up at any moment. What would he do? What would he say?

What would Carol do?

So he'd gotten up and sat in that chair, and smoked. He pulled another cigarette out, grumbling when he noticed the pack dwindling. This was his fourth that hour. He didn't usually chain smoke but hell if his nerves weren't gettin' to him.

The cherry glow lit up his face, and he took a drag, inhaling deep. He glanced down at the tan and brown cat, curled up at his feet once again, as the thunder continued to rumble in the distance. Storm just wasn't giving up on today. He reached down, letting his fingers trail gently over the cat's head, its soft fur tickling his skin.

"That's Vangeline." He jumped.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he barked, flinching as he tipped in the chair and dropped the cigarette from his fingers, watching as the cat streaked back into the dark. His heart was pounding in his chest.

He didn't even hear her come up next to him she'd been so damn quiet. He watched her intently, her green eyes looking him over. He wished that he was the damn cat right then, running for cover.

He shifted nervously, running a hand through his hair. The way she was lookin' at him he could a sworn she was out here for something that he didn't have.

"You shouldn't say stuff like that," she murmured softly, sitting on the steps near his feet, pulling her knees up to her chest. He swallowed hard against the lump in his throat and shifted in his seat. Kids made him fuckin' nervous. He'd been good with'em once, but not since…

He cleared his throat, pushing those emotions back. He'd just tell her to go back to bed. Wasn't like she should be out here with him anyway, in the dark, with the storm getting heavier by the minute.

She sighed, resting her chin across her knees, turning to look at him.

"Ya should, ah, go on back to bed," he muttered, reaching down to pick his cigarette back up. She watched him closely, silent, the only movement her breathing.

He took a deep drag on his cigarette, waiting for her to say something, anything. He could see her sizing him up, judging him. She'd come out here for something, but for what? He didn't have nothing for her. What impression did he give her that she thought she could come out here and sit with him?

"Can't sleep," she whispered hoarsely, and he knew right then that she'd been crying. Could hear it in her voice. Damn but he didn't know how to handle that shit. Girls and crying? He was fucked.

He swallowed hard, and thought about what he could say, but came up with shit. Merle had never given him advice on girls for this stuff. He inhaled again, let the ash burn his lungs. It was safer to stay quiet, safer to avoid looking at her.

"Mama she…she isn't sleeping." He had wondered what was going on up in there. Carol's light had been on since he'd tried to sleep. He wondered what kept her awake. "She starts breathing badly." He looked back at the girl, brows furrowed. Sounded like a panic attack. But Sophia wasn't watching him anymore. She was looking at the sky, eyes closed to the rain. "Or she prays," she whispered.

Silence came over her, and he was glad for it. He didn't want to know what was going on in that house. He had enough to worry about with his own damn anxiety. Shit he didn't need.

Thunder rumbled again as the rain pounded against the roof, louder, closer and Sophia curled her legs tighter against her chest.

"We don't sleep when it storms," she murmured. He didn't know what the hell that meant, and something told him he didn't want to know either.

"Mama ain't allowed to sleep," she said heavily, swallowing, "I can't sleep cos a…" She buried her face in her knees, and he about ran for cover. That was shit he did not need to know. There were enough empty spaces in that sentence for him to be able to fill on his own and that was something he'd not prepared himself for, had never wanted to prepare himself for.

"Look, my uh," he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, pulling from a memory he'd thought he never have to again, "my Ma used to tell this story about thunder."

It was something his Ma had been raised in, that Indian shit. And he weren't dumb enough ta believe it either. But that didn't mean it weren't something. Didn't mean his Ma hadn't believed it. He never bothered to ask. She always thought that if she brought up the story it got him an' Merle to make up. Sometimes, he liked to let her believe that.

He watched as Sophia's head picked up, slowly. He took that as a sign to keep going. Anything to avoid further conversation down the road she was takin'.

"She used to uh, used to say that thunder was these brothers." He bit at his thumb, the memory coming back to him sharp, and clear.

"Listen baby," she said, turning about, her ratty blue dress flipping up against her thin, white legs. She grabbed his hand, her Virginia Slim slipping from her fingers, and as much as he wanted to pull away, he felt another pull. One that urged him to hold on.

He watched as Sophia's head angled just toward him. "When the thunder's low like that," he said, just as it rumbled above their heads, "it means these brothers are talking."

Sophia turned her head so she could look at him, and he could see she was interested.

"What are they talking about?" she whispered back. He shrugged his shoulders, leaning back in the chair and inhaling again, his cigarette getting smaller. Her eyes lowered.

He remembered he'd asked his Ma the same thing once.

"What do all brothers talk about?" she responded.

He thought that was stupid. He didn't know what all brothers talked about. Hell, sometimes he and Merle never talked. Sometimes all Merle wanted to talk about was pussy. Sometimes Merle only talked about drugs. Sometimes Merle only talked about…

A crack resounded over their heads, and a flash followed. He watched as Sophia jumped in her seat, and he didn't miss the small shriek that left her lips.

"Sometimes, the brother's start fighting," he explained, her eyes frantically seeking out something, anything to calm her. She stood up, wrapping her arms around herself, and he was reminded of Carol. "Sometimes, they do it cos that's all they know." Her green eyes bore into his, and he felt like she was stripping him away. Knocking down the walls.

Discerning the truth from the lies.

"You should go inside," he said, clearing his throat. But she just shook her head, and left the safety of the steps, the heavy rain soaking her.

"I'm gonna go see Bluebird." He watched her go, the smallest feeling tugging at his chest. Something told him she shouldn't be out there tonight. He couldn't place what, but tonight just wasn't the night for it.

"Ain't good to be out in a storm like this." And she stopped, the rain pelting against her small, fragile body, and she turned to look at him. It was the look in her eyes that set his shoulders curling in, had him burying himself deeper into his chair.

Why did he know that look?

"You gonna tell me what to do, just like my daddy?" She asked him softly, without any hate, or anger or the accusation he'd been waiting for. And when he didn't respond, she turned back around and kept walking, arms wrapped tight around her shoulders.

He wasn't gonna say nothing. Cos he weren't her daddy, and he weren't gonna tell her what to do. And he finally knew what that look was, why it had felt so familiar. And he knew why it had hurt so bad to see it.

Thunder cracked over their head, and the rain started to pour down on them. "Brothers are fightin' baby," she whispered, her lopsided smile stretching across her face as she fell to her back in the grass, pulling him down with her. He lay there beside her, wondering when he'd stop following her around, when he'd stop hoping she'd actually start acting like the Ma he wanted.

"Just a summer storm Ma," he barked, feeling angry for no reason at all.

But he watched her head turn toward him, slow and agonizing, and when he saw her face he wanted to curl away from her. It looked as if she had lost the life in her eyes.

"You gonna talk to me jus' like yer daddy?" She pulled her hand away, her fingers slipping between his as the rain hit her face, eyes never blinking.

"I-Ma I-" he swallowed hard, the words stuck in his throat, unable to say anything. His Ma had never done anything like this before. Had never looked at him like she had nothing left in her.

She curled on her side, back to him, and for a moment, the storm softened.

"Leave me," she said faintly, and for a fraction of an instant, he thought he heard her voice crack. He reached out, his fingers grazing across her shoulder, her skin cold against his touch.

"Leave me!" she screamed, turning to slap his hand away. He felt the sharp sting of her hand deeper than he'd wanted too.

He rose to his feet, the rain coming down hard now, assaulting his neck, and Ma didn't move. He knew that look in her eyes now, knew when he'd seen it.

It was when she'd looked at his ol' man. She'd looked at him the same way she'd looked at his ol' man.

He turned, and he ran, leaving her behind.

His Ma, she was gone not long after that. Dead. But he never forgot the way his Ma's eyes had looked. Never forgot the way her voice had echoed, empty in the space between them. He'd hated his Ma for doing that to him. For making him feel like he'd done something wrong when she should a been looking out for him. He was just a kid. He didn't know nothing then. But for as much as he hated her, he'd loved her. She'd never done right by him an' Merle and he never forgot that. But sometimes, he didn't wonder if she didn't know how to do anything but what she did.

He made sure Sophia made it into the stables before turning back to watch the light in Carol's room go out.

XXX

She was lying in bed, the quilt tangled at her feet, and the bible pressed to her chest when she heard the engine outside. It was deafened against the roaring of the storm that hadn't stopped all day, and had only increased in its anger into the night.

But she knew the sound of that engine, knew it like she knew every tick of his cheek muscle when he was angry. Knew it like she could sense the heavy silence before he hit her. Knew it like the feel of his hands on her body, unwanted and that left her trembling in self-hatred all night. Most nights she felt as if she were going to be sick.

Just like now.

She jumped from the bed, her socked feet hitting the ground as she ran.

"Sophia!"

She ran down the stairs, stopping in the hallway, hands braced against the doorway as she waited for her daughter's voice to come to her. And when it did not her knees began to shake.

"Sophia!" She ran to Sophia's room, hoping against her prays that her daughter was there and had simply not heard her. But when she found Sophia's room empty, she felt the breath catch in her lungs, choking her.

The pit in her stomach grew, swallowing her whole. She stumbled as she pitched forward, everything around her turning dark as she could only focus on the front door. If Sophia wasn't inside, then she was out there, closer to Ed, further away from her, far enough away from her than she could get too.

She slammed the front door open, and barreled down the steps and into the downpour of rain. The rain whipped against her bare legs, soaking through her over-sized shirt as she searched for the one thing she had been dreading all night, hoping Sophia was nowhere near here.

She looked around as the wind whipped up her shirt, the cold rain hitting her bare legs, her socks soaked through.

"Sophia!" But her voice disappeared in the wind.

She could see the truck, sitting idle by the cattle shed. He should have parked it by now, and had been on his way inside. She didn't know what had stalled him.

And then she watched in horror, as Ed's truck backed up, the lights flaring bright in the darkness and the storm, and he drove straight into the cattle shed.

She didn't even know she was screaming until her voice trickled off and her throat was raw.

And then she was running, slipping, and tripping in the mud as the rain slammed into her face, blurring her vision, chilling her to the bone. She could hear Dale shouting through the thunder. And then a crack of the lighting lit up the sky, illuminating Daryl, his body crouched low to the ground mere inches from the truck.

"Ed!" She screamed but she knew her voice didn't carry far. Because she watched as his heavy body slipped from the truck, and not once did he glance in her direction. He stared at Daryl with that look on his face that she had learned to fear her whole life. He was out to kill.

He stumbled toward Daryl and she ran, without any regard for her safety.

And then another crack of thunder split the sky and the cattle, already spooked from Ed running through the shed, jolted into action.

They ran.

"Ed!" She screamed again, and this time, he turned. His eyes focused on her, his head cocked to the side, and she watched as his lips moved once, forming a single word.

Dead.

She felt the recoil hit her hard as her entire body jolted with entirety of what that one word could mean.

"Carol! Run!" She turned, finding Dale motioning frantically at her, waving with his arms for her to run.

But she couldn't move, couldn't make her legs start moving even as the cattle came charging in her direction. She could only watch in mute horror as Ed, unaware of what was coming, staring at her with a fierce hatred, was knocked flat to the ground by a cow behind him. And then the rest of the herd followed like a raging stampede, full of fear and knowing only one direction to go; out.

"Carol!" She didn't know what she was doing, not until she felt the arms around her, restricting her, holding onto her.

It wasn't until she felt the body against her back, warm against the cold, harsh rain that she knew what was happening.

It wasn't until she really opened her ears that she knew it was her who was screaming.

Screaming for him.

A/N: I've heard that several of my fellow Caryl authors are being trolled, and I'd just like to tell them – Don't you ever give up on your writing. Don't let the Ed's tear you down.

Caryl on my kittens.