This is going to be a short little fic. A few chapters at most. Just an idea I had that wouldn't get out of my head. I hope some of you enjoy it, and feel free to let me know what you think.
Thirty-three year old Daryl Dixon languidly made his way to his old, beat up truck one humid Friday evening. He'd just clocked out of work and saying he was exhausted would have been the understatement of the century. He felt like death run over this evening. Nothing more than the walking damn dead himself. He ached from his neck all the way down to the tips of his toes.
Daryl's job was high in physical demand. He worked for a construction company, primarily dealing with roofing. That meant most of his days were spent working outside in the sweltering Georgia heat, lugging ninety-pound shingles up and down a ladder, repeatedly.
Not that he minded. He was happy having a job where he had to be hands on. Daryl had always preferred manual labor. He'd never been good at intellectual types of things. As a kid he'd always been forced to attend summer school in order to advance to the next grade. Even then, he felt like most teachers just bumped him on up after stealing a few weeks of his summer in order to not have to deal with a Dixon boy a second year in a row. When he got in high school and he was old enough to make the choice for himself, he'd simply stopped going altogether. Opting to get a job and fend for himself rather than be stuck in the hell hole of an existence that had been his home life.
But after almost twenty-years of jobs that primarily consisted of bending and lifting and hammering and ripping and carrying, all of that had started to take it's toll on his body. He was bone-weary and he felt every bit of his age, if not five or ten years older some days. His hands were calloused and his body scarred from various work related incidents over the years.
And some old scars that were not so work related. Scars he preferred to forget.
He wouldn't complain, though. Even if he was worn out, he was grateful for this job. It paid decent. Not great, but decent enough it allowed him to put a down payment on that small three-bedroom house he had on Maple Street. Decent enough it allowed him to put food on the table and pay his bills each month. Decent enough that it provided him with health insurance.
Decent enough that his wife always told him how proud she was of him for having it. How proud she was of the level of work he did and how much of himself he put into his job. Mostly, how proud she was of him for how hard he worked and how much he sacrificed for her, for them.
Honestly, her being proud of him was worth more to him than any paycheck ever would be. Than any house they could live in. Than any amount of health insurance anyone could offer.
She meant more to him than anything in this world.
He'd do anything for her. To know she was safe, to see her smile, to feel her arms wrapped around him at night.
Carol was his world. Plain and simple. And she had been for the past eleven years. She would be for the rest of his life, and beyond.
Having this job, busting his ass day in and day out, it was worth it all. Because it allowed him to give her all those things that seemed trivial in comparison to her overall importance to him.
But those seemingly trivial things, they were things she deserved. The house they lived in, the Jeep she drove, the food in their refrigerator that she used to make him supper ever night, even the health insurance that made sure she was able to stay as healthy as can be, they wouldn't be possible without this job.
So he'd keep doing what he was doing, without complaint or hesitation, to make sure she got the life she deserved.
And truthfully, he wished he was able to give her more. So damn much more.
Even if she was part of the reason he was feeling a little more exhausted than normal today.
***Around 3:00 a.m., Friday morning***
Daryl was sleeping soundly, resting on his side, one arm underneath his pillow and the other covering his face. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a loud retching noise startled him awake. He shook his head and popped up in bed, blinkling rapidly in an attempt to adjust his eyes to the darkness. He scanned them to the spot on the bed next to him where his wife was laying when he'd fallen asleep. Now she was no longer there. The covers ruffled back, an indention still in her pillow, sheets still warm. His eyes flicked around the room and he noticed a faint light emitting from underneath the closed bathroom door. He propped himself up on his elbows. "Carol," He called out, his voice still husky with sleep."Ya alright?"
She retched once more and a loud splash echoed the room as she emptied more contents from her gut into the toilet. She moaned as an unpleasant pain coiled in her belly and bile threatened to rise in her throat again. Reaching for a hand towel, she wiped her mouth before answering her husband. "In the bathroom," She cried out, eyes watering. It was an unfortunate reaction that seemed to occur any time she vomited. She wiped at the corner of her damp eyes and slowly peered up as the sound of the bathroom creaking open caught her attention.
Daryl stood in front of her, only clad in a black pair of boxer briefs. A pair he'd just pulled on. He'd fallen asleep in the nude, they both had after a passionate moment between them only three or four hours before. She'd been just fine then. Just as eager and lively as he, and after they were done she'd cuddled against his chest, tracing sensual, slow circles just below his navel as he drifted off to dreamland with her in his arms. Now she was huddle next to the toilet wearing her pink, terrycloth rob, looking ever bit as miserable as she did pitiful. "What's wrong, sweetheart?" He mumbled, rubbing at his eyes with his palms, his feet drifting him closer into her space. He moved behind her, taking a seat on the edge of their white, porcelain tub. He began to massage the back of her neck.
She groaned as her stomach lurched. "Woke up feeling sick to my stomach. Tried to fight it off as long as I could and go back to sleep. Didn't work," She mumbled.
He continued rubbing the back of her neck tenderly. He stifled a yawn and blinked hard, fighting with himself not to pass out and fall backwards into the tub. "Prolly got what Carl and Judith had. Figured one of us would."
Carl and Judith belonged to their friends, Rick and Lori. Rick was a sheriff and Lori was a stay at home mom. Carl was twelve years old and Judith was barely two.
Their friends had asked Carol if they could watch the kids while they went to some sort of charity event that the Sheriff's Department Rick worked at was holding. Carol readily agreed without even consulting Daryl on the matter. She adored Carl and Judith. Hell, she loved children in general. But those two kids had a special place in her heart. Truthfully, Daryl had grown quite fond of them himself, even if he wouldn't readily admit it.
Problem was, two hours into babysitting both kids started puking their guts out. Lori and Rick high-tailed it home, but the damage had been done by the time they got there. Carol had been working clean-up duty, and despite using so much Lysol their home smelled lemony fresh for days, Daryl had a feeling the bug those kids had was gonna hit their home sooner or later. That feeling only intensified when Rick and Lori came down with the same symptoms over the next two days.
"You're probably right," she weakly agreed. Her stomach knotted again and she lunged herself forward, wrapping her arms tightly around the base of the toilet it as she heaved.
"Sorry you feel bad. Wish it was me," he told her softly, moving his hand down to her back and circling it over the outside of her robe. And he meant what he said. Seeing her in pain, seeing her suffer in any way, it ripped at his heart. He'd rather be the one hugging the toilet right now. "Can I do anything for ya?"
She grabbed the hand towel and wiped her mouth again before looking up at him. "Cup of water and mouth wash?" She asked with weary eyes.
"Mhm. On it," he replied, moving to stand. He bent down and kissed the top of her head. "Then I'm gonna start a hot shower and get you some Pepto." He paused before turning to walk off, realizing he wasn't the one in charge of purchases like that and finding himself unsure of whether or not they actually had any on hand. "Uhhh...we got some of that, don't we?"
She forced a faint smile at her husband. "In the medicine cabinet. Grab the tablets, please."
He nodded. "Be right back."
()()()
After washing her mouth out, downing the tablets, and soaking in a hot shower, Carol was finally comfortable enough to crawl back in bed and drift off to sleep. Daryl cradled her next to him, ready and willing to do anything she wanted or needed him to if she woke up sick again. He found he wasn't able to fall back asleep himself, and he'd been right next to her when she woke up again at 6, repeating the same process she'd gone through at 3.
When it was over she actually tried to get dressed and go to work.
"Nu uh," Daryl insisted firmly as he gently pushed her back into bed. "You're calling in. Ya ain't going today."
"I'll be fine," she tried to argue, her voice not conveying the enthusiasm she was trying to pull off. "It was just a little bug. I'm over it."
"No you ain't. Ya were literally just hurling again. Ya can't work like that. For fuck's sake, ya work with food. You'll have the whole town sick." He chuckled.
She flitted her eyes down to their silky, queen comforter. "It might not be a bug..."
"Nah?" He bit back a laugh at her seemingly feeble attempt to talk him into thinking it was a good idea for her to go work. "What the hell ya think it is then?"
Her blue eyes met his, an almost terrified sort of hope hidden behind them. She gnawed nervously at her bottom lip. "It could be.."
"Carol..." He cut her off, swiping a hand over his face when he realized how harsh his tone had been. "Don't. Please?" His voice dipped below a whisper and he could feel it threatening to crack. "Please...don't." He moved to sit beside her on the bed and pulled her into a tight embrace, her head fell on his shoulder and he rested his cheek on top of her head. "I love ya."
"Love you, too," She choked out, and he could tell she was fighting back tears. "Thank you for taking care of me while I'm all pukey and gross."
"Always gonna take care of ya." He kissed the top of her head again. "Ya need to rest today. Get over this bug quick as ya can. Stay home. Watch some of those Lifetime movies ya love. Sleep. Just focus on feeling better. I'll see if Maggie' can stop by and check on ya around lunch."
"I know you will and you're right," she reluctantly agreed, tightening her grip around him. "But I'll be fine on my own. Maggie doesn't have to stop by."
"Yeah? Well, she ain't gonna mind and I'd feel better if she did." He let go of her reached over her to where her night stand was. She always kept a note pad there. Jotting down thing's she'd think of they needed for the house. Planning short vacations. Getting the grocery list ready. Whatever she was thinking at the moment, she jotted it down so she wouldn't let it slip her mind. He retrieved her note pad and pen and handed them to her. "I'm gonna get ready for work. Make me a list of anything ya think you'll need. I'll stop by the store and pick it up on my way home." He scratched at his head, not exactly sure what sort of things she might need. She was usually the one that took care of him while he was sick. "Just, uh, whatever ya think ya might be able to eat, stuff like that."
()()()
Daryl had called her on his lunch break to check up on her, and he had to admit, the overall tone in her voice sounded much more chipper than it had this morning. She told him she hadn't had another episode since he left this morning and that she'd been taking it easy today, knowing he'd scold her if she said anything less.
Carol wasn't the type to stay holed up in bed all day. Even sick. Cleaning, cooking, reading, knitting, making stained-glass, tending to her plants, she was the kinda person who always had to be doing something.
But she promised him on the phone that today was one of the rare occasions she'd actually taken a day off and done nothing at all. Other than focus on feeling better, just like he'd wanted her to do. Maggie had still been at their place when he called and he could hear her yelling in the background to corroborate Carol's story. He'd chuckled at that and let Carol go so he could finish his lunch.
He pulled the door of his old Ford open and climbed in the drive's seat of his truck, eager to get home. He wanted to crawl in bed next to Carol and relax some himself. Three hours of sleep just wasn't sufficient enough to get through a work day like his.
He moved the key into the ignition, having every intention of driving himself home as soon as he slipped the truck into drive. "Shit," he mumbled to himself before moving the truck out of park. He'd almost forgotten that list he'd told Carol to make him before he left for work. Good thing he wound up remembering. He slipped his left hand off of the steering wheel and into the pocket of his tan cargo pants to retrieve the folded slip of paper. He slowly unfolded the now wrinkled slip of paper and scanned his eyes over the few items she'd jotted down in her impeccable cursive manuscript that put his chicken scratch to shame. He began to quietly read them off to himself, one by one. "Ginger Ale or Sprite, chicken broth, chicken noodle or veggie soup, bananas, garlic," he paused as he reached the last item and his own voice was troubled when he finally read the words aloud, "EPT?"
He stared blankly at the last word for a moment before crumbling the piece of paper into a ball and throwing it at the other end of the truck in a fit of anger. Both hands gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white and he let his head fall on the horn. A loud honk filled the parking lot, but the sound fell deaf on Daryl's ears. He was too preoccupied by the sharp pain in his gut. It was like a hot knife was being jabbed into him, twisted and turned.
Why the hell had she put that on there?
She knew better.
He'd known that was what she was thinking earlier. When she tried to suggest it could be something else. And he'd told her not to. Almost begged her to stop. But she'd fucking put it on there anyway.
It wasn't that he was angry at her for thinking it. It wasn't that he didn't want a baby. It was the simple fact that they both knew how that test was gonna turn out and he knew that the result was going to crush her. It always did. A little more each time.
See, to understand what he was feeling right now you'd have to understand their story. And the start of that story began a little over 11 ears ago.
He'd met Carol when he was only 22 years old. He was in bad way back then. In a terrible place emotionally and financially.
Merle, his older brother, the only person he'd had in his life back then, he'd just been thrown into prison. Armed robbery and attempted murder were the charges. Except Merle didn't do the crime. And sure, most criminals probably claimed their innocence from the rooftops, probably swore up and down by it, but Merle truthfully hadn't committed the actual crime. That had been the guy he was running with. Merle hadn't even been in the actual bank where the robbery and shooting occurred. Just waiting out by the curb in the get-away car.
The guy promised Merle ten percent of whatever he stole and Merle had agreed, thinking it was easy cash. An in and out job. He hadn't known the dumbass he was with was gonna shoot somebody. Let alone put a bullet into a single mama of five kids.
Hell, Merle hadn't even thought they'd get caught. That was half of his brother's problem, dumbass never thought about nothing but himself.
In the eyes of the law, it didn't matter that Merle didn't pull the trigger or commit the actual robbery, he'd been charged as an accessory and he'd had the books thrown at him after refusing to snitch on his partner in crime.
And Merle's idiotic decision had a ripple effect on Daryl's overall life. Not only had he lost his brother, the only person he'd ever really had that he could somewhat depend on, he also ended up losing his job because of it and his place to stay.
They'd been living in a small town and news traveled fast through the grape vine. Once people found out what Merle had been a part of, no one wanted Daryl around. No one would give him a chance, most people wouldn't even look at him twice.
He'd skipped town after that with what little bit of money he had left to his name, no real destination in mind. He'd driven until hunger took over, pulling off to the side when he found some roach motel out in the sticks with a diner next to it. He booked a room at the motel, feeling drained and deciding he was done traveling for the day. A room that was so cheap it almost scared him to stay in it overnight. After, he'd walked next door to that small diner to grab a bite to eat.
****Roughly11 years ago****
Daryl walked into the diner, eyes trained on the tile floor as he slipped himself into a pale, yellow booth. He grabbed a menu that was sitting in a spice rack at the end of the booth and started thumbing though it.
"Hi there. What can I get you to drink?" A sweet female voice asked.
"Coffee," he muttered, not bothering to look away from his menu and up towards the pleasant sounding voice that had spoken to him.
The waitress jotted the coffee down and hovered next to him. "Anything else? Do you know what you want yet? If you aren't sure, I'd recommend our Pattie melt."
"Yeah. Whatever," he muttered, still not bothering to look up at her.
The waitress arched a brow, pausing her hand, the tip of her pen centimeters above the pad. "So...you do want a Pattie melt?"
"Said whatever," he growled. "Pattie melt's fine. Just take my order and leave me be." He heard her clear her throat and after a moment, he assumed she was jotting his order down, she'd told him, "Be right back with that, sir."
He'd pushed the menu to the side and folded his arms on top of the table, resting his head atop them. His eyes darted around the diner, noticing it was completely empty other than him and whoever the hell was working here. That was just fine and dandy, because the mood he was in wasn't one where he was up for hearing much noise and racket from other people. He just wanted to get his belly full and go pass the fuck out in that shitty motel. Maybe he'd find a liquor store when he left here and help himself along with that passing out part, sleep hadn't been coming easy for him these days.
Ten minutes later the waitress had returned. "Order's ready," she informed him. First slipping his cup of coffee in front of him and then the plate with his Pattie melt. He hadn't asked for fries, but the plate was slap loaded down with them.
Daryl still hadn't bothered looking at the woman, only catching a glimpse of the pale blue outfit she had on out of his peripherals. He didn't bother to tell her thank you and he'd made up his mind to not lift his head and dig in until she was gone. He wasn't sure why he was being such a dick to her, she hadn't done anything to him, but people had treated him like shit ever since things went down with Merle, and he was over being nice. Especially to someone he was likely to never see again.
He was surprised when, instead of leaving, he caught a glimpse of her slipping into the seat in front of him.
"I don't know you and I don't what's wrong," she said softly, reaching out and placing a comforting hand over his forearm. "But whatever it is, it'll get better. It won't always be like this." She pulled her arm away once she felt him tense and placed her hands in her lap.
"The hell do you know about it," he snapped, popping his head up, finally seeing this woman for the first time. This woman with ivory skin, long, auburn curls that were pulled back into a ponytail, and shimmering blue eyes that bore an unfamiliar kindness in them. He was struck by how beautiful she was and he regretted his tone now that he was actually looking at her. Acknowledging her presence as a person. She'd done nothing to him. She hadn't deserved to be talked to the way he had spoken to her. But she hadn't flinched, she hadn't backed away, she sat there in front of him, staring deep into his eyes, and he almost thought that her gaze would be able to penetrate all the way to his soul.
"I know because I've been there," she told him tenderly. "I once reached a point in my life when I lost everything. EVERYTHING," she repeated for emphasis. "I had nothing. I thought I was nothing. I was angry and sad and I had no where to turn. No one to run to. No money. No job. No...," She trailed off and her voice cracked. She paused to steady it. "That part doesn't matter. What does matter is that it got better. You just...you gotta have hope. If you don't, what are you really living for?"
"Don't know that I am," he muttered, propping his elbows up and resting his head in his hands. "Hey, uh, sorry I yelled at ya and acted like a dick. Been a shitty few weeks for me. But that ain't your fault."
"No...it's not," she agreed. "But you're human. We all make mistakes."
"Yeah..sometimes ones we can't come back from," he muttered ruefully, feeling anger at Merle for his poor choices. For ruining his life. For ruining Daryl's and leaving him alone.
"You can always come back. Whatever you did...you can always come back from it. Make it right."
"What about when it's something someone else did?"
She pursed her lips. "Then that's not on you," she simply said. "Take it from someone who spent far too long blaming herself for someone else's actions and issues, what other people do isn't on you." She glanced up at the clock and then around the diner, which was still empty. "I get off in fifteen minutes, but it doesn't look like anyone's coming in between now and then. Would you like me to keep you company while you eat? Sometimes, well, sometimes I think you just need somebody to talk to. Somebody to listen. Even if you don't wanna say anything...sometimes it's just nice to have someone there."
Daryl picked up a French Fry and fiddled it between his fingers. "You ain't gonna get in trouble, are you?"
She shook her head. "It'll be fine. The manager's a friend of mine. Besides, customer satisfaction is our top priority," she grinned.
Her smile was radiant, intoxicating even, and it caused a reaction in him he hadn't experienced in far too long. His stomach flip flopped and the corner of his lip twitched into a half grin.
"I'm Carol, by the way," she extender her hand to him. "Figure if I'm gonna keep sitting with you, you may as well know my name."
He gave her a firm shake and nodded. "Daryl."
"That's cute," she grinned again.
His brows crinkled. "What? My name?"
She shook her head and giggled. "No, our names. They kinda rhyme."
"Guess they do." He let out a low chuckle and it surprised him so much that he flinched a bit at the sound of his own laugh filling his ears. He couldn't remember how long it had been since he'd heard his own laugh.
***End of Flashback***