Noxi: So there's a mix of different things going on in this chapter, which I hope you all like. Thanks for coming back even though I take forever with these updates! I didn't get to respond to reviews *cries* I am so sorry! But thank you so much for each and every one of them. They mean so much to me. Seriously each time you all leave one I die a little more inside of happiness. Y'all are wonderful as usual!

The Walking Dead belongs to Kirkman and AMC.

White Lightning

"If he doesn't answer my questions, I'm going to have to detain him." Rick watched as Carol stared through the window, diligently, protectively. She'd been there for most of the day, seeing as Daryl wouldn't let her inside the room.

She didn't seem to mind though, which was probably a good thing. He didn't know how long she'd been standing out there, but he had to think it was a while.

"You can't do anything to him Rick," she murmured desperately, watching as Daryl pulled at the sheet around his legs, adjusted the gown for the fifth time, and let loose a string of curses that made him shift nervously.

Daryl was even more uncooperative in the hospital, injured, than before when he was at the farm.

"He's injured," she stressed, still watching him.

He didn't want to have to do anything to Daryl. In fact, he wanted to give the man a firm handshake and walk away from this all. He'd never liked Ed one damn bit, and as much as he never wanted to wish ill will on anyone, he was glad that he didn't have to worry about Carol being around him anymore.

And something told him that she was relieved about that as well. But…

Rick sighed, rubbing at his jaw.

"Ed's dead Carol," he said exhausted, turning to watch Daryl, "and his death looks suspicious. I have to investigate that." Carol looked up at him, pleadingly.

"No," she demanded desperately, "you don't. I don't need you too. He was my husband. That's my decision to make," she pleaded.

Rick shook his head wearily. As much as he wanted to do as Carol asked, he just couldn't. Too many things had happened. Too many people were asking questions. Too many people wanted answers.

"With the return of Sky Dancer, things change. Daryl's move to Woodbury is a little too convenient with everything that's happened." He watched as Carol's face twisted in anger and he never wanted to be on the receiving end of that. A woman's anger was never a joking matter. Particularly a woman who had lived like Carol had, and had now received freedom.

"Carol," he said, sighing heavily, watching as Daryl ripped the IV from his arm determinedly. "He was there when Ed was trampled. He was a part of the confrontation. I need to get to the bottom of it, whatever it is." The monitor started beeping angrily and Daryl slapped it hard, stopping it. Rick shook his head.

Carol gripped his arm tight, squeezing for all that she had.

"He's been through too much already Rick," she argued. "He was forced into that bed. I didn't know it would happen like that, but if you force him to do one more thing I don't know if he'll be able to take it." Rick sighed, remembering the scene he had witnessed earlier. Daryl had started putting up a fight about getting a mild sedative, having an IV drip and being admitted to the hospital. He had never thought a man would react so violently to getting medical help.

"Carol, it was necessary." She shook her head hard.

"No. It wasn't. They sedated him without his consent. He doesn't know anything that's happened since. He's been in this hospital a day and he doesn't even know it. Do you know what that could do to a person?" Rick was beginning to see why Carol had stayed all day with Daryl.

He was beginning to realize that Carol herself did not like hospitals.

"You can't force him to do something else. You can't," she begged.

"Carol I have to open an investigation," he said wearily, sensing she was going to keep fighting and not knowing how to respond.

"Then talk to Dale," she said vehemently, "he was there too." Rick sighed again, taking his hat off and running a hand through his hair. Dale was already on his list, but Daryl came first. Something he wasn't sure he should tell Carol.

"He's a suspect in a possible murder investigation Carol. I have to ask him questions regardless." Carol swallowed, her eyes hardening.

"He saved her Rick," she whispered, as she turned to look back at him. Their eyes connected for a moment and then Daryl turned away, his face flushing in embarrassment. He shifted on the bed, pulling the gown up over his shoulders and turning away from her.

"He brought Sophia back to me, brought Sky back to me," she said, her voice catching. The last thing Rick wanted to do was put Carol through anything more. But he had to do his job.

"Exactly," he said, putting his hat back on and turning away.

People had questions. They were starting to point fingers. No matter who Ed may have been, this town was just like any other, and when tragedy struck it stayed close to home.

And Daryl, well he hadn't become a part of that yet.

He glanced over his shoulder, watching as Carol kept watch over Daryl, the worry clear on her face. He smiled a little. At least, not to everyone else.

"Don't do this Rick," she called, an edge of steel in her voice. He paused, not turning back, knowing that no matter what his friendship with Carol was he had to do his job. People demanded that of him.

"Sorry Carol," he muttered, and walked away, hoping that he wouldn't find anything.

And for once, didn't care if he did.

xXx

"Hershel, are you sure that's a good idea right now?" She paced in the kitchen, twisting the phone cord around her fingers, half-listening to Carl and Sophia on the porch. Carol had wanted to spend the day at the hospital and had asked her if she could watch the farm for her. She agreed, knowing that her friend needed this.

She didn't know how she was handling being in the hospital again, but she was proud of her for being so brave.

Hershel said something, and she still wasn't sure it was a good idea.

"Well, you know what it's like better than I do. If you're sure it's going to be good for her, I guess I can't argue. Anything to keep her spirit's up." Hershel agreed, talking about a time and when it was best he come.

"She's at the hospital with Daryl right now, so I don't know if you wanted to wait for her." He said something further, and Lori nodded into the phone, looking out the window this time as she focused better on the conversation on the phone instead.

Carl and Sophia sat shoulder to shoulder, as Carl talked softly. Sophia didn't say anything as she listened and Lori wondered what her son was saying to her. She knew they were close, close enough for her to wonder about the future, but this was different. Sophia had suffered a loss, and Carl had never experienced anything like that and they had never talked to him about it either.

"Yes, I'm sorry. I think in a few days would be better. It's been rather…difficult with the situation with Daryl," she confessed. Rick had been forced to open an investigation on Daryl on the charges of a possible murder. She found it to be speculative and a farce. Someone clearly wanted Daryl questioned and put through the wringer. But the question was who?

And it put a strain on Carol. A strain on her and Carol, Rick and Carol. It was hard enough already, and now this?

She'd already formed a different kind of bond with Daryl, and now that he'd saved Sophia and brought Sky Dancer home? It was final. She wasn't going to let Daryl go through this alone, Lori could see that.

But as much as she was grateful to Daryl for all that he had done, she didn't want her friend to suffer that either. Carol had been through enough already. And she didn't need Daryl Dixon to drag her down any further.

"Tell me Hershel," she said, suddenly curious, "I thought you'd let her go by now?" Hershel chuckled on the other end, and Lori heard the mischievous tone in his voice and knew that whatever had happened before hadn't convinced Hershel to give up then.

"I just hope it's what she wants," Lori murmured, watching as Carl wrapped an arm around Sophia as she rested her head on Carl's shoulder.

xXx

Daryl wouldn't let her into the room so she was forced to watch him from outside. She didn't mind so much, but it had been a long day, a long week, and with Rick's news she was irritated. So when Jenner came down the hall, she had no patience left for him.

"Carol," he greeted her, clipboard in hand. She nodded, but didn't say anything. She wanted whatever news he had, and she wanted it straight.

He hesitated and she knew this wasn't going to be in her favor.

"Just tell me Dr. Jenner. I don't have the patience left to deal with anymore curveballs," she admitted, rubbing at her face tiredly.

Jenner looked at her apologetically, his hands folded across his front. "I'm sorry Carol," he said, "but I can no longer discuss Mr. Dixon's health with you. Seeing as he's not under your health insurance, and there's an…investigation about I can't allow you to be involved any longer."

Carol felt her heart drop into her stomach. Daryl didn't have anyone. She realized he wouldn't want her to take responsibility for him, but he didn't. She was all he had and she wasn't going to abandon him now, not after all that he had done.

"Doctor," she said softly, stepping forward to touch his arm, "Edwin," she murmured. His eyes softened and he looked conflicted.

"He has no one. He has nothing." Jenner looked in on Daryl, his mouth pursed tightly. "I know he's not my family, and I know it's not legally right for me to be involved. But I also know that he has no insurance, no family." She squeezed his arm gently, pulling his attention back to her.

She had to do this. For him.

"Please," she begged, thinking of what he had gone through to bring Sophia back to her. He claimed to not have been wounded bringing Sophia back to her, but it didn't matter. He worked for her. He had become a part of her family. And that meant she would take care of him, no matter what.

"I know that there's something we can do about this. He works for me. How many cases have you taken care of for me, under my name and insurance because it was work-related?" Jenner took a step back, like he'd been cornered suddenly.

She didn't like using that against him, but she knew it had been done before. All of her farm-hands had no insurance, and that fell to them to cover it. She and Daryl hadn't come to any kind of agreement yet, but that didn't change this.

"He's mine to take care of Edwin," she demanded, knowing this was her chance, before Daryl didn't get what he needed. "You've taken care of Lisa, and Ben, and Howard and Henry. All of them before now. None of them had insurance, and they were all under Ed and mine's responsibility." She turned to look at Daryl, at the dark circles under his eyes, and the haggard look in his face. She could still see the rib pushing against his skin when she had demanded to see it after Sophia had told her about it.

It had nearly broken her. And that was why this had to happen. She would do whatever she had too to help him now.

"Just because you know he was injured off-sight doesn't mean everyone else has too," she murmured softly.

Jenner stared in after Daryl, the conflict showing on his face as he warred with himself. She knew she could get him to cave in. It was just a matter of whether he believed Daryl had killed Ed or not.

"He saved my little girl," she said, her voice trembling as she held back the tears. Jenner turned back to her, and he swallowed back whatever response he had been about to give. "He brought Sophia back to me. He didn't even know she was out there; he'd fractured a rib and nearly killed himself wandering around out there. And yet, he still had the strength, the courage to bring my baby back to me." She wrapped her arms around herself, holding onto whatever strength she had left.

"Daryl Dixon doesn't owe me anything and yet…" and yet, even now, as she watched him struggle with the IV's hooked into his arms, and see the anxiety in his eyes as he couldn't stop looking around at everything, she couldn't help but feel something.

This man, who hadn't given her any reason before now to trust him, who had given her every reason to believe he was just another man with a bad past had given her back everything.

And now, it was her turn to do something for him.

"He deserves the chance at a life," she said fiercely.

xXx

He hated hospitals. The white-washed walls, the smell of disinfectant and the lingering feeling of death everywhere. He hated them. He glanced up at the IV bag that hung above him. He'd already ripped the IV from his arm, and he wasn't about to let them put another one in. He didn't know what was in those bags but it wasn't going into his body. He didn't do drugs, not the good kind or the bad. He'd seen enough of that trouble back home, had almost fallen prey to that himself to know that he couldn't get near it.

And no one could convince him otherwise, pain or no.

If he'd a had his way, he would a never came to begin with. But Carol had been right. His rib was either fractured or broken and there weren't nothin' he could do about that.

Well…he could a done wrapped that up himself and let it heal on its own. He'd done it 'fore. But he wasn't bout to tell her that. Not when she was insistent on him comin' here, blamin' herself, blamin' Ed, thankin' him all the same for bringing Sophia and Sky Dancer back. He just didn't understand women.

He didn't understand himself either anymore.

One minute he was driving away from it all, looking for a place to disappear, for someplace to just hide. One minute he had to escape what he used to be. One minute all he wanted was to just vanish.

And the next he's helping some woman on her farm, and bringing her little girl back to her from out of the woods, and saving a damn horse, and gotten himself tangled up in some damn soap opera.

He shook his head. He didn't know how in the hell he'd gotten himself into this, and he wasn't sure he liked it.

He didn't know how he'd gotten into this damn gown either, and that freaked him out. But he was ready to get out of it and go back. They'd patched him up, done something to his side. He'd spent more than enough time in this place and he was ready to go.

"Mr. Dixon?" He glanced up as the doctor came in, and Carol followed. He shifted the gown around his shoulders again, and kept his eyes on the foot of his bed. He couldn't believe she was seeing him like this.

He looked down at his hand, flexing his fingers, and thought about the way the pain had felt in his side and ignored the way they both stared at him.

"We've examined your ribs and your head." He looked up in surprise, feeling like something had been ripped away from him. Too many times had he been treated like he had nothing and like he deserved nothing. And all from the people who were supposed to take care a him.

"The hell you mean?" The doc looked at Carol hesitantly before continuing.

"You reported to Mrs. Peletier that you took a fall. Naturally we did a CT scan to make sure you don't have any internal head injuries, as well as an examination of your ribs. You have two fractured ribs." Daryl could barely remember any of this happening. How'd they do it? How could he not remember them doing it?

"How?" Jenner's brows furrowed in confusion.

"Mr. Dixon-" he began and Daryl's lip curled in disgust. Only one person had ever been Mr. Dixon in his life and he sure as hell weren't gonna be the next.

"Daryl," he growled out, shifting on the bed, feeling too exposed on the bed for them both to see.

"You were given a mild sedative," Carol murmured, watching him closely. He swallowed hard, biting down the anger that threatened to consume him. He'd been knocked out and he didn't even know it.

"Yer tellin' me that you knocked me out," he whispered fiercely, making eye contact with Jenner, "and I didn't even know about it?" he finished harshly. Jenner swallowed heavily, glancing quickly at Carol. He wanted to punch Jenner, wanted to jump out of his skin. He couldn't believe he'd been given something, had things done to him, and he didn't even know about it.

"Daryl," Carol started, resting a hand on Jenner's arm to stop him, "you were exhausted and you were fighting everyone. The more you battled them, the worse your injury got. I…" she trailed off, looking desperate.

"So you put me to sleep?" he asked incredulously, and jumped out of the bed, backing away from them both. He felt the tubes and wires pull around him, and his gown shift airily behind him as pain shot through him but all he could see was them both standing before him. All he wanted to do was run, his feet itching beneath him.

"Daryl we told you we would have to sedate if you didn't calm down," Jenner tried to explain. "You refused to calm yourself, and in an attempt to stop you from hurting yourself, or the others of this hospital we did what was necessary."

Daryl took a threatening step toward Jenner, watching as he backed up warily.

"Get out," he whispered dangerously. He looked at Carol, saw the apology clear in her eyes, and his jaw ached. Maybe bringing him here had been for good intentions, but he hadn't agreed to nothin'. And that wasn't how he did things.

"Both of you." She watched him, and he could see everything she wanted to say before her eyes lowered.

"Daryl, you need – " Carol grabbed Jenner's arm and pulled. And when their eyes met she shook her head, and turned away, still taking him with her.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, standing before the door, her back to him. She was still, quiet, fingers gripping the handle tightly. She didn't turn, and he watched as her back heaved.

"I didn't know this would happen. If I had…" and she glanced over her shoulder. He wanted to turn away, to look away from her eyes and the understanding that was there. How could she know what he was feeling? How could she know anything about him?

But he could see that look in her eyes, and he'd seen Peletier and he knew.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, and walked out, leaving him behind. He was pretty sure that her apology was for a whole lot more than what had happened with the hospital. Somehow, it felt like she was apologizing for everything that had happened.

He glanced out the window, hating the way that sat in his chest.

And he didn't know why, but he wasn't mad at her.

He wasn't.

xXx

Lori stood on the front porch, arms over her chest. She could hear Sophia and Carl fumbling behind her, in the house, watching. But she wasn't going to step down from this one.

"Would you just…I'm only here to help," Andrea said, hands on her hips, losing patience herself.

Lori new that. She knew that Andrea loved Carol as much as she did. But Lori also knew that she and Andrea…didn't always get along. Things had been strained after Andrea had left Shane for Michonne.

No one knew why she did it, or how it had come about. But it was sudden, and it was unexplained. One minute she's with Shane, and the next, she's just not. The next she's with Michonne all the time and Shane wouldn't tell Rick a damn thing about it.

She wasn't sure what to think about it, but something had happened. And what she knew was that Shane was Rick's best friend and that made things difficult between them all.

"I know," she responded curtly, still not budging. Andrea could help all she wanted, but she didn't need to do anything inside the house, not while she was there. She didn't want to have to put herself in that position if she didn't have too.

Andrea shook her head, chuckling.

"What?" Andrea just turned away, waving back at her dismissively. Lori felt her hackles rise, and would have gone after Andrea.

"Never mind," she called, walking away fast.

Except that it wasn't worth it. It wasn't important, and it was childish.

She turned around, sighing heavily, and heard Carl and Sophia dashing away, stumbling over each in their haste. She smiled, and opened the door.

"Ya think you two can manage to help me wrangle up a few cattle, if you're not too busy spying on people?" She glanced down the hallway to see them both peering around the corner of Sophia's doorway, knowing they'd been caught.

She laughed, and beckoned them toward her, knowing they all needed to get out of this house.

xXx

Carol watched as they tried to examine Daryl's side more and he kept giving them trouble. He refused to let them take a look, and every time he saw her watching he pitched a bigger fit. The longer she watched, the more she was convinced he was going to make the damage worse.

She sighed and stepped away from the scene, hoping that her absence would do some good.

"Carol?" Sasha approached her, holding a small book in her hands.

"Yes?" She wasn't really in the mood to be questioned any further about the farm, or Ed, and she thought she'd made that clear to Rick. And she certainly didn't think Daryl was ready for any of that.

She couldn't stop it from happening, but she could hold it off for as long as she could.

"I have something for you," she said, holding out the book in her hands. Carol looked down, confused. Sasha had no reason to give her anything, and not a book.

She glanced up at her, not knowing what to say, unsure of whether to take the book or not.

"I found it, with a few of your other things in the hospital room," she said, eyeing Carol oddly. She still didn't understand. And then Sasha thrust the book at her, and she saw it was just a little paperback.

"The one that Ed was in," she tried again, her voice suggesting something that Carol wasn't catching onto.

She took the book carefully, feeling like she was missing something.

"I - " Sasha gave her a look that stopped her words short. She swallowed back what she was going to say, and held the book tight. There must have been a reason Sasha had given it to her.

Because she had never read a car manual in her life. And certainly not one that belonged to the county sheriff's office.

She looked up at Sasha imploringly, hoping she could explain what in god's name she was trying to say to her. Sasha glanced around, before leaning in to give her an off-hand hug.

"It was all I had," she murmured, into her ear. Carol held the book with a different feeling, knowing something was off. It still didn't look right in her hands though. "It's what inside that counts," she whispered softly as she pulled away.

Sasha nodded to her, knowingly, and Carol realized that she had left her something inside. She went to open the book and realized that a section had been bookmarked off. She pulled apart the pages and opened the book, and nearly dropped it.

"I thought you wanted it back," Sasha said abruptly, helping to steady her hands as Carol scrambled to close the book over the switchblade that lay open inside the book. She looked up at Sasha, feeling as if she'd been exposed.

"Unless…"

She nodded fiercely, pulling the book to her chest. She looked down at the book in her arms, feeling as if she'd been reunited with a piece of herself. Sasha cleared her throat suddenly, avoiding someone as they walked by.

"You know, for the Cherokee, now that…well." Carol chewed her lip, wanting to cry, wanting to laugh. She'd gotten into a situation where Sasha, her friend, but also cop, was smuggling her a switchblade in a hospital through a car manual.

She didn't even want to think of what this could do to her or Daryl.

"Carol?" She looked up, noting the curious look on Sasha's face and smiled, her eyes welling up. But it wasn't just the thought of what could happen to them. Sasha had brought her that knife; not fully knowing what it was to her yet still doing so.

She didn't even know how much of a friend she had in Sasha until this moment.

"Yes, I do," she said softly, caressing the cover of the book. "It…it was all I had," she said desperately, remembering all the times she had held her own book close, the blade tucked in secret between the pages.

That book was gone now, and she had forgotten about the blade with everything that had happened. But thankfully Sasha had been the one to find it. Thankfully, someone was looking out for her.

"How…how did you know it was mine?" she asked. Sasha shrugged her shoulders, adjusting the belt around her hips.

"When I saw it embedded in Peletier's pillow I put two and two together." Carol knew that if anyone else had found it, she would have been in deeper trouble than she already was.

Daryl would have been in more trouble.

"Can I ask you a question?" She looked up, a sliver of dread snaking down her back. But she nodded. She owed Sasha that much at least.

"Why the switchblade? Why not come to us?" Carol felt like this was a conversation long overdue, with anyone. But she wasn't ready for it. She wasn't ready to face what she had avoided, what she suffered for years.

"He was my husband," she whispered, turning away from Sasha. "He was my burden."

She expected Sasha to say something, to convince her it wasn't, to tell her that they could have helped her at any time. But she didn't. Instead, she felt a hand rest firmly on her shoulder and squeeze.

She looked up as Sasha gave her a small smile. And for once, it was a comfort.

"I hope not anymore," she said in a small voice, with a quiet understanding she had not thought was possible from the officer. She swallowed hard.

"I can keep it?" Sasha nodded, but looked confused.

"Yes, I was the only one who saw it. But, why keep it? Isn't it…aren't there too many bad memories?" Carol almost said yes, because the blade held a lifetime of abuse and suffering. It reminded her of all the times she had nearly used it when Ed had forced himself on her. When he had nearly beaten her to death. When he'd choked her, when he'd hit her over the head, when he threatened her life. How many times had she cradled that book, while she was bleeding, broken, in pain and almost opened it? How many times had she almost taken Ed's life herself?

"It saved me," she whispered, closing her eyes. Sometimes, it had been the only thing saving her when the lights were out. Sometimes, it was all she had when the pain became too much to bear. Sometimes it was all she had to protect herself against the demons that raged within herself. "It was my strength. And I want to keep it, to remember."

"Remember what?" She asked. Carol turned to her, clutching the book tightly to her chest.

"That I survived."

xXx

He pulled the shirt over his back quickly as Jenner entered the room. He breathed in relief when he realized that Carol wasn't there any longer. He'd seen her out there talkin' to that sheriff, a female at that. And black too. He'd never seen nothing like that back home. Merle would a had somethin' to say 'bout that.

She'd exchanged words with Carol and then they'd both left. He was just glad not to have her hoverin' around no more.

"I must advise you against this Mr. Dixon." He growled past the pain as he pulled his shirt over his arm, wincing as he did.

"Daryl," he spat back. He heard Jenner sigh, before a clatter sounded behind him.

"You'll have to sign these then, Daryl." Daryl turned at the retort in Jenner's voice to see him marking a piece of paper on the stand next to the bed. He glanced over, not knowing what they were for, not wanting to sign nothing he didn't know about.

Jenner must have seen his look. "They're release papers, saying you have heard my medical advice and have opted not to take it." Daryl grunted and buttoned up his shirt.

"Damn straight," he muttered, before sitting back on the back and slipping a foot into his boot. He bent to tie it up and groaned as he leaned back.

He heard Jenner sigh, before coming to kneel before him. Daryl pulled his foot away hurriedly, angry.

"Don't need none a yer help," he said, feeling like a goddamn pussy. He wasn't gonna be laid up by a little thing like this. He'd faced worse in the past. He'd get through this too.

Jenner sighed as he stood up and backed away, hands raised in surrender. Daryl watched him for a moment, feeling his side ache somethin' fierce before slowly putting his boot back out with a grimace. He glanced around before painfully, slowly propping his foot up against the table stand at his side. He leaned forward slowly and painstakingly tied his shoe.

"Since you've opted not to take my medical attention, I'm going to give you a few points on what not to do while you're out of here." Daryl snorted. He'd been through shit like this a thousand times. He knew exactly how this was gonna go.

He was gonna be in pain. He was gonna be hurtin' like a bitch. And he was gonna be goddamn useless.

But he wasn't.

He was gonna do whatever was fuckin' necessary not to be useless. He'd fight through the pain, just like he'd always done. Just like the ol' man had always made him do.

"You're going to be in a lot of pain, so I've written you a prescription that will help with the pain."

"No meds," he said shortly. He'd watched meds be abused his whole life. And he'd never gotten involved in that. Been a few close calls, but he never wanted to think about that ever again.

And he sure as hell weren't gonna put himself in that position ever again.

"Daryl, I really must insist. You're going to be in a lot of pain. It's going to be hard these first few weeks to do normal day to day activities." Daryl turned on Jenner, and cornered him.

"I know that," he growled, getting in his face. He wanted to make his point clear without having to get into any shitty details. "I know." Jenner searched his face for a moment, looking nervous before he nodded quickly, sighing heavily. He could see Jenner was coming to terms with Daryl.

"You're crazy for not wanting to take them, but…" he sighed, shaking his head, "it's up to you. I can only lead a horse to water." Daryl didn't know what the hell he was talking about, and Jenner laughed.

"I can't make the horse drink," he finished, and Daryl felt the urge to knock the doctor flat on his ass. These goddamn country fools, makin' fun a him like that.

"You're going to want to take it easy for a few weeks. I'm going to recommend some rest, and to take it easy for the first week. You need to lay off the hard labor for a month at least. I'd also like to see you in a month as well, for a checkup. But I know that I'm probably not going to," he finished with a smirk, eyeing Daryl.

He scoffed, and snatched the papers off the table; signing his name next to the X's that Jenner had marked across the paper.

"Damn right ya ain't," he snapped, and slapped the papers against his chest before walking out the door.

xXx

She sat in the stall, Sky Dancer lying next to her, and brushed him softly. She hummed quietly, running her hands over his body between brushing, laying her head against his shoulder when she wanted to listen to him breathe.

And he lay there, patient as she'd ever seen him. She talked to him, a few words here and there, nothing important mostly. Sometimes she talked about Ed, and what happened to him. Sky's tail twitched nervously when she mentioned his name and she didn't say much more after that.

She just wanted him to hear her voice again. And when she did, he would look up at her, nearly making her cry.

It was the look in his eyes when he looked at her, like he never wanted her to leave him again.

She almost left him alone, because she didn't think she could stand to see that look in his eyes. But she couldn't leave him alone. She wouldn't leave him alone again like that, not ever.

It was so hard to believe that she had gotten him back. To think that he had come back to her, from death itself, and made his way home had tears streaming down her face.

"You came back to me," she whispered, cradling his face in her lap, resting her head against his. He sighed, and she could feel the life coming back to her. It was like she'd died when he was taken from her, and now that he was back she was alive again. She could breathe.

"I thought I had lost you," she murmured, pressing her lips to his forehead, and his eyes closing. She rubbed his cheek softly, brushing his mane back, watching his lids flicker.

"I've done so many things wrong," she whispered thickly, her eyes blurred by tears. She leaned back against the stall wall, her chest growing heavy.

She could see Daryl as she closed her eyes, hunched in the bed with the white gown on, and she hated what she had done.

"He brought you back to me," she whispered, remembering the feeling of seeing Sky again, "he brought Sophia back to me," she said through her tears, curling her fingers in his mane. Feeling Sky so close, kept her grounded.

"And how did I repay him?" She thumped her head back against the wall, and closed her eyes against the sudden rush of feeling that swept over her. "By taking him to the one place he didn't want to go," she whispered desperately.

She should have known. How often had she forgone the hospital visits and simply done what she could to fix herself? How many times had she fixed a broken bone or dislocated shoulder or sewed up a cut forehead? How many times had she put a bandaid on it and told herself everything would be okay?

All because she didn't want to go there.

She didn't know Daryl. But she could see it in his eyes. She could see it on his skin. There was something in him that was so familiar, so recognizable that she should have known.

And she should never have made him go there.

"I just wanted to get him help," she cried softly, bending over Sky's neck, remembering the way Daryl had looked at her, the way his pained gaze had burned into her.

'Get out.'

"I just wanted him safe," she murmured against Sky's neck as hers tears wet his coat.

xXx

The bell rang and she looked up, nearly dropping the bottle of whiskey in her hands. But the shock didn't last long before she was laughing softly, and shaking her head.

"Well hey there stranger," she called, and Daryl looked up, a pained expression on his face as he clutched his side. She couldn't believe he was out of the hospital already, but if she got the right look of Daryl then he wasn't one to sit around for long. And that pained look was probably for his side.

She sighed. Men.

"What the hell are you doin' out already? Thought the dead was walkin' into my bar," she joked. He scowled, and she nearly burst into laughter at the look on his face but stopped herself. He was trying so hard not to look like it hurt. She bit her lip, thinking maybe it was better not to poke the agitated wolf.

"Walked," he muttered, clutching at his side.

He slowly made his way to the bar where he slid onto one of the stools, and closed his eyes wearily.

"Gimme a double," he murmured. She didn't think he should be drinking. He was probably on medication and the booze would mess with his head and the wound. But she wasn't gonna deny him this after what he'd been through.

"I ain't takin' nothin'," he said, and she whistled impressively. He'd walked all the way here on a fractured rib without any painkillers? Damn that was some kind of shit.

She pulled a glass down and poured him the double shot of Southern Comfort, knowing he needed it now. He opened his eyes and a smirk lifted his lips.

"You remembered," he muttered, downing the glass in one shot. She smiled.

"Got a gift for it. Anyone who comes in here, I can remember whatever they order." He cracked an eye at her, suspicious.

"Anyone?" She smirked. No one ever believed it at first either. But she'd proved them all wrong over time. Alcohol and people were her calling. Though, that was nothing to be proud of. And Daryl wasn't a hard one to forget.

"Anyone." Daryl just shook his head, not daring to question her. He tapped the glass on the counter, and she poured him another, knowing she shouldn't let him go too far. As he wrapped his hand around it to drink she put hers over his.

"Take it easy, alright?" He eyed her like he was gonna argue, and then he just sighed, nodding heavily. She leaned back, watching him. He looked like someone had beaten him to a pulp. Like hell warmed over.

He looked exhausted, the deep circles under his eyes puffy. There was a bruise along the side of his face, and another along the side of his arm, as if he'd slammed into something on that side of his body. She did hear that he'd taken a leap off a cliff.

He shouldn't be here. He should be at home, resting, and getting better. This wasn't the place for a man who'd risked his life to save a little girl.

"You need to go home Daryl," she murmured, leaning on her elbows toward him. He scoffed, tossing back the rest of the whiskey, the scowl deep on his lips.

"Ain't got no home," he whispered roughly. And she could see the emptiness in his eyes that had been there on the first day she had met him. Whatever had brought him here, whatever he was looking for, he had been running from something first.

And it hadn't been good.

He tapped the glass again, leaning back slowly, wincing. He looked up at the ceiling and there was a familiar pang in her chest. She knew what it was like to run from something. And for a man like this to run, to claim he had no home, to shrug off a wound like the one he had made her want to drink everything away.

She poured him another, a single this time. He didn't seem to notice though.

When she looked up, Michonne was watching her, as she usually caught her doing when something was off. She nodded her head and Michonne met her at the bar.

"Make the call," she whispered into her ear, squeezing her hand softly. She caught Daryl watching them, before turning away with a grimace.

"Ya know," she said, placing the whiskey bottle back on the shelf gently, "you're wrong." He looked up, surprised. But then a scowl replaced it, as he met her eyes.

"What would you know," he said gruffly, holding the glass up to the light, peering through it. She'd seen men do that, a certain kind of man. Ones who'd come in here looking for their way, ones who'd lost their way, ones who didn't have any more hope left in them. Men who didn't think nothin' of themselves. Men who had told her they had nothing left in themselves.

She was beginning to wonder about Daryl.

She leaned forward, studying him closely, seeing the lines edged into his face and the marks across his hands. She went to the register and bent below it, digging behind the bottles and pulled out an unbranded one with a clear liquid inside.

Daryl watched her with interest and she held it up as if in offering.

She poured him a glass first, and then pulled another down for herself. He watched, hesitation in his eyes now as she set the bottle on the shelf below her and sighed.

"People around here aren't what you think," she said, looking through the glass, and she watched him in the dim light, shadowed in darkness. He was a mystery, but it was apparent he was broken.

"Some might be better than you know, and others might not." She held up her glass and saluted him before downing it.

"This is a good home," she said softly, feeling the liquid burn down her throat as she looked over at Michonne longingly. She knew what it was like to want to run from something. And she knew what it was like to find hope in the least likely of places. "This place could be what you're looking for," she whispered as her gaze lingered there. She cleared her throat and looked at him.

"I don't know what you're running from," she whispered heavily, pushing the glass toward him, "but I'm not sure you need to anymore."

She knew that somewhere, Carol was waiting for him. She knew it. Carol was a weathered woman, but she never gave up on anyone. She may have wanted to knock some sense into her for never leaving Ed, but she would have to hand it to her. She was loyal. And you couldn't find that in most people these days. And Daryl was lucky to have made it to her in this life.

She just hoped that he realized that.

"This could be your home," she whispered fiercely.

He stared at her for some time, quiet, his eyes hard. But he didn't seem angry with her. And then she watched as he picked up the shot and drank it. She watched his face twist in recognition, the moonshine warming his bones just at it did everyone's.

And then he turned, limping and left without saying a word.

xXx

He walked home, his side aching the entire way. Every step he took was more painful than the last and he nearly stopped on the side of the road and found some shelter in the trees for the night.

But it was cold and something kept pushing him on.

"…could be what you're looking for."

He struggled on, clutching at his side. He stopped to catch his breath, to let the pain numb over. And then he pushed on because he could just see the light of the farm shining in the darkness ahead, calling like a beacon.

"This could be your home."

He didn't want to admit nothing, but something about her words had stuck with him. Maybe it was the moonshine. He laughed, and immediately regretted it. He couldn't believe she'd had moonshine. Merle would a been shit-faced happy finding his white lightning up here in the sticks.

Merle.

Merle would a been pissed at him being in the hospital too. They didn't have nothin' and goin' there meant dishin' out money they didn't have. And that meant his ol' man would a done him worse than he'd already got.

He sighed as he took that step onto the dirt road that led him to the farm. And something about it quickened his step even though the pain shot through his side with each move he made until he was panting.

He stopped at the entrance, leaning against the fence and stared at the house, eyes tracking the structure until he found his way to his little cabin and then the barn where the horses were.

He took a deep, steadying breath and then he saw Dale, seated by the entrance of the barn, waiting for him. He halted, felt everything spin for a minute.

Dale stood up and walked toward him, silently. He stood there and waited, as the tension thickened in knots in his stomach.

He thought Dale was gonna yell at him or somethin' but when he approached him he just put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed once as he looked him over before walking away. Didn't say anything, didn't do nothing. Just walked away. He watched Dale's back, as the knots untied. He'd never been welcomed back anywhere with anything but a beatin' or bein' ignored.

This was different. This was a feeling he'd not known before.

He sighed, feeling like he was never gonna get used to this place. He never had no one looking out for him, and now? Now he couldn't seem to escape all those eyes watching him.

He trudged up the dirt road, passing by the house, glancing to see the kitchen light still glowing through the window. He didn't think Carol would still be up seeing as how late it was. He stopped to watch the house, noticing that the rest of it was dark but for that one light.

And then he saw the swing shift and his eyes drifted.

He stilled, watching as the frame swayed back and forth, so softly in the slightest breeze. And there, laying on her side, was Carol. Her feet dangled over the edge, toes bared to the cold night air, shoulders curled in to protect herself.

He glanced around, as the darkness pushed in on him and the silence around him was deafening.

It was cold enough out here that she should a been covered up. She should a been inside. He didn't know why she was out here, didn't want to think on it.

But just as he was about to turn for the cabin he saw her curl in tighter. She was cold. She was cold, and she was sleeping on that damn swing and she would be out here all night.

He swallowed back the lump in his throat as he warred with each step that he took, right up those steps. He stopped at the foot of the swing, watching as she shivered in the kitchen light, and he knew he couldn't leave her out here.

He sighed, and pulled the blanket that was draped over the back of the swing across her body, careful not to wake her. She stirred once more, as the blankets shifted across her face and he stilled. He didn't want to wake her. He didn't wanna have to face her like this.

He wasn't ready for that.

She looked peaceful, for once. Like she didn't have to worry about nothin' in sleep. And maybe, now, she didn't have too. But that was a damn lie and he knew it. Just cos Peletier was gone didn't mean her troubles were.

Nothin' was ever that simple. He knew that better than anyone.

He turned and limped down the steps, holding back the groan that threatened to slip out. He stopped at the bottom of the steps, looking back up at Carol once more. She looked small beneath the blanket, her face softer in sleep.

Nothing like it had been in that room as she had whispered those words to him. Like it had all been her fault. As if everything that had ever happened, she could have prevented.

"I'm sorry."

He knew that feeling. Knew what it was like to think you'd done everything wrong. His whole life people had been treatin' him like he'd been a mistake and he didn't have nothin' to give. Merle was the only one who ever gave a damn, and who always looked out for him in his own fucked up way.

But Merle hadn't always been there. And he'd had to face the shit head on when he wasn't. He learned early on that sorry didn't get ya nothin' but another blow to the head, and a mark to show how worthless ya were.

But sometimes, he knew it was all you had to give.

"Ain't got nothin' to be sorry for," he whispered and walked away.

A/N: So I really hope you all liked the MPOVs. It's not going to be a common occurrence, but something I'll try when the element is needed. I did like the flow it gave here as it broke up the story, gave a little shift between Daryl and Carol and gave me different characters to voice. So I hope you liked. Thanks for reading guys!