A/N: Please proceed at your own risks, I can't stress enough the trigger warning about violence, sexual and everyday violence, as well as torture.

There were few steps to take to get to Carol, but Daryl felt each and every one of them in his very being. Joe had seen what they had been hiding, and he was calling out his bluff in front of everyone. What were his options? Admit to faking? Getting killed was not appealing, and neither would be what would happen to Carol if he did. He needed to up the game. What that meant gave him nightmares.

His heart was making the worst ruckus ever in his chest, blood pumping ferociously in his veins, ringing in his ears. This wasn't who he was. He was a survivor, but what he'd have to do to survive this time would surely damn his soul to Hell. It would mean losing himself forever, in hope of keeping a stranger alive, of keeping his own damn self alive.

But take her? That would mean rape.

Rape was a big no-no, apocalypse or not. Rape was not something he could do. He tried to think of a way he could pretend to rape Carol, but the thought made him want to puke. Showing her boobs, showing his ass, pretending to pound into her…

He felt like throwing up. He couldn't believe this was a thought he was having, couldn't believe he actually had ideas on how to proceed. All that mattered was saving Carol, right? But what if it meant maiming her forever? Sure you could lose a limb, say a hand and go on living, but losing your sanity?

He remembered how she had shaken when he had assaulted her, he remembered all too well how it had felt to have a frail body between his hands, at his mercy. This had not been something he'd enjoyed at all and if it never happened again then it would have been too soon. Except he was supposed to…

Rape her. Or pretend he was raping her.

Holy Hell. What was he supposed to do?

Even if by some miracle she understood it was a game of pretend and she played along, cried and begged for him to stop, he would still be butt naked surrounded by murderers who hadn't had a woman in months. Nothing indicated he would make it out of this challenge alive.

It was a challenge, issued by Joe, testing just how far he was willing to go before tossing the woman on her own and letting the others have their way with her. Bile was rising and burnt the back of his throat, threatening to pour out.

What the fuck was he supposed to do?

He took the last step and grabbed Carol's arms, not knowing what he would do, what was happening next. There was fear in her eyes, fear that tugged in his gut. He wanted to hug her, something so unnatural to him, and tell her everything would be okay. He wanted the Marauders dead. He wanted out of this shitstorm but he didn't want to leave her behind.

So many things he wanted, so little things he had any power over.

As she watched him make his way to her, having heard the bluff being called out, Carol felt frozen. They had discussed trying to avoid such a scenario and had tried to think of ways to lull Joe's suspicions away, but to no avail. They had taken extra care in making it look like Daryl had taken advantage of her, but it was all for nothing.

She saw the other pigs looking at her, leering at her, anticipating what was to come. Of course those assholes would want the first row to that show, as they couldn't play the main part. Carol had been abused but it had always been away from prying eyes: Ed had not been able to refrain himself and deal with his anger issues, but he had had a sense that what he was doing was wrong. Those men, they wanted to see her get abused, they wanted to see her debased. They wanted to bask in the glory of her humiliation and the pain they wanted to inflict on her, Daryl acting as a proxy for their violent tendencies. She could see them move closer, try to get a good angle at what they were about to witness, and she saw some of them reaching for their zippers, resting their hands on their groin, just fucking salivating at the thought of the show to come.

She had no doubt what the Marauders expected to happen, but she couldn't believe Daryl was coming to her, to do what they wanted him to do. The crowd wanted a show, and she felt like the gladiator thrown into the arena in the Roman Empire to be devoured by lions. She would fight for her life, she always would. Except… This was Daryl she was supposed to be fighting, and he was no lion, he was a fellow sacrifice. There were bad scenarios, and worse scenarios but this one beat them all. She just couldn't believe Daryl was intent on going through with it, but what other options were there?

She had vowed to herself after she had been rid of Ed that she would never be anybody's victim ever again, and so far while a prisoner, the archer had allowed her to not be a victim anymore or at least to have some semblance of control over what they were doing and what they weren't, in order to make her feel like she had some power in very small ways. As he walked to her, in what felt like slow motion, memories poured back in Carol's mind and she had to fight them while trying to find a way to … What was it she was trying to do? What options did she have? She was tied up though the noose was undone enough so that she could cook earlier. However it was nowhere near enough for her to be able to do anything. She couldn't throw a punch. If she grabbed something, her mobility range would still be reduced to almost nothing.

Death. That was the only thing on her mind. If Daryl tried anything… But he wouldn't… But Joe was making it impossible and the guy had to survive…. Death, she thought again, and while it was against her very nature, she thought about death, her own. If she died, if she killed herself, went berserk and got herself killed, Daryl would live.

But would he? If she made a move and tried to fight back, then Joe would know that she had been playing him and his fellow assholes by pretending to become more submissive. He would also know that Daryl had to be in on it though he wouldn't know in what capacity. If she stayed still and let Daryl damn his soul and go through with this new humiliation, she was losing herself for good. They would both be victims of the others and it would only be the beginning. What if one of the guys stabbed Daryl while he was on top of her, what then? She knew what would happen to her, she had no doubt or delusion about it. They'd kill her too.

The more she thought about it, the more it felt like they were doomed. Daryl not going through with it would mean his death, him doing it would mean both their deaths at a later point when the marauders would want a turn with her, not to mention the damages it would make to her psyche. There was a part of her that believed she could survive being used this way, that survival was so embedded in her, she could survive, but what would happen next? Another show, another display, new humiliations, until the pigs and Joe decided that they needed to spice up what they were forcing them to do? There was a chance Daryl would get killed and so would she. Was this what it all came down to? After days of fooling them, Daryl and her were not doomed, would die one way or another

Killing Joe… That would have worked for all of five minutes before the marauders found a new leader amongst themselves, someone less smart and less charismatic who wouldn't have a reasonable bone in their body. Killing all the marauders was not possible, two of them against the bunch of them just wasn't possible, especially with her hands tied.

Death. It seemed to all come down to it. Would they die now, or would they die later? How would they survive in the meantime? She barely knew Daryl but the little she knew told her he wouldn't be able to deal with this happening. He had barely been able to forgive himself for mauling her in front of the others. She had been able to put the experience behind, seeing the endgame and keeping her eyes on it at all cost, but he was different. He was that kind of guy, a fucking good guy and they were surrounded by assholes who would not give them a chance.

Was this day the day she became a victim again, the day she died, the day he died, or all of it at the same time?

Daryl made one more step towards her and their spot, his heart in his throat when suddenly, they heard the guttural sound they were too used to.

Walkers.

He had never been so happy for those fuckers in his entire life. He made a quick turn so that Carol was behind him and he looked at Joe who was eyeing the disruption with an annoyed expression. This changed completely when the door of the barn burst opened and they all realized it was not just one or two walkers, but a fuckload of them.

Daryl's mind and body got ready for a fight, blood pumping so hard he could hear it and feel it in his ears, adrenaline kicking in and leaving him amped up. There was no other door, they were stuck. He felt Carol's hand reaching out for him, and he looked at her, with her hands tied and the unreadable expression in her eyes. Almost out of instinct, he grabbed a knife from his gear and quickly cut the rope from her wrists before handing her the weapon.

The marauders were all up now and started fighting the walkers, who kept on pouring into the barn. Daryl jumped into the fight, taking out as many of those fuckers as he could, trying to keep Carol somewhere he could see her, to be able to help her but hell, she could hold her own. She was efficient and ruthless, heading straight for the head. There was no funny business and she didn't try to make their death amusing, as the marauders always did.

Len was barely holding his own, but Matthew and what's his name were around him. Joe had gotten his own knife but Harley had grabbed his gun and started shooting the dead, only attracting more of them. Joe punched him in the face, something he rarely did, always letting the others do his dirty business for him.

Daryl got lost in the fight, feeling more and more terrified as the walkers kept on getting in and the ones they had already put down now littering the ground were hindering their movements. They were toast, Daryl thought, with a quick look for Carol, who seemed to be thinking the same thing as she fought next to him, efficiently and feral-like. The marauders liked to think of themselves as wolves and maybe they had some traits that were wolf-life, but Carol, she was the she-wolf, the alpha in many ways. Daryl was amazed by her strength even though he knew she had to be a tough cookie to have survived so long, and having her on his side gave him a boost, the will to fight some more.

Walker after walker, he used his second knife as well as an arrow, he killed them, thinking that this was useless but he would not go down without giving it all he had. For a second, he lost sight of Carol. He turned around and saw she was trying to loosen up a plank from the barn.

This was genius. As the others had left them before in the corner when they had thought Daryl would become a sexual predator and give them a show, Carol and he were slightly isolated from the rest of the group, fighting together, back to back, in perfect sync. She gave him a look as she failed to remove the plank and he tossed her his knife, taking her place.

He would have splinters but he didn't care as he manage to remove one vertical plank. He tried to remove a second one but a walker surprised him, and he only had time to shove an arrow through the fucker's eye and into its brain.

They needed to run. He grabbed his bag and hers, then gestured for her to follow him through the hole he had created.

Walkers were waiting for them as they managed to slip through the narrow space, and they both killed a bunch of them, though they were less numerous on this side of the barn. Daryl tossed Carol her bag, and in sync, they ran, putting down more walkers on their way, never turning back to see what was happening to the motherfuckers who had made their lives hell.

They ran and walked, depending on how much energy they could muster, as the night was dark and the moon was hidden by clouds, giving them very little light to work with. At one point the clouds parted briefly and he noticed an abandoned trail. Daryl gestured to Carol, to let her know this had to be where the walkers had come from. Tacitly, they decided to use the trail which looked now deserted, the herd having gone one way. It was not the safest option, but they needed to disappear if the marauders, as the fucking cockroaches they were, made it through and decided to come after them. They were walking side by side, but always rotating around one another, in order to continue to have each other's back.

Hours went by and the sun started coming up. Daryl couldn't tell how far they had gone from the marauders, hoping they couldn't be traced, or only until a certain point.

She never stopped, never asked him for water, never said a word as they were on the same wavelength. The respect he had for her was endless he briefly thought, before gesturing for her to follow him and avoid a lonely walker on their path. If they left bodies behind, the marauders would be onto them like a shot.

They ran into the woods, away from the dead and its friends, until they ended up somewhere that felt far enough, at least for a stop.

"Think we're safe", he said, wiping the sweat and blood from his face.

Without a word, she pushed him against a tree and pushed her knife against his throat, trapping him.

"Carol…"

She was breathing heavily, and there was something in her eyes that he couldn't read. He gulped and felt the knife against his throat, almost cutting him.

She was strong, and he realized that she could effectively take him down.

"For Fuck's sake, Carol," he whispered.

He would not beg, but he had to get her back as she seemed to have disappeared somewhere in her head.

In this world, they didn't have the luxury to suffer from PTSD, but it sure felt like it.

"You don't know me, Carol, but my actions… They speak for themselves," he tried to tell her.

He realized he had never said her name as much in all the time they had been together, but it felt necessary to remind her of who she was and who he was and what he'd already done to keep her safe. She had his life in her hands.

She looked at him and her eyes were full of too many emotions for him to understand them all.

"You're right," she finally said. "You don't fucking know me. I could kill you right now, slit your throat and let you turn. I could hurt you."

"I would never have hurt you," he said, thinking back about what he had almost had to do and how he had hoped to not do it for real. "I wouldn't have raped you. I'm not that guy."

He didn't mention how he would have done things if Joe and the rest of the others had waited for him to rape her, but he needed her to know. He could tell she was overwhelmed, from the fear of new abuse, and the fight for their lives. After a week of constant terror of the men they were walking with, she seemed to have snapped. He never expected gratitude, and truth be told this was closer to how he would have imagined she should react day after day.

His life was in her hands. Even if he tried to get free, she would cut the carotid before falling and he would be a goner.

"You do not know me," she said again, and she had never looked more feral, not even when she had been killing walkers left and right by his side. "Here is a tip. I'm good at surviving. Hell, I'm amazing at survival. You'd think I wasn't, like some old guy, and for a while I would have told you that I was bound to die, but I survived," she spat out with anger, tears in her eyes. "I fucking lost everything, but I survived. I do that. Survive."

She kept on saying the word like she wanted to get the point across, but there was no need for that. He didn't say it, though, waiting to see what she would do next.

"I could kill you. I could fucking kill you, and probably survive," she said again, pressing the knife against his throat, and blood had to be pearling. "Men, they think because I'm a woman, I need protection. I protect my own, always, even when they won't see what I'm doing is all for them."

She was lost and he had no idea how to get her back. This was it, he thought. He had protected her for a while, because it also meant protecting himself, but not only. It was the moment when she decided, if what he had put her through to make her survive should be punished, and while he was a survivor, would always be a survivor, there was a small part of him who felt at peace, ready to accept her sentencing. He closed his eyes, and was surprised by the peace he felt, as he laid his life at her feet, waiting for her to do what she had to do. He didn't want her to look at him and waver. She had lost everything, and she was finally claiming back her freedom. How ironic, given it all began when he had claimed her.

"Men fucking rape you and push you around, make you believe you're useless, and you believe them, because if you dare think otherwise, then it's worse. I am not a victim anymore," she said each word pointedly.

His eyes shot open, as he knew she needed him to acknowledge her words, and her pain, what she had gone through in the past, before and after the world had ended.

"Men kill women. It's the fucking apocalypse, and guess what, we still get killed because we're women. But not I. Not anymore. I survive. No matter the cost, I survive. Even when I want to die, I survive."

"What are you gonna do?" he asked her.

It was her moment, it was about her and everything she had been through.

"I will not let a man kill me," she said. "That time is gone. I do the killing. I do the surviving. I stay on this goddamn Earth even when I don't want to."

She looked at him, straight in his eyes, and he didn't speak, just gave her a look, so honest it hurt, as he waited for her to decide.

"I survive," she said again.

Then she removed the knife from his throat, and he felt like the biggest burden of all time had been lifted from his shoulders.

She had chosen. She had chosen to let him live.

"We need to go North," she spoke after a while.

She still looked shaken, but she had made her choice and they were staying together.

He nodded, and silently, they kept on walking as quickly as possible, far away from the marauders.