Timeline: Post 'The Same Boat'
Pairing: Carol/Daryl with peripheral Carol/Tobin
The Glass Heart
As the gates close behind them and they tumble from the car, the Alexandrians gather round.
Carol glances at the anxious faces and spots Tobin in the crowd. Their eyes meet. Tobin smiles shyly at her. She looks away.
Daryl gently nudges her shoulder. Wordlessly, she follows him.
As Rick launches into a victory speech to rally the troops, Carol ambles towards the house, side-by-side with Daryl. She walks close to him, their fingers accidentally brush and she pulls her hand away. If he notices, he doesn't say anything. She's all tension and exhaustion. All she really wants is a hot shower and her bed.
Carol lies awake.
She killed 6 more people today.
24 in total.
She breathes in sharply. Rubs her temple, trying to exorcise this thought.
This isn't who she's supposed to be. She's not supposed to have a steel trigger finger and a glass heart. This was never meant to be her life.
But it is.
Carol gets out of bed and throws on some clothes. She decides to go for a walk, to take the edge off.
The moon is high. The air is humid. Tobin sits on his porch, waiting. Hoping she'll pass-by on her nightly jaunt.
He sees her silhouette, hears the soft tread of her footsteps and the haze of cigarette smoke that heralds her coming.
He smiles; third time this week.
"This is becoming a habit," he greets.
Carol raises her eyebrow in amusement and her lip quirks as she draws near.
"People will start to talk," he jokes.
Carol stops in front of him. She crosses her ankles and takes a drag of her cigarette.
His smile falters and his expression grows solemn. "I'm glad you made it back safe," he says.
Carol sits beside him. She wants that feeling back, that reassurance he gave her - that normalcy... like the apocalypse never happened, like she hadn't killed 24 people.
She took comfort in him, in his words. She'd hoped to rekindle that feeling tonight... but as Tobin leans closer to her, his expression hopeful... Carol knows it's temporary. A fleeting reprise.
She can hide with him, it's so easy.
Too easy.
She steps back, her expression clouded.
He's surprised. "You okay?"
She sucks in a breath. No. She's not. She's not okay and she doesn't know this man and she wants to stop remembering the faces of the dead and how many people she's responsible for killing and to block-out the pain that's become a part of her everyday life and how did she end-up like this and why won't it stop?
Tobin waits. Expectantly.
Carol scowls. What is she doing?
He stands and takes a step towards her, carefully, trying not to make her skittish.
She wants to turn away. Wants to hurry off. But he's looking at her with such reverence.
Daryl sits in the dark. On the third step of the staircase. He waits for her. It worries him when he doesn't know where she is. She's taken to wandering at night. He doesn't want to push her, he'd always thought she'd come to him on her own. But now he can't count on her equanimity... She's lost her way, when he wasn't paying attention.
Carol slips stealthily through the door and closes it. She moves towards the stairs and starts when she sees him.
She halts. Guiltily.
They stare at each other in silence.
He's nervous. He hasn't felt uneasy around her for a long time - since the prison. But since they've reached Alexandria she's forged into someone he doesn't recognise. This unstable version of Carol makes him anxious.
"Where you been?" he asks gently.
"Around," she deflects.
"You been restless lately," he notes.
She shrugs nonchalantly but the haunted look is still in her eyes.
He wants to hug her, wants to shake her, wants to kiss her.
Instead he licks his lips nervously. Keeping his eyes trained on her face, trying not to cringe at that god-awful floral sweater.
"We've finally got time to kill - I guess things are catching up with me."
He nods. Then offers, "Just make sure they don't overtake ya."
Carol averts her eyes and looks uncomfortable.
Yeah, that's what he thought.
"This is where we start over," he states.
Carol meets his gaze. There is something undefinable in her eyes. Like she thinks it's too late, like redemption has passed her by. It cuts him to see her so uncertain. Out of them all - she is the most deserving of absolution.
She doesn't reply.
That makes up his mind. It's time to push. "We gonna talk about it?" Daryl asks. "Whatever you're holding onto, whatever you're not saying."
She shrugs. "Nothing to say."
He levels her gaze. Then stands. He moves towards her, his self-consciousness fleeing.
Carol bites her bottom lip. She doesn't want to be called out or confronted or to have to deal with any real emotion. She wants to skim over it - like she's been doing with Tobin.
Carol looks distant. Instinctively Daryl reaches out and takes hold of her wrist. He tugs her forward, Carol doesn't resist. He wraps his arms around her and pulls her close. She stiffens in his arms.
"I ain't gonna let you pull away," he whispers.
Carol winds her arms around him. Grateful, suddenly, to have someone who gets her.
Daryl's chest lightens with relief. He slides a hand through her hair and nestles his chin into her shoulder. Then breathes her in. Her hair, her skin… is so soft and delicate… so… Carol.
She pulls away.
Daryl keeps a grip of her hand.
"I'm right here," he says, then hesitates. "Why'd you turn to him?"
Carol shrugs. "It's easy with him."
Daryl tries not to look stung. Her tone is unapologetic but her expression is remorseful.
Carol meets his gaze and is immediately repentant. "I can be whatever I want to be with him. He doesn't know me."
Daryl squeezes her hand. "You don't have to stay in disguise."
Carol sighs. "I'm looking out for us."
He almost smiles. "And who's lookin' out for you?"
She darts him a sharp look.
He holds her scorn.
She steps around him. Daryl releases her hand and she starts up the stairs.
He watches her back and feels panic rise in his chest.
"Carol?" he calls.
She stops.
They're both aware he never says her name. Both aware of its importance.
Her heart pounds and the blood rushes in her ears. She's waited so long for him…
Daryl bounds up the steps and closes the distance between them. He touches her shoulder and she turns to face him.
"Let me," he murmurs.
Carol's breath hitches and her eyes widen. She shrinks from him, feeling undeserving.
"Let me," he repeats, his voice soft.
He reaches out and strokes her cheek. She gazes up at him and the air thins. Slowly Daryl bends his head and presses his mouth to hers. The kiss is gentle, chaste. He draws back slowly and gazes into her eyes, checking she's okay.
He brushes her bottom lip with his thumb, then bows his head again and captures her mouth with his.
Carol leans into his touch. He slips an arm around her waist and pulls her flush against him. She sighs against his lips. Takes comfort in his heat, in his good intentions, in his loyalty.
Daryl's fingers steal into her hair and his lips press urgently against hers. Carol's lips part and she lets him in. His mouth is soft and hot. She makes a soft moan, deep in the back of her throat and feels him melt against her, feels him shiver.
They draw apart and press their foreheads together.
He tries to steady his breathing. Tries to keep control. "I know you," he whispers.
She smiles sadly. "That's the problem."
Carol jerks away from him and moves up the stairs towards her room. She doesn't look back.
Daryl stays motionless on the stairs, watching her disappear.