Response to the Tumblr prompt "Raindrops on Hair"
Title taken from "The Sound of Silence" by Simon & Garfunkel.
Spoilers up to Season 8B (includes Season 8 MSF)
After the fever burned bright in his cheeks —
After the sickly sweat yellowed and grayed his clothes —
After the breath escaped his lungs one last time —
Carl was laid to rest in Hilltop's soil.
Rick dug the grave, and Michonne fashioned the cross, but it was Judith who placed the worn and weathered sheriff's hat on the wooden post, memorializing the spot the only way one can in the apocalypse.
When the first raindrops started to fall, and the light drizzle turned into a heavier pour, Daryl carried Judith inside the nearest trailer, using his vest as a makeshift umbrella. He didn't look back at the father and mother, soaked to the bone, grieving at their son's graveside.
Once inside the trailer, Daryl shook off the excess water and parked Judith on the kitchenette's countertop. "Let's find you a towel to dry off with, squirt."
A hand holding out a floral-patterned cloth appeared in his vision. He traced that hand up its arm and to Carol's wan but smiling face. "Here you go."
With a mumbled thanks, Daryl took the towel and vigorously rubbed it over Judith's dusty curls. "Sorry, thought this was empty," he muttered.
"No need to be sorry," Carol said. "It's not even officially mine, either, but I just had to…," and then she shrugged, because there was no point in giving an answer he already knew.
Daryl hummed (because he did know) and tried to tame Judith's frizzy hair. He wasn't doing a very good job, but Judith still looked at him like he lassoed the moon and pulled it straight to her, so he gave the faintest smile back. "How about we take a nap, huh?"
Judith nodded and raised her arms. Daryl obliged, and took her to the back of the trailer, setting her down on the small bed. He only left the bedroom when Judith had snuggled into the covers, turned on her side, and began to breathe soft and even.
Carol was sitting on the bench at the table, staring out the window into the gray, wet haze. Like a snapshot from his memory, her image stuttered his feet to a stop, which only began moving again when she glanced his way. To complete the picture, he perched on the countertop he sat Judith on earlier and just…watched her.
They were quiet, and Daryl found himself drifting back through the days, months, years, to the last time the two of them were mourning in a trailer after burying a child. But this time, Carol spoke.
"I'm sorry I wasn't there."
Daryl doesn't know what exactly she's sorry for—not being there for Carl? For Glenn and Abraham? For him?—but he lets it go. "You did what you could. Life's just shit, sometimes."
"Yeah," Carol sighed. "It really is."
He thought they would lapse back into their comfortable silence, but Carol proved him wrong. "No, not everything in life is just shit."
"Oh yeah?" Daryl scoffed. "Name one thing."
A heartbeat, and then Carol turned, locking him in her blue gaze, her answer deafening.
Daryl dropped his head, chuckling a bit, because he should've known, she'd said just as much before, but then his chuckling turned to hiccups and his nose began to burn and his vision blurred and—
Cool, soft hands cupped the back of his neck, and his forehead met hers. "I'm here," Carol whispered. Her eyes were closed, but her eyelashes were wet. "I'm here now."
Choking on a sob, Daryl wrapped his arms around her shoulders and clung to her like a drowning man would a life preserver.
She saved his life before; she can do it again.