A/N – A little one shot rewriting the events of Triggerfinger between Daryl and Carol at Daryl's campsite. Not sure if this has been done before, I'm behind in my reading of new stuff and it's been awhile since I've had a chance to do a re-read of some of the older Caryl fics. Hope you like!
Disclaimer – I own nothing. I did try to keep the characters in character in this one, but may have strayed slightly for my own purposes. I did try to use Daryl's rant as word for word as I could, but can't promise it's exact. It's hard to type and listen to youtube at the same time.
"Wha' are ya doin'?," Daryl snapped angrily, moving into his campsite where Carol was standing.
"Keeping an eye on you…," Carol said, her voice meek but resolute.
"Ain't you a peach," he snorted derisively.
"I'm not gonna let you pull away… you've earned your place."
"If you spent half yer time minding yer daughter's business instead of sticking yer nose in everybody else's, she'd still be alive," he muttered irately.
"Go ahead," Carol said softly, her tone resigned.
"Go ahead and what?," Daryl hissed. He stepped back, rocking on his heels before stepping forward again menacingly, flinging his arm up as he spoke, and gesturing in the direction of the farmhouse in the distance. "Man, just go, I don't want you here."
Daryl paused, taking a breath and then continued. He stepped forward, stuck his finger up in her face and said coldly, "you're a real piece of work, lady."
She didn't respond, he waited for her to, but she said nothing, just standing there, drinking in his anger and his rage.
He shook his head angrily, unable to keep still as he started to speak again, his proximity close, threatening, but she didn't seem to be afraid. "What are ya gonna make this about my daddy or some crap like that? You don't know jack. Yer afraid. Yer afraid cause yer all alone, you got no husband, no daughter, ya don't know what to do with yerself. You ain't my problem! Sophia wasn't mine!" He punctuated his last three words by stepping up full into her face and saying the words loudly before rocking back away from her.
When she didn't respond, still watching him, her expression blank but her eyes shining with a kindness that infuriated him, he stepped forward again, full into her space, and screamed, "All ya had to do was keep an eye on her!"
His movement was quick, startling, and for a moment Carol was afraid – of his words or of his movement, she didn't know. At any rate, she raised her chin like she'd been struck, as he stepped back. Their eyes met as she surveyed him evenly, as he watched her with the same uneasy intensity.
She felt the sob in the back of her throat as she swallowed thickly and then without even contemplating the action or the repercussions, her hand and her arm moved of their own accord as she slapped him, the slap of her palm across his face ringing loud into the quiet night surrounding them.
Daryl's hand went to his face where his cheek stung from the sharpness and surprise of her slap, his eyes wide for a moment as he watched her.
The hand that slapped him pointed a finger at him as she spoke, "Fuck you, Daryl Dixon, fuck… you." Her eyes were hard and sharp, throwing daggers at him as she said the words and she seethed – he could feel the anger coming off her like a steam. She seemed to shake her head to herself and then she spun away from him to turn, to storm off, and then he was reaching out without thinking, grabbing for her arm as she spun and halting her in her tracks.
Carol froze at the contact, at his hand calloused and warm on her skin. She turned her head, lifted her eyes to meet his. His lower lip had dropped, like he had something to say but the words just weren't there yet.
He had cut her… his words had cut deeper than any hit that Ed had ever dealt. The truth in his words stung more than anything she'd ever felt. She ripped her arm away from his grasp, gritted her teeth and felt the tears brimming her eyes. The threatening tears made her angrier… she'd cried for Sophia, she'd cried enough for two lifetimes, and she was done crying.
"You said she'd be fine," she said softly, her tone tinged with anger. "You said she'd be fine - 'It's a waste of time all this hopin' and prayin', we're gonna locate that little girl, and she's gonna be jus' fine.'," she said pausing before continuing, and stepping into his space, "that's what you said. You wanted me to believe. Good Lord, Daryl, I didn't want to believe, but you wanted me to believe so I did."
Daryl swallowed, his eyes cloaked as he watched her, as she fidgeted angrily in front of him, mere inches from where he stood.
She watched him struggle to stay expressionless, as the hurt played across his face like a movie. She had struck him… how had that even happened? Where had that even come from? She closed her eyes, felt her shoulders quake slightly and then drop as she opened her eyes again. Her face had transformed into one full of regret and sadness as the anger dissipated. His eyes were still on hers, wary as he watched, his body poised as if he might run if she even so much as twitched.
"You almost died… looking for Sophia. You almost died. And she was in that barn, the whole time. Do you know how hard it is for me to know that?," Carol said softly, her eyes searching his. Daryl exhaled slowly, his eyes still narrowed.
A small thin smile crossed Carol's lips, a look of pure melancholy, and she glanced away from Daryl, staring at the ground as she spoke, "I should have kept a better eye on her." Her words were quiet, practically under her breath, and weighted with regret.
"No," Daryl said, breaking the silence between them and she raised her face and her eyes to his. He shook his head. "Ya did all you could. You loved her."
He frowned, "I'm jus' mad… that's all." It was the only explanation he could give and somehow it was more than enough.
Carol inhaled deeply, blinking away the tears unshed from her eyes, and she nodded. "Me too, Daryl, me too."