"What's this?" Carol pulled a small blue tin out of the rucksack Daryl had brought back from the latest run.
"Oh, yeah. That," he said, looking flustered. "Uh, it's weed. Really potent stuff, from the smell of it. Thought it might be… I dunno. Useful."
"Like medicine, you mean?" Carol thought about it for a few moments. "I suppose it could be, but there's not very much of it, is there? And somehow I can't quite see Hershel embracing 'The Green Lady' as part of his pharmacy, in any case."
"Listen to you. 'Green Lady'," Daryl sneered. "You ever even smoke dope in your life?"
"I'll have you know, Mr. Dixon," Carol said archly, "I was a bit of a party girl when I was in college, so yes, I have smoked a joint or two."
He shook his head at her, imagining the sort of wild time she might have gotten up to in her day. Probably meant she had three beers instead of two, and a hit off a joint, and ended up puking in the bushes someplace. Stories he could tell would peel paint by comparison. Not that he felt a need to deflate her by dragging them out.
"Let's just stash it someplace for now. Maybe we'll think of a good use for it." Carol tucked the tin away in the far corner of a top shelf, making sure he saw where she was putting it. Only made sense for more than just her to know about it.
A couple of weeks later they were moving things around in the pantry to make room for more supplies, and Daryl noticed that the tin was missing. He meant to ask her about it, but then something else came up and it completely slipped his mind. Not that it was something that anyone could OD on, and they'd made sure it was out of reach of the kids, but still - it made him uneasy.
The next night at dinner Carol cut in front of him in the chow line and pitched her voice low so only he could hear. "Meet me in the library after you eat." He scarfed down whatever was on his plate without really tasting it - it was pretty much the same shit they'd been eating all week, wasn't just because he was intrigued to find out what she had up her sleeve.
She was waiting for him with a lantern, and he followed her silently back into the stacks to a door he'd always assumed was a closet, but when she opened it, it revealed a short hallway with a metal ladder at the end. She led the way, pushing open a trapdoor at the top, and he found himself on the roof overlooking the ruined end of the prison.
Carol turned back to close the trap. "Make yourself comfortable," she said, and he looked around to find a pair of blankets spread out at his feet.
"You find this yourself?" he asked, mystified.
"Mm-hm," she said, settling herself cross-legged on one blanket. "Some of the kids were playing hide-and-go-seek a couple of days ago and one of them hid in the hall. I happened to be close by when he was 'found' and had to stop them all from going exploring. Checked it out myself and found the stairs up here. I've been up a couple of times. Thought you might like it, too. It's a good place to get away from people."
"So what are we doin' up here?" he asked, taking a seat on the adjoining blanket. He didn't mind being alone with her, but it was sort of unsettling being out of earshot of everyone else. He couldn't even think of another time inside the prison when there hadn't been someone in the next room, or right around the corner.
"You'll see," she said, with that Mona Lisa smile of hers. She leaned over and flicked the lantern off, and the darkness fell around them like a cloak. "Lie back and close your eyes, let them adjust."
Every cell of him resisted. In his head he knew this was about the safest he'd been in months, but it was incredibly hard to let go of the constant wariness he carried with him everywhere.
"Trust me, Daryl. Nothing bad is going to happen just because you let yourself relax for a few minutes." Her voice was soothing, and he stretched out and closed his eyes like she'd asked.
After a minute she said, "Okay, now you can open them."
He looked straight up, and the universe blossomed in front of his eyes.
"Jesus Christ," he breathed. The sky was an unending tapestry of stars, spilling across the bowl of the horizon from edge to edge.
"Dark of the moon," Carol said, sounding pleased with herself. "With as clear as the day was, and no moon to interfere, I knew it was going to be gorgeous tonight."
They lay like that, side by side, watching the constellations wheel overhead, and Daryl couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so free and unburdened.
"Got another surprise, if you like. Give me your lighter." She laid her hand on his wrist so he'd know where she was, and after a moment's hesitation he passed his Zippo to her. "Close your eyes so the flare doesn't blind you."
He heard the snap and scratch of the lighter, and behind his eyelids caught the flash of the flame for just a second before the unmistakeable scent of pot smoke filled his nostrils. He sat up hurriedly, just as Carol took a second hit off the slender joint and held it out to him.
"What the fuck, Carol?" he complained, irritated. "Thought we agreed we'd figure out somethin' useful to do with that?"
"Seriously, Daryl? There's such a small amount, and the longer it sits around, the weaker it becomes, right? So I commandeered it. I figured the one way it would be useful is if somebody got some fun out of it. Your call whether you partake, but I'm going to enjoy myself." Carol put the joint back to her lips and sucked in a tiny bit of smoke.
"Hold on, there, party girl," Daryl said, plucking it from her fingers. "This stuff's way stronger than what you used to get back in the day." He held it for a moment, debating with himself, and finally toked on it deeply, feeling the smoke roll through him. Yep. Definitely some fine bud. He lay back on the blanket, the joint burning between his fingers. "You know this is a bad idea, right? No one even knows we're up here, and if there's a problem…"
"Oh, shut up, Eeyore," Carol grumbled, and then giggled. "Eeeeeeyoooore. Grumpy Gus. Whoa, I think I'm stoned."
"Told you," Daryl agreed, taking another lazy hit. "So why you callin' me 'Eeyore'?"
"'Cause it's a beautiful night, and I feel so good right now, and all you can think of is what can go wrong."
"One of us has to act rational," he said dryly. "Apparently that ain't gonna be you, Miss Lightweight. You even figured out how you're plannin' on makin' it back down that ladder?"
"Nope," Carol said. "I'm staying out here all night. Wrap myself up in my blanket, watch the stars, get a good night's sleep. You're more 'n welcome to keep me company, 's long as you stop being Mister Mopey Morose and try to enjoy yourself a bit."
He had to admit the prospect was tempting. He was more relaxed than he could recall being for a good long time, and it wasn't entirely due to the smoke, although that was a sizable part of it. He hit the joint again, admiring how evenly the tight roll burned. "Where'd you learn to roll a joint like this, anyway?"
"Hm?" Carol asked, dreamily. "Oh. I told you. Or maybe I only thought I told you. I never smoked all that much but I was always good at rolling. Used to sit around when people were smoking and just keep cranking them out. It was funny. Little ol' me, the joint master." She stretched out a hand and found Daryl's arm, creeping her fingers along toward his wrist, trying to take the joint back. "You gonna share that, Eeyore?"
"Don't you think you've had enough for tonight? 'Specially if you want to stay awake and watch the stars some more." Daryl was feeling no pain, himself, but it still made him itchy, for both of them to be high as a couple of kites.
"Oh, you're probably right. Never pegged you for the schoolmarm type, Dixon," Carol said, pouting. "Talk to me, then. Help me stay awake."
"Okay, I guess." He scratched his head and waited in vain for inspiration. What he really wanted to do was lean over and kiss her, but he knew that was the weed talking. "Look up there." He started to point and realized she couldn't see him well enough for that to work, so he slid sideways until his shoulder pressed against hers.
Carol shifted closer, like a sleepy puppy seeking the warmth of its littermates. "What're we looking at, Daryl?"
"The stars. Ain't that what this little field trip's about? Here, gimme your hand." He leaned his head close to hers and sighted along her arm, extending her index finger until it was pointed in the right direction. "See those three?" he asked, moving her finger to trace between them. "That's the Summer Triangle. Vega is one of 'em, and I forget the names of the other two." He drew her hand down and to the right of the triangle of stars and centered it over another constellation. "That's Hercules. You know about him, right? how he had jobs he had to do to make up for killin' his family? Takin' out a bunch of monsters, mostly. Woulda been a handy guy to have around now, huh?"
He looked down at Carol, just able to make out her features by starlight, but instead of having her eyes tilted up to the stars, she was looking back at him. His stomach did a flip and he pulled away from her, shoving himself back to his own blanket. "Don't remember any of the others. Should see if there's a book about that stuff, if you're thinkin' about comin' back up here again."
"This is nice, Daryl," Carol said softly. "I like having you show me things." She rolled onto her side, bringing her face close to him, pulling the edge of her blanket up around her and snuggling up against his arm. "I like being out here with just you."
Daryl's heart thumped unsteadily in his chest. "What are you doin'?"
"I think I'm trying to get you to kiss me."
"You're high," he grumbled, trying his best not to get lost in the smell of her, only inches away.
"I'll admit I have a nice buzz on, but that doesn't mean I don't know what I'm doing," Carol purred. "Just kiss me. One time. It won't kill you."
"Not this time, maybe, but…"
"Who says I plan on kissing you more than just the once?" she teased. "Maybe I won't like it well enough for a repeat."
"Stop," he muttered. "That ain't what I meant." There was a battle inside him, between the part of him that wanted to push her away and go back inside the prison, and the part that wanted to wrap her in his arms and kiss her until they both ran out of breath. "It ain't safe."
"Safe is overrated, Daryl," she said drowsily. "But if I scare you too much, I won't push." She settled herself a little more firmly against his arm, her body loose and warm by his side. He tried not to enjoy the sensation of having her pressed into him like that, but he knew he was losing the fight.
"Ah, hell," Daryl said, and leaned over her, bringing his hand up to her cheek to guide himself in to her mouth. She murmured at his touch, her breath milky-sweet, and he realized - she'd gone to sleep on him. So secure that she could just drift off without a thought. He wished he could ever be that trusting. Nice that she felt that way about him.
"G'night, party girl," he said, sighing, and kissed her hair as he lay down beside her, while above them the stars spun in a timeless dance.