A/N: Thank you for everyone reading and commenting, you make my day every time. Trigger warning for mention of rape and sexual abuse.

They walked for four days this way, from dawn till dusk, always settling in for the night somewhere they made secure, and night after night she found herself sleeping in Daryl's arms. It was still as strange as the first night, but she had also found out that in this situation they were in, this was not the worst part by far. He kept her safe at night, and she kept an eye out. They didn't speak, and while uncomfortable at times, there was also a sense of peace, something alien but true. When the day had been spent dealing with the marauders, keeping up the charade and pretending some more on top, when she would lay in his arms, waiting for sleep to come, she would feel in sync with him though it made no sense. It was as if they shared the same thought, they had made it through another day.

She knew the days had gone by because she kept track, the same way she had when she had been on her own. Four days felt like a decade. Then one day, Len decided he couldn't go on anymore because of his ankle, glaring daggers at her and Joe decided that they would stay in the same place for a couple of days, until he was feeling better. This seemed mighty charitable of the leader but when she thought about it, trying to see it through his eyes, Len was a hindrance more than an asset with a busted ankle so giving him those few days off his feet made sense. However, she had the distinct feeling that it was a trial for the guy and that if he didn't get better, something would happen to him and the group would be one man down.

On that fifth morning, Daryl waited till everybody was doing something, and he grabbed his gear and gestured for Carol to follow him. She was tempted to roll her eyes, given that she had no choice but to follow, and he gestured for her to keep the noise down which was in itself useless as she was always walking on the tip of her toes, or so it felt.

They walked into the forest, quickly and silently, until he crouched and gestured for her to do the same. She noticed that he had let go of the rope that he usually had tied around one of his wrists, making her free. She knew better however than to try and take advantage of this, as it would be too obvious for one.

He seemed to be listening to something she couldn't see and she focused on the sound of the forest.

"We're hunting," he finally told her. "I know you still have cans in your bag but since we're staying in one place, might as well find something else to eat."

She looked at him and nodded.

"Don't worry," he said, "we ain't killing Bambi. If we killed a deer and brought it back, we would have to share it and leave a trace for walkers to come after us. We'll be looking for smaller game, like squirrels. Maybe possum."

"For the record, if we had been killing Bambi, I would have taken down his mom without a second thought," she found herself retorting.

She was rewarded with a tiny grin that she would have missed had she not been focused on him at that moment. This had been happening, from time to time More often than not, she could tell the grin was there more than she could see it like when they would take their break apart from the group at night and she would say something that would create a smile. He had even chuckled once, though he had gone back to being stoic the following second. She found it hard to laugh, but she had flashed him a couple of smiles too. It was weird, this sense that in any other settings, they might have gotten along. They had some admiration for one another though it was a silent thing. She admired the way he took risk to keep her safe and she knew he admired the way she managed to go with the flow to keep them alive.

She had an inkling he had to know she was no blushing flower, running away from a kill, but she wanted things to be very clear. She didn't regret breaking Len's ankle when she had been caught what felt like a hundred years ago, and if he got left behind because of his injury she would have no trouble being able to live with it.

She wondered if he could read what she really meant between the simple lines she had said.

He gave her a look which made her believe that he indeed could. A look filled with knowledge and approval, eyes twinkling with humor.

"Why you playing them?" He asked under his breathe, making sure he was not making eye contact.

So he had noticed, she thought, not that she expected anything else from him. These past few days, she had adapted her behavior in a way she thought would be more lulling for the marauders. She didn't threaten them out loud and pretended to avoid their glares. When Daryl would touch her, she would have a chill, for show more often than not, and then pretend to fall into herself before following him. They would go away as they had done that first time, and they would do the same thing, take care of their business, then roughen her up for show. Daryl hadn't always found the plant he had been looking for, but they had found something similar to nettles but less aggressive, and while it left patches more than just redness, in the darkness of the camp, no one had seemed to notice the difference in patterns. Every night they talked about what they had had to do that day, and what they could do to make it look more real, though always talking in hushed tones and making sure to use euphemisms in case one of the men decided to follow them. After that first night with the group when Len had come to sleep next to them, it had been Matthew's turn the following night, and so on. It seemed they were under hyper scrutiny, like Joe had issued instructions they were not aware of but that implied that Daryl wouldn't be able to keep Carol subdued. With all of this, they couldn't allow themselves to be sloppy as the guys were not that smart and something not made clear enough could probably start a fight. Her toning down her resistance and the way she behaved seemed to work fine with the scrutiny and the charade, as if he was subduing her more and more. It was tricky, though, because she couldn't let the others believe that she was getting used to all of them. It was a fine line she was walking but she had too much experience in doing things like this and she wouldn't be caught unaware.

"Two can play a game," she said. "Or three or four," she added as an afterthought, thinking back to the way Joe was watching her and watching them interact.

"It'd help to know what game we're playing," he said in a low tone.

"Survival," was her only response.

She was a prisoner with the group of thieves and murderers and the more time went by the more she realized that Daryl was as trapped as she was. Hell, by claiming her, he had put himself in a corner, forcing himself to stay with the others in order to be able to keep his claim on her. They were playing the others, though the display they had had to put on had felt too close to reality for her taste, but that didn't mean it had to be their only card.

If she played herself down, as if was giving in, slowly and piece by piece to Daryl, she was becoming even less of a threat to the group as a whole. She would never be off their radar, but there was no point in being blunt and telling each and every one of them how much pain she wanted to inflict upon them as retaliation for the things they had made happen. It was much smarter to play it down.

She hated the word play, especially when it was a game of life or death, but there was no other way to describe it. It was like chess. She was pretending to be a pawn, while hoping she could turn out to be more useful like a bishop or a horseman. By pretending she was acknowledging Daryl's claim and not fighting it, it made things easier for them to be left alone, and it also gave her, and maybe them together, the element of surprise if she got a chance to use it to their advantage.

She was awe struck for a second as she realized she was thinking of Daryl and her as a team. Their shared experience of being abuser and victim had created a bond against all odds, that ran deeper than water and felt just as fathomless. They had both shared that pain made common to them both through their equal distaste for what was expected and they had both hated the others for making them go through this. They were together in this as far as they were not part of Joe's family. They were outsiders.

He had to know, she thought, that he was not part of the group and she hoped he was elated by that prospect. Having lost his brother and the only person he had trusted, it could have been so easy to try and blend in with some new people, find a new place and let someone else take the lead, but his claim on her proved that he was not one for blending in, at all costs, which had come as surprise to all parties involved, even Daryl. From what she remembered at the quarry and the little things he had said about his time with Merle, Daryl had been a follower, blending in with the people they had encountered, completely aware that he could say no but never having done so, until that night when he had claimed her. In doing so, she had the feeling he had broken free from Joe's hold on him, earning his distrust, but showing at least to her what kind of man he really was. As days went by, as the charade took its toll on them, she watched him, and she felt like he was thinking of exit strategies, of ways of getting them out of there. She wanted out and if he could free her she would do whatever it took to achieve that goal. What could happened next was a blur though.

They stayed silent as he searched for clues she couldn't see more often than not, then he found some squirrels, and a rabbit. It was more than enough for the day, and while she didn't look forward to the cooking that would undoubtedly be her duty, including the cleaning of the catches, she thought that she could make a brew, nothing fancy, but something different still. Something civilized. That would be a kick, wouldn't it, to be eating something elaborated when standing around somber brutes….

Though one was not so much of a brute than he was a tactician.

"I think Joe might be on to what we tried to sell him the last time around." She broke the silence.

As they made their way back to the others, he thought back over the conversation they'd just had, if it could even be called that. It had felt good to be able to call her out on the way she was behaving, letting her know that he was no fool, but it had also been frightening. What if Joe saw it?

Daryl didn't really know or wasn't sure he could have explained how he had spotted the difference in the way the woman had been behaving, but he supposed he had been too used to adapting his movements and his temper when around his father, something must have felt familiar and triggered a memory, and recognition of what she was doing.

She was so not the woman he had barely knew ages ago, that much they had established over and over again, but as he watched her adapt the way she reacted to the others, to play a part and be someone she wasn't, he was amazed and felt relieved this woman was on his side.

It came down to this really, he was not alone anymore. This hunting trip had been a whim of his, and while nothing had happened seemingly, there had been a multitude of things taking place left and right. She hadn't run. She had stayed by his side. She had even pointed in the direction of a squirrel at one point, when he had been distracted by what he had thought was a possum but had really been nothing. When he was hunting, he was deep into it, and his surroundings sometimes barely registered. She could have taken advantage of his focus and probably injured him. Sure, that would have led to her quasi almost certain death, but if she had wanted, she could have and the fact that she hadn't spoke volumes in his head.

After the things he had had to do, back then, when he had mauled her in front of everybody to stake his claim like she was territory to be grasped, the way she acted and hadn't seized the opportunity to off him earlier made him feel like a new man, like he was redeemed, but he had also noticed that she didn't think he needed to redeem himself. What he had done, no matter how despicable and sick it had been, Carol had understood then and still did why it had been necessary. She had played her part, through and through. When he had needed to claim her again in front of the guys, and she had whimpered and fought him, he had been ready to toss the charade to the wind and try to take the others on. The fear she had been radiating had left him breathless and hurting. The fact that he had been the one inflicting such atrocious pain on her had plagued his thoughts that whole day and then some. However, Carol had seemed to slowly, not spontaneously, let him off the hook as she dealt with what she was feeling.

Taking her hunting had been about creating an opportunity for her to let him know that what he was seeing was true: she was with him.

It was weird. He didn't know if he could get used to it or even if he should but for once since joining the marauders, he had an ally. It didn't escape him that gaining that ally had meant alienating the original pack,, but he couldn't say he was too sad about that. They had been a means to an end, staying alive. However, finding someone to stand beside him made that status change again, and this time they were becoming enemies. The dumbest of the lot couldn't see it, but Joe… He was one bad motherfucker, but killing him was not an option: his charisma was the only thing acting like a leash on the rest of the assholes. Still he was a terrible threat in that he saw things, and never took them at face value.

Carol was a good actress, but what happened if Joe caught her off guard, or if he saw her mask drop for a second? He had seen it himself, but he would have liked to think it was because she had been enough at ease around him to drop the act. Joe seemed to have eyes everywhere. What if he already knew?

They came back to the place they would be staying, an old barn they had cleaned from zombie presence for Len's sake and their own. Just a few meters away from where they could have been seen, Daryl retied the knot around Carol's wrists, so that no one would know of the freedom he had given her. She went to their corner with him and they started working on the meat he had caught. This would be no history making meal but he was looking forward to some meat. Sure, in the cans of bean and sausage he had had some proteins, but nothing replaced the feeling you had when you were eating something you had chased, something cooked fresh over a flame. Carol had told him back in the woods about her stew idea and he emptied and readied the meat as she worked on a casserole and some spices someone had left behind. This barn had seen more than one camp of survivors take a moment to rest judging by the leftovers.

Carol looked grateful when he handed her the meat clean, and he cut it for her as it would have seemed out of the charade to give her too much freedom. She put some herbs in the water and a can of mixed vegetables before dropping the meat in. The scents it emitted made the marauders green with envy, and Daryl couldn't bring himself to care. There would be more than enough for Carol and him, but he had no plans to share it, it would get dumped if they couldn't finish it which he highly doubted given their own state of hunger. The others could go fuck themselves if they thought they'd be having any of it, bunch of dogs begging for scraps.

Daryl noticed the way Carol looked for his eyes, for his approval, before making a much more tangible display for the others, presenting him with a spoon of stew and pretending to hold her breath in as he tasted it. When he nodded in delight, she made a little noise, as if she was happy, and he thought that if Joe hadn't been there to be a pain in the ass, her act would have been the only thing needed to sell the others the idea that she was suffering from Stockholm syndrome.

As soon as it was done, so as not to draw in any walkers, or worse other survivors on their trail with the delicious smell lingering in the air, Carol and Daryl polished off the food, eating every last bit of it.

With his belly full and feeling content for once in a long time, Daryl was about ready to call it a night when Joe made a throat noise.

This was bad news, Daryl thought as his eyes went to Carol who was rinsing the pot she had cooked in, a souvenir from a previous group who had inhabited the barn. They broke apart as quickly as possible, not wanting the others to catch onto the fact that they were a team.

Fuck, a team, Daryl thought briefly.

"It's been five days," Joe finally said, and Daryl looked a few feet from him to Carol, following the leader's stare.

"Yeah? So what?"

"You claimed her five days ago, and took her then. But ever since, zilch, nada, nil," Joe spoke slowly as if he was building the intrigue for the others, which he probably was.

"We're on top of each other all the time," Daryl tried to say, forcing himself to sound incredulous, as if their fearless leader needed to get his eyes checked.

"Wouldn't keep me off my woman."

The others grunted in agreement, and Daryl felt sweat up and down his back. He saw Carol freeze where she was, and he thought back to their conversation. The dreaded scenario seemed to be happening.

"If you do not take her tonight, in that corner over there, where you will have your damn privacy you cling to like a lady clinging to her pearls, then the claim will be null and void. She will become ours again."

Daryl's mind was all over the place, wondering how to deal with this threat while noticing that Joe had talked about the woman being theirs, clearly drawing a line between him and them. Things weren't good, but what choice did he have?

"Give me twelve hours. I want a bed," Daryl tried to bargain. "She already serviced me plenty while we were out in the woods, hunting," he said, taking the time to detach the word from the rest, hoping to imply for everybody that hunting hadn't been the main activity. "I could do with a bed, just for once. Fucking ain't cool when you've got straws poking in your ass and sides."

"I'm sure Len or Matthew could forget about the inconvenience of the straws if they were on top of your lady", Joe said.

This was war, or how war started. They weren't playing possum anymore.

"You win," Daryl said, and the others howled as Carol seemed to shrink in on herself. "Or I win."

And he made his way to Carol, knowing what had to be done.