The Spare Room

Summary: The bills keep piling up and if Daryl Dixon has any hope of improving his life, he and his brother are going to have to find someone to fill their spare room. The problem is that while he can't stand his new roommate, he finds himself falling for his roommate's girlfriend. Caryl. AU.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters that you recognize from the Walking Dead.

Chapter 27

Carol used her hand to rub the steam off of the bathroom mirror. For a moment, she stared at her reflection.

Her auburn hair was wet and sticking to the sides of her face, making her look like a drowned rat. The damage Ed had done earlier only made her look even more pathetic…defeated. Her blue eyes were watery and almost overshadowed by the dark, swollen bruises that covered her face. Her lip was split opened and trembled as she examined herself in the mirror.

She didn't feel better after her shower. She felt worse. She felt pathetic. Weak.

The bruises on Carol's face and body were glaring reminders of how weak and stupid she had been in regards to Ed Peletier. They were badges of shame.

She turned away from the mirror and focused instead on drying off and dressing in her pyjamas. Then she moved to gather up her dirty clothes, but stopped short. Only an hour ago, she had bent down to gather up Ed's dirty clothes and found a pair of panties in the pocket of his dirty jeans. Tears stung at Carol's eyes. It had been adding insult to injury, salt to an open wound. It just made everything hurt all the more to know that Ed had cheated on her. She had been a fool. A damn fool.

She shook her head and quickly dressed, hoping that she might feel better once she was out and interacting with Daryl and Merle and not alone with her thoughts. She had her doubts though. What would they see when they looked at her? Would they see her to be just as pathetic as she saw herself? Would they see her as a stupid woman for staying with Ed as long as she did? Merle already didn't want her around his brother. Surely after everything, he would see her as even less worthy of Daryl than before. And Daryl…

Daryl had been telling Carol for weeks that Ed was bad news and she hadn't listened to him. She hurt him so many times because she couldn't bring herself to admit the truth. What if the events of the day had made him wise up? What if he finally realized that she wasn't worth his time? She was weak, naïve, and she had made so many mistakes that had hurt him. She wouldn't really blame him if he changed his mind. After all, what man would want a woman who couldn't take care of herself, who let herself get hurt?

Suddenly the prospect of interacting with Daryl and Mere didn't seem quite so appealing. It seemed terrifying…almost as terrifying as being alone with that voice in her head that kept berating her for putting herself in this position in the first place.

Carol swallowed hard and leaned her forehead against the door as tears slipped down her cheeks.

0-TSR-0

Merle was on a mission to make sure that Ed Peletier was moved out by morning. He didn't give a shit that he could only do so much with only one good arm. He threw stuff into boxes without a care in the damn world. He had been pleased to find that the boxes Carol had used to move in were stashed neatly in the closet.

"You're gonna wear yourself out," Daryl observed from the doorway of the bedroom. He had been hovering there since Mouse had slipped into the bathroom for a shower, keeping one eye on Merle and one eye on the bathroom door.

"I want that prick out," Merle growled, standing and kicking a full box of crap towards Daryl, "Ain't havin' that cock-sucker's shit in my goddamn house."

"No shit, but why don't ya wait 'til tomorrow-"

"Ain't waitin'," Merle grunted, pulling an empty box towards him to start filling. Daryl turned his attention back to the bathroom door, seeming to give up on Merle for the time being so that he could brood to the door.

After about four more boxes, Merle could feel that his good arm was tired and sore. It didn't help that his broken arm was throbbing awful where they had put the rod into his arm. It also didn't help that Merle still couldn't feel a thing in his right hand. Even though it had only been a week, Merle had still expected to feel something by now. He expected to be able to move his fingers. He was almost worried, but then he reminded himself that it had only been a week. There was still time. His hand would be fine. There was no sense in being stupid about it, like he had been on Saturday when he decided to try to drink his worries away. That hadn't worked out at all.

Merle shook his head. That had been stupid. So damn stupid. He should have known better, considering that drinking with Ed had been the thing that fucked up his arm in the first place. Daryl had been right to say that Merle was pathetic for trying to keep that lazy fuck happy. Looking back now, Merle felt cheap. Dirty. He felt like a dirty old whore doing anything under the sun for money, no matter how degrading or disgusting.

He was ashamed of himself.

Never again, he vowed, wrenching a dresser drawer open and scooping out the contents. Never again would he kiss ass like that. It wasn't worth it. Everybody in this house had been hurt because Merle had been adamant that Ed stay to pay rent. Everybody in this house had suffered through Ed's asshole rants. Daryl had gotten decked by the bastard and Merle had turned a blind fucking eye. Then Merle himself had been fucked in that accident and still, he had tried to make it work for the money's sake. And now Carol…

All afternoon, a handful of memories had played over and over in Merle's head on repeat.

He was a boy, laying awake in bed, listening to his parents fight. He got up when his mama started screaming. He walked uncertainly down the hall. His mother was on all fours and his father was on top of her. Tears streamed down her face as she told Merle to go back to bed.

He was still a boy, now responsible for keeping his little brother quiet while his mama and daddy argued again. Little Daryl clung to him, frightened of the noises. The next morning when the little thing saw Ruby Dixon following the fight, Daryl wouldn't go to her. He didn't recognize the woman under the bruises. Instead, Daryl clung to Merle's pant leg.

He was a teenager, standing at the payphones at a juvenile detention center and listening to the scratchy voice of Uncle Jess as he explained that Ruby Dixon had died in a fire. Jess had said Daryl and Pa were fine. Merle's only thought was that she had finally done it. She had finally escaped.

He was still a teenager, and now instead of watching his pa take his anger out on someone else, Merle was the target. He was laying on the floor of the garage, broken, beaten, and bloody. His back was lashed opened by his father's belt. For the first time ever, Merle wanted to take a gun and shoot his own kin. It scared him. He needed to get away before that happened.

He was a young man, coming home after being away for so many years. Immediately, he knew that something was wrong with his brother. Daryl had always been quiet, but now he had an air about him that reminded Merle of a puppy that had been kicked too many times. Soon, the reason was apparent. Merle discovered his brother's scars, scars that were the same as Merle's own. Guilt swelled up inside him. He should have been there.

He had been drunk and high as the girl rode his dick. Over the girl's shoulder, he could see Ed in the kitchen as some red-head sucked him off. Merle's vision blurred, but in the next instant, Ed was slamming the red-head into the counter. Ed was beating her senseless before Merle intervened and pulled him off of her.

Then there was today, another scene of a man taking his anger out on someone weaker than him. This time, it was Carol, that sweet little thing that didn't have a mean bone in her body. She was too small to fight back, just like Merle's own mama had been. She was hurt bad, her face disfigured by the same ugly swelling and bruising that had once scared Daryl away from his own mother. Merle had took her from the room as the tears made tracks down her cheeks. He saw a woman who was broken…a woman who had been hurt one too many times. It had dawned on him that it might not have been the first time Ed hurt her. And then he felt the guilt. He had seen Ed's true nature and he had remained quiet. If Merle had told the girl what Ed had done before the car accident, would it have been different? Would she have left the asshole sooner?

And then later today, there was her expression when she had found the panties in Ed's jeans. She was hurting even worse now and Merle couldn't help but feel that it was all his fault for remaining mute.

Carol Ann might not have been Merle's kin, but it was plain to see that the girl was important to Daryl and that made her important to Merle. He now had an obligation to do right by her for his silence, just like he had an obligation to do right by Daryl for his absence.

"She's been in there awhile," Daryl ventured, breaking the silence. Merle paused for a moment.

"She's hurtin'. Give her time."

"You think she needs help?" Daryl asked anxiously, fidgeting against the wall, "You think Ed hurt her more'n what them doctors said?"

Merle dismissed that. Carol was moving around just fine. Most of the damage had been to her face. He shook his head and said, "She'll come outta there when she's ready to. Told ya that she's gonna be skittish for a while."

"She wants me to stay with her tonight," Daryl admitted in a small voice. Merle looked up at him. His brother seemed almost bashful about it.

"Well good on Mouse, but don'tcha be doin' nothin'. She don't need no funny business."

Daryl scowled, "I weren't gonna try nothin'. She's hurt."

"Ya best not," Merle said firmly, "That woman don't need some asshole pawin' at her right now. She needs a man."

"I am a man," Daryl protested, frowning down at his brother. Merle stood up, his cobalt blue eyes still trained on Daryl. He was studying his brother's reaction.

"Ain't 'bout age, Daryl. It's about actions. It's about patience. Any man can go out and shoot a damn deer. Takes a special one to get that deer to come eat out of his hand," Merle said. Daryl's frown deepened as he worked out what Merle was trying to say.

"I told her I'd wait 'til she was ready and I mean it," Daryl told him, "Ain't nothin' gonna happen 'til she says so."

Merle nodded, satisfied with his response, and turned back to his task.

"Why do you care so much, Merle?" Daryl wondered, causing his brother to pause, "Just two days ago, you was givin' me shit for likin' her."

Merle thought about his silence and how he should have said something about Ed's true nature. He knew how Daryl would blame him for not speaking up. Instead, Merle said softly, "'Cause I saw what happens when a woman gets broke. Ain't pretty and if ya can fix Mouse…well…she'll be better off for it."

"You think so?" Daryl asked, sounding genuinely confused.

"Couldn't hurt," Merle shrugged, "Ya-"

He paused when he heard the bathroom door open. Though he couldn't see the Mouse right away, Merle did see his brother's reaction. Daryl stood up straighter and his eyes were zeroed in on Carol. There was so much emotion on the boy's face. Sorrow, longing…love.

Merle couldn't remember the boy ever looking at another person with that much intensity. Daryl was playing with fire and Merle hoped that he wouldn't get burned.

0-TSR-0

Daryl spread the blanket out on the floor while Carol watched him from the other side of the room.

"What are you doing?" she wondered, tilting her head to the side and keeping her arms crossed defensively across her chest. Daryl paused for a moment to look up at her through his fringe of dark hair. Merle had been right. From the moment Carol exited the bathroom, she seemed to be different. Jumpy. Nervous. Unsure. It was hitting her, the weight of everything that had happened and Daryl knew that he needed to be the man Merle had wanted him to be.

"You can have the bed," Daryl said, gesturing to it, "I got the floor."

Carol frowned, which had to be painful given her bruises, and replied, "I can't take your bed-"

"I want ya to," Daryl told her, "Bed's too damn soft anyway."

"Daryl-"

"Take it," he encouraged Carol, "You need it more'n I do. I'll be right here if ya need me."

Carol looked at him for a long moment and must have seen that he was not budging. Then she sat down on the bed and looked up at him. She opened her mouth a couple of times, but nothing came out. Daryl waited. He'd wait her out for as long as she needed. Finally, she said in a small voice, "How did everything get so messed up?"

"It ain't that messed up," Daryl replied, "It's just…uh…"

"It is," Carol maintained, tears filling her eyes, "Everything…it's wrong, Daryl. It's wrong and…and…"

"What's wrong?" Daryl asked, kneeling down in front of her so they were at the same height, "Tell me."

"I just…I never…I never thought that this would happen to me," Carol said, wiping her cheeks as the tears fell, "I thought that I would marry Ed and…and we'd have a house and babies and…and now…it's all falling apart."

Daryl would've been lying if he said that he didn't feel like a knife was driving into his chest as she described her potential life with Ed. He tried to hide it. She didn't need to deal with that right now.

"He hurt me," Carol continued, "He hurt me in ways that I…I never expected and now…I don't know what to do."

"You'll be okay," Daryl promised her, reaching up tentatively to wipe the tear from her cheek, "You're…you're strong and kind and smart and funny and amazin'…you don't need someone like Ed that's gonna break ya down. You're gonna be…amazin' and great."

"You said 'amazing' twice," Carol observed.

"That's 'cause ya are," Daryl said bashfully, delighting in the shaky little laugh that fell past her lips. She was quiet again for a moment and Daryl watched as the smile slowly left her face.

"Daryl?"

"Hmm?"

"What if I'm already broken?" Carol asked in a soft, scared, quiet voice.

"You ain't," Daryl told her without hesitation, "Ya ain't broke, Carol."

"I should've known better," Carol whispered, "You told me, my parents told me…everyone did and I…"

"That ain't your fault," Daryl said firmly, "None of this is your fault, Carol. It's his. He's the one that wanted to be the asshole that left them bruises on ya face. He's the one that don't have no decency. 'Sides, ya gotta look at it different. Ya ain't alone or left or whatever. See, ya got a chance to start over."

"Start over?" Carol asked, perplexed, frowning at him, "How? I don't understand…"

Daryl shrugged his shoulders a little and explained, "I'm tryin' to. Start over, I mean," he averted his eyes and looked down at the comforter on the bed, "See, where I come from…well, the name Dixon ain't a good name to have. Folks look at ya like you're the devil, even if ya never done nothin' to nobody. Mostly was my pa, a couple uncles, and Merle that built up that reputation. Leavin' Clayton was my chance to start over. Be better."

"Oh," Carol said softly.

Daryl wasn't exactly sure what that meant, but he continued, "Leavin' Ed…well, that's your chance to start over. Find someone better. Someone who treats ya like ya derserve to be."

Carol was quiet for a long moment before she nodded her head, "Maybe you're right."

"Be known to happen," Daryl shrugged again before moving away to settle down onto the bedding he had placed on the floor, "Best get some rest."

Carol hesitated for a moment, but then she was laying down in the bed and settling into the covers.

0-TSR-0

It was absolutely amazing what the human body could withstand, Dr. Michael Alexander thought as he stared down at his patient.

After hours of surgery, it seemed as though the young woman was stable, but her doctor knew that she was nowhere near okay and would likely never be again. Veronica Creedy was in a medically induced coma, which would hopefully allow the swelling in her brain to subside so that the organ could heal. Alexander knew, though, that there would be permanent damage. The extent of it was unclear at the moment. He and her mother would know more once the girl woke up.

"Dr. Alexander?"

The doctor turned around at the sound of his name to see a man and a woman standing there. From the badges that were pinned to their jackets, the doctor deduced that they were the detectives assigned to this case.

"I'm him," Alexander replied, depositing the patient's chart in the slot by her bed.

"Detective Joe Holden and this is Emily Broker from CSI," the man introduced, "We were hoping to collect evidence in the Creedy case and-"

Unfortunately for Dr. Alexander, this was not his first rape and assault case. He had had many in his thirteen-year career. He waved them into the room and said, "Ms. Creedy is stable in a medically-induced coma. It's safe for you to examine her for evidence. Nurse Grey has taken a sexual assault kit already."

"We won't be long, Doctor," CSI Broker said, placing her kit on a nearby chair so that she could extract a pair of latex gloves. Alexander grimaced.

"I'm going to inform the girl's mother of her condition," he said, "I'll send Nurse Grey in with the kit."

With that, he left the room, sending in his nurse as promised, and then walking out into the family waiting area. The girl's mother, Irene Creedy, was trying to hold it all together. Alexander could see it in the stiff way that she sat and her stoic expressed. The girl's father sat three seats away holding the hand of his younger new wife. He looked to be falling apart, his face showing off regret, remorse, and guilt.

The father was the one to break when Alexander gave them the news, letting out anguished howls that his new wife could not quell. The mother sat deathly still, even as tears dripped down her cheeks.

"She moved away to start over," the mother whispered.

Dr. Alexander said nothing, but in his mind, he couldn't help but think that Veronica Creedy should have stayed away from her little hometown of Cranwall.

TBC

AN: I apologize for the delay here. Writers block got the best of me. In addition to that, I'm finding less and less time to write these days. Thank you all for sticking with me and this story.