You're My Home

I didn't go back to our room. I didn't know where to go. My pace got faster and faster until before I knew it - I was running. I had to get out of there. I had to escape the feelings, the situation.

I don't remember the journey to Carol's door, don't remember how I got past the Kingdom's guards. I didn't even realize where my feet had taken me until I was standing on her doorstep, fists clenched at my sides, breathing too fast.

The weight of everything pressed down on my chest was suffocating me. I tried to steady myself, to swallow down the trembling in my throat, trying to figure out if I should even knock - when the door swung open.

I collapsed into her without a word.

Carol caught me without hesitation, her arms wrapping around me as a sob tore from my throat. I didn't try to hold it back this time. I couldn't.

I gripped onto her like she was the only solid thing left, my fingers clutching the fabric of her sleeve as the tears came hard and fast. She didn't say anything, didn't ask what happened. She just held me, steady and warm, her hand smoothing over my hair as I shattered.

"I've got you," she murmured, calm and even, though I knew she could feel how badly I was shaking.

I gasped against her shoulder, my whole body trembling with the weight of everything I hadn't let myself feel.

I don't know how long we stood there, but eventually, Carol guided me inside, her arm still around me as she led me to a small couch. I sunk into it, my breath still ragged, my hands pressing against my face.

She crouched in front of me, silent for a moment, then her voice came soft. "Is he okay?"

I nodded my head, unable to get the words out just yet.

Daryl wasn't okay. Not by a long shot. But he was alive, and that's what she was asking. I can only imagine where her mind went when she first saw the state of me.

She didn't push. She just waited, patient, steady.

And when I finally lifted my head, eyes red and aching, she was still there. Waiting.

I swallowed hard, my throat dry and tight as I tried to form the words. I wanted to explain, tell her everything that had happened, but the lump in my throat was too big. It hurt too much to even speak.

"Things are fucked," I finally managed, my voice cracking as the tears started again. "So much has happened."

Carol sat down next to me, her presence a steady force that made me feel just a little less alone. She didn't speak immediately, just let me gather my thoughts, but I could feel her eyes on me, the understanding in them.

I took a shuddering breath "Negan... He tortured Daryl," I wiped my face, but it didn't help. "And it's like... like he's completely broken him. I'm trying... but its like he doesn't want me anywhere near him."

Carol closed her eyes for a moment, probably picturing what the Saviors had done to her best friend. She looked like she was about to cry now, too, as my sobs grew harder, breaking free from somewhere deep inside me. I tried to control it, to pull myself together, but I felt like I was falling apart.

Carol's hand settled on my arm, gentle but firm. "Athena. He adores you. Whatever he's been through... it won't take him from you. He won't let it."

I nodded weakly, but the words felt empty. I wanted to believe her. I wanted to think that the distance between us was just a phase, a product of everything he'd been through. But it felt different now. Like something had broken between us, something that wasn't so easily fixed.

"He can't stand me touching him," I admitted, my voice tiny. "I don't know how to fix it. I think I'm really losing him."

She didn't say anything for a moment. Then she spoke quietly, her voice steady with that knowing strength she carried so well. "You're not losing him. He's losing himself. I saw it today, could tell he wasn't right. But the way he still looks at you. You're still everything."

"Then why?" My voice held frustration now. "Why can't I get anywhere near him? He'll hug you but I can't even touch him."

Understanding dawned on Carol. "Athena," she half-smirked. "They were the worst two Daryl hugs I've ever had in my life."

I blinked at her. "What?"

"Today." She scoffed. "That man wanted to fling me across the yard as soon as I touched him."

I didn't say anything. I was confused.

"He was like a goddamn ironing board."

I let out a small laugh through my tears.

"He usually gives the best hugs... but those... one out of ten..."

I knew she was trying to make me laugh, and it did help a little. But the weight in my chest wasn't settling.

"Sorry." I mumbled.

"For what?"

"Turning up at your house in the middle of the night... having a meltdown."

"Please..." Carol scoffed. "I don't sleep."

"How did you know I was at the door?"

"You tripped my wire."

"Oh." That probably shouldn't even have been funny, but I laughed, that delirious, desperate laughter that comes from nowhere when your emotions are ravaging you.

"Remember your wedding gift?" Carol smiled at me, pushing hair gently from my face. "You two will always find your way back to each other. Not just if you're apart physically, but whatever's going on. You two are meant to be together, and you'll figure it out."

I looked at her then, really looked, and for the first time since leaving Shiva's room, I felt a small glimmer of something other than pain - something that resembled hope. Maybe it wasn't all lost. Maybe there was still a way through this. We just needed to figure it out.

"I just - he means everything to me. "I sighed, my tears finally slowing. "I'm so scared of losing him."

Carol squeezed my arm. "You won't."

"I asked if it was me - and he didn't answer..."

Carol looked curious, but she didn't falter. "Yeah, well... we both know conversation isn't always his strong suit."

I nodded, finally allowing my shoulders to relax just a fraction, the weight of everything pressing on me a little less intense.

Carol stood slowly, still watching me with that patient, understanding gaze. "I love the man, but he's not always easy. Too many years learning how to shut down... You broke through that once. You'll do it again."

I managed a weak smile, but it didn't reach my eyes.

"Yeah," I whispered.

Carol was silent for a moment. Then she spoke with feigned annoyance. "So he lied to me earlier?"

I nodded.

I'd lied too, I still wasn't telling her everything - I hadn't told her about those Negan had killed, that I'd been taken too, how bad things really were for us all... I just couldn't right now.

"I'm gonna kick his little redneck ass."

I huffed a small laugh.

"And then..." She folded her arms. "We're going to end Negan and his assholes."

There she was. Carol the badass. Reporting for duty.

I rubbed my face. "I should get back. He'll worry."

Carol raised an eyebrow. "This is Daryl you're talking about. Tracker extraordinaire. He'll be here any minute... I'm gonna make us all some tea."

She left me alone with my thoughts, the room heavy with the lingering ache of everything that had happened to the group - to Daryl, to me. It was all so unfair. There was always someone waiting to rip everything from us in this world.

I startled at a frantic hammer at the door.

"Told ya." Carol said smugly as she appeared from the kitchen, moving toward the door.

"She here!?" I heard him rasp breathily before it was even fully open. "Ath... she here!?"

He sounded desperate, frightened.

He didn't give Carol time to answer. He pushed past her, his chest heaving. His presence felt like a storm - heavy, forceful, and full of everything it had seemed like he'd lost.

His eyes were wild, scanning the room before they locked onto me. "Ath." his voice cracked, desperate, raw, like he had to get something out now before he broke apart.

Carol gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze before wordlessly slipping out of the room, probably going to hide in the kitchen.

We stared at each other for a moment, so many unsaid things lingering in our eyes.

"Dar-"

Before I could finish, he was moving toward me - it knocked the rest of his name right off my tongue.

"It ain't nothin' like what yur thinkin," he said, voice tight. His eyes were filled with something deep and painful. "Yur everythin'. Ya always will be."

I swallowed, trying to steady myself, "You didn't answer when I asked if it was me. I-" My voice caught, too thick with emotion to go on.

"Ath," he pleaded, my name breaking as he edged closer. "I wasn't... It ain't like that at all."

He stopped in front of me. His hands hovered at his sides, trembling. I could see the strain in his face, the hurt, the exhaustion. He looked... shattered.

"M'sorry," he breathed out. "I love ya. Ain't never gonna not want ya. Jus'... I don't know how to..." He growled in anger. "Fuck."

Tears welled in my eyes again. I could hear the unsaid, the weight of the trauma he was carrying.

I reached out, my fingers just brushing his arm, feeling the tremor in his skin. "I love you," I whispered. "I love you."

His jaw clenched, and I saw fear flash in his eyes before he closed them tightly, like he was fighting against some invisible force pulling him under. "Yur everythin', Ath. Fuck, yur everythin' to me." His voice cracked again, the words coming out almost broken, like they were clawing their way out of him.

I couldn't speak.

"I dunno how to fix this shit," he murmured, the words slipping out like they weren't meant to be said out loud. "M'sorry. Jus'... God, I need ya."

The tears started falling. "I need you..." I breathed. "You're my home."

His eyes snapped open, dark and stormy, locking onto mine with an intensity that stole the breath from my lungs. Before I could react, his hands were in my hair, fingers tangling in the strands like he was afraid to let go. His grip was firm but trembling as he yanked me toward him, and then his lips crashed against mine.

It wasn't just a kiss - it was a collision, wild and consuming, like he was trying to burn away the space that had kept us apart. His desperation bled into me, seeping into my bones with every frantic press of his mouth. He kissed me like he was starving for something only I could give, his breath labored, uneven. His hands slid down, skimming the curve of my back before gripping my waist, his fingers pressing into my skin almost painfully as if to anchor himself.

I felt the way he shook, the way his body tensed, caught between restraint and the wild, unspoken need his body and his brain fought over. He crushed me against him, his heartbeat thundering against mine. The world blurred around us, fading into nothing. There was only him. Only this. And neither of us could afford to let go.

I gasped for air when he finally tore his mouth away, but he didn't go far - he pressed his nose to mine, his lips parted just enough for me to taste the tremor of his breath. His hands framed my face, rough palms trembling as his thumbs brushed away the tears I hadn't even realized had spilled.

His voice came in a ragged whisper, hoarse, broken. "M'sorry. M'so fuckin' sorry."

The words hit me like a punch to the chest - raw, unguarded, full of a guilt so heavy it made my legs shake. His grip tightened, like he thought I might slip away, like he was terrified this moment, this last chance, would vanish if he didn't hold onto it with everything he had.

"Jus' - please don't give up on us." He breathed.

I could feel his plea in my bones, the depth of his words. The man who never begged, never asked for anything, was laying himself bare at my feet. He was breaking in front of me, unravelling in a way he'd fought to hide. And yet, here he was, offering me every fractured piece.

All the fear, all the doubt that had been gnawing at me vanished, washed away by the stark, undeniable truth: My husband needed me as much as I needed him - needed this. Us.

My throat tightened, but I forced the words out, my voice hardly more than a whisper. "I'm not going anywhere." My fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, clinging to him as my heart pounded against my ribs. "I'm not."

His eyes burned into mine, searching, longing, like he wanted to believe me but couldn't quite let himself. Not yet. But then his grip on me tightened even more - almost frantic - as if he were willing himself to hold on. "I'll tell ya all of it." His voice was strained, thick with the unspoken. "So ya understand. Ya'll see."

And then his lips were on mine again, softer this time. Slower. A whisper of a kiss, deep and aching, like he was memorizing the way I tasted, the way I felt beneath his hands. I melted into him, threading my fingers through his hair as he pulled me impossibly closer, as if he needed me to fill every hollow space inside him.

We finally broke apart, our breaths still tangled, bodies still pressed close like neither of us was ready to let go. Daryl's hands lingered on my waist, my fingers still curled in his hair, both of us caught in the gravity of what we thought we'd lost.

Until, a throat cleared.

Carol stood there, eyebrows raised, lips twitching in amusement despite the undeniable awkwardness of the moment. In her hands was a tray, slightly wobbly from how long she must've been standing there.

"Uh..." She glanced between us, eyes warm but unmistakably teasing. "So... tea?"

Daryl let out a low snort, running a hand down his face, his ears burning red. I bit my lip, trying and failing to smother a laugh.

Carol, to her credit, didn't say anything else - didn't comment on how pink Daryl's cheeks had turned or how breathless I still was. Instead, she just shook her head with a knowing smirk and stepped in, setting the tray down with exaggerated care.

"I think we have stuff to talk about," she mused, her tone light, but her eyes fierce.

Daryl muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like "Shit..." and crossed his arms, shifting uncomfortably. I reached for his hand, squeezing lightly, feeling the tension in his fingers as he exhaled.

Carol caught the motion and softened. "Hey." Her voice was quieter now, more serious. "I get it. You were trying to protect me and all. But I need to hear it. Tell me what I've missed."

Daryl swallowed hard, eyes flickering to me before he gave the smallest of nods.

Carol smiled - gentle, understanding. "Good." Then she turned to the tea, utterly casual. "Now, start at the beginning."

We told her everything.

Abraham, Hershel, Spencer, Olivia. Daryl being shot by Dwight. Negan taking me. Daryl offering himself to Negan in my place. How grossly outnumbered we were by the Saviors who were threatening to swallow us whole. That they had Eugene. How we needed to fight them but didn't know how. How terrified Rick was...

Daryl didn't share details of his time at the Sanctuary. But I did, briefly. Carol's eyes kept flicking to Daryl as I spoke of being locked in the cell, not understanding why they weren't doing more to me.

We could both feel the fury that burned under his skin.

When we were done. Carol's resolve was simple. "Leave Ezekiel to me. We're going to war and we need the Kingdom."

Daryl dropped his head. I could almost hear his thoughts. Carol wanted to escape all this. Unable to deal with what she'd become. Now we were pulling her back in. He probably felt guilty, but I didn't.

We all wanted to escape this. None of us would have chosen the bloodshed that lay before us, the casualties of battle that we wouldn't be able to mitigate. We were all scared. But this was it. We were going to fight. We had to.

The tea had long since gone cold, but none of us cared.

I glanced at Daryl, his fingers absently drumming against his knee, his posture still tense but lighter somehow, like unloading all of it and giving himself to me had taken some of the burden off his shoulders.

"We should probably head back," I said, stifling a yawn. "Get some rest before we start the trip back to Hilltop."

Carol leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, giving me a look that told me she wasn't having it. "It's late. Just stay here."

Daryl started to shake his head, but she cut him off before he could argue.

"I mean it," she insisted. "I have an extra room, and we ought to talk more in the morning. Figure this shit out."

Daryl huffed through his nose but didn't argue. That was as close to a yes as she was going to get.

"Alright," I conceded, standing and stretching, my body exhausted. "Gotta pee."

Carol nodded, satisfied, and I slipped into the small bathroom. The cottage wasn't much, but it was cozy, and the simple act of splashing cold water on my face felt like washing away the weight of the day.

When I stepped back out, rubbing a towel over my face, Carol was waiting.

Before I could say anything, she reached out, quick and subtle, slipping something into my pocket with a smirk.

I frowned, pulling it out, and my eyes widened. A small, tattered strip of condoms.

I let out a startled laugh, shaking my head as I looked up at her, bemused. "Seriously?"

Carol grinned, utterly unrepentant. "Whoever lived here before believed in safe sex. Thought I'd pass along the favor..." She leaned in closer, whispering, "Doesn't look like he's scared of you touching him anymore."

I wasn't sure that was true. It wouldn't be that simple, but I snorted, shaking my head as I stuffed them back in my pocket. "Thanks."

~

Carol led us down the narrow hall, pushing open the door to a small bedroom. The moonlight filtered through the lace curtains, casting silver shadows over the simple wooden furniture.

"Get some rest," she said, lingering in the doorway for a second. Her gaze flicked between us, measuring, before she offered a small, knowing smile and left us alone.

The door clicked shut behind her, and suddenly, the silence felt heavy.

I looked at Daryl. He was standing near the bed, shifting his weight from foot to foot, his arms held like he didn't know what to do with them. Our kiss had been incredible, broken down barriers, but it hadn't fixed everything. How could it? I felt the war inside of him even as he'd poured himself into me - this was going to take work.

I inched toward him, gently taking his hand.

His rough fingers wrapped around mine, warm despite the hesitance in his touch. He lifted my hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to my knuckles, his breath fanning over my skin. But he didn't look at me. Didn't say a word.

I swallowed, my heart squeezing at the quiet struggle written all over him. Slowly, I reached up, brushing a few strands of hair from his face, letting my fingertips linger against his cheek. His jaw tensed beneath my touch, but he didn't pull away.

"Ready to talk?" I asked softly.

He breathed deeply, then finally, reluctantly, he nodded.

Without another word, we settled onto the bed, lying side by side on top of the sheets. Still fully clothed. The space between us wasn't much - just a breath, really - but it felt big. Betraying the distance we hadn't closed.

I turned my head, watching him in the dim light. His eyes were fixed on the ceiling, his fingers twitching slightly against his stomach

"Ya were there first," he almost whispered.

I knew he meant the Sanctuary. I waited.

"I know ya said they didn't..." he trailed off. "But ya were there, same place, prob'ly same cell..." His face looked pained. "I ain't got no right to be so messed up by it... Yur not."

I offered him a small smile, turning to face him. "Wasn't my first time in a cell." I joked quietly.

He huffed an almost imperceptible laugh. "Ain't the same."

I shifted, pressing up on one elbow so I could see him better as his gaze stayed fixed on the ceiling. "I'm not saying it was fun, it was dark, I was scared, but I wasn't there long, it wasn't... they didn't hurt me... not like..."

I trailed off. I didn't need to say it. The fading bruises and healing cuts that still adorned his body said it for me.

"Feel weak." He admitted.

I shook my head. "You're not. Daryl, they locked me in a room and forgot about me, but you - they beat you, tried to break you."

He was silent for a while, before finally, a whisper. "Think they did."

I reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. "Maybe for a while... But not forever."

He looked at me for a moment. His mind working.

"Tell me what they did to you."  I asked hesitantly.

His fingers twitched against his stomach, his breaths coming slow and measured, like he was trying to keep something caged inside.

I didn't push. Didn't prod. I just lay back down and let the silence sit, knowing he'd speak when he was ready.

And then - so quietly I almost missed it - he said, "Wasn't just the cell."

I turned my head fully toward him, watching his profile in the moonlight. His face was blank, but his jaw was tight, his free hand clenched into a loose fist where it rested against his stomach.

"Didn't let me sleep." he continued, voice hoarse. "Didn't let me eat, cept after a while." He exhaled, and I could see it - him forcing the memories back down even as he spoke them aloud. "Fuckin' dog food 'n' bread" He looked ashamed. "Ate it. Had to."

I fought to hold back the emotion building inside of me.

"Dragged me out just to throw me down, have their fun 'til I passed out."

I swallowed against the lump in my throat. He was saying it so flatly, so matter-of-fact, like he didn't want me to react. It was so hard not to.

"After a while they gave me a damn mop. Made me clean." He hesitated, then shifted, like the weight of what he was about to say was pressing him down. "Had this song. Blasted it at my door. Over n' over. All day, all night. Couldn't think. Couldn't sleep." He finally turned his head toward me, and the look in his eyes made my chest ache. "Took me to Alexandria, made me help 'em take stuff. Made me go in our bedroom."

I couldn't stop a tear escaping. I squeezed his hand. Two pumps:

I'm here.

I love ya.

"Gave me a picture" His breath hitched, barely audible. His fist clenched tighter. "Hershel... after."

A chill ran through me.

He swallowed hard, blinking up at the ceiling like it might erase the image burned into his mind. "Fucked me up" His voice was tight now, strained. "Did everythin' to make me..." He trailed off, exhaling shakily. "Kneel for 'em."

My stomach twisted.

"I did." His voice was so low now I almost couldn't hear it. "Once."

I could feel the shame in his confession. How angry he was at himself.

"It doesn't matter." I whispered.

"Does."

I thought for a moment, trying to figure out the best thing to say.

"Do you wanna tell me about it?"

He bit his lip. "That last day. Was moppin' in the main room. He came in, had Carl with 'im. Everyone knelt, and I didn't even realise that I had, too."

I didn't know what to say. There was nothing... Nothing that could erase what they'd done to him.

So, instead, I just waited. I waited for the next thing - the thing that was really holding him back. The thing he hadn't said yet.

"I saw ya."

My brow furrowed. I saw his eyes well up for the first time since we'd been reunited. This was it. This is what had broken him. Not the beatings, not the torture tactics, this - what he was about to tell me.

"Others too. Hershel, Abraham... but not like..." He let out a breath, swiping away one lone tear he couldn't hold back anymore. "Every night. I saw ya. Ya told me everythin' I was already thinkin' 'bout myself."

My tears started falling fast, and I wiped at them, trying to stay quiet.

"Told me ya wished ya hadn't met me. I was a piece of shit..."

"Baby..." I choked out. "It wasn't me. I'd never think those things."

He looked straight at me now, abandoning fighting the emotion escaping from his eyes. He let it fall, let it release. "I can't make it go away."

"Feeling like those things are true?"

He nodded, and his voice cracked as he finally said it.

"I ain't good enough. I don't deserve ya."

I squeezed my eyes shut. He'd worked so hard to stop giving those feelings power in the past, not to let them pull him under - but now, they had him again. Claws deeper than ever before.

This was so much darker than I'd even realized. "You are. You do." I choked. "Is that why you can't let me touch you?"

He nodded. Wiping pointlessly at the wetness on his face. "When ya touch me... S'like I'm takin' something from ya I ain't earned."

He broke apart completely as he finished the sentence, letting go of my fingers and hiding his face in his hands. Heaving, debilitating sobs racked his body. "M'sorry." He repeated over and over each time he managed to catch his breath.

I sobbed, too. Watching him. Needing to touch him but knowing it could make it worse. How the fuck do you comfort someone who has such a visceral reaction to your simple touch? How do I take care of my husband when I can't even reach for him?

"I don't know what to do." I forced out.

He reluctantly removed his hands from his face, still unable to calm himself. "Ath... I don't know, either."

We stayed silent for a while, until, eventually he pulled himself up to sit against the headboard. Both of us felt utterly helpless, but our tears were finally becoming less forceful. I followed his lead, shifting until I sat, too.

He took my hand, squeezing it tight despite everything he'd just said. He looked right at me, his blue eyes fiery, determined.

"I love ya."

His whole body was stiff, like he was trying to fight something back - like even speaking the words had scraped something raw inside him. I could feel the tension radiating off him, see the way his hand clenched and unclenched against the sheets.

"I love you," I breathed back. "So much."

Without warning, he leaned in, his movements hesitant, reluctant - his body was trying to stop him. But he didn't let it.

His lips met mine, tentative and searching, trembling against my own.

It wasn't like the desperate, frantic kiss from earlier - the one fuelled by pure need, by the fear of losing each other. This time was hesitant, nervous, but also like if he didn't do it now, he'd never be able to.

His hand came up, fingers curling around my jaw, his thumb tracing lightly over my cheekbone. I could feel how tense he was, how much effort it took for him to let himself do this - to let himself feel.

My hand pressed against his chest as I kissed him back, feeling the rapid thrum of his heartbeat beneath my palm. He recoiled slightly at the pressure of my touch, but he fought it. Didn't stop me.

I wanted to tell him I was here, that he wasn't alone, that nothing they did to him had changed who he was. But I knew words wouldn't reach him right now.

So I kept kissing him instead. Slowly. Gently. Letting him take what he needed, giving him whatever strength I could as our tears slowly stopped mingling.

His forehead rested against mine after, his breath warm against my lips. His eyes stayed closed, like he was afraid to open them.

"I ain't-" His voice caught, and he shook his head slightly. "Ain't losin' ya."

I swallowed hard, my fingers sliding up into his hair.

"You're not," I whispered. "Ever."

A/N: Hope you enjoyed! ❤️