He knew something was bothering her.
He could feel it, the weight of it pulling at him. She pretended to go about life as though everything were okay, but he knew better. He knew her. It was a front, a disguise if you will. He watched her everyday, eyes always on her even when she wasn't aware. He knew it bordered on obsession, but so be it. He had been away from her before and he was loathe to do it again. And so he watched. And he saw. He watched her prance along in her shiny new clothes, firmly pressed and not a stitch out of place. He watched her smile and chat with the citizens of Alexandria as if it were just another day in Hell, no big deal. He even watched the others as they cast looks in her direction, most unassuming and nice, a few wary. But underneath that flawless little act she portrayed he saw the real her, the real Carol.
See, there was one important thing she had failed remember. He knew her. And not just how many people knew each other. No, he knew the task woman behind the mask. He knew because he'd been there. Sometimes he still was there.
The signs were there if you knew what to look for. It was in the way she interacted with the children, her expression torn between her hurt and her love for them. He had seen the glimpse back at the city when they had been alone together. She was hurting, but she was powering through it.
He loved that about her more than anything else in this shitty world.
It had taken him some time to come to terms with his feelings for her. He had always known that they'd been deeper for her than for anybody else. Since forever. Given his background he hasn't been surrounded by it enough to spot it so easily, but now he knew. And he wanted to tell her...had been internally battling it for some time, but the timing never seemed to be right. He wasn't scared - Dixon's weren't afraid of anything, even emotions, but he wanted it to be perfect when he said it.
She deserved that after everything. Hell, she deserved so much more than three simple words, but they were all he had to offer. And to him they weren't simple. To him they were everything. Just like Carol.
He wasn't sure why it bothered him today of all days, but it did. Maybe it was the way she had glided past him this morning with simply a smile, the absence of her chiding remarks duly noted. Maybe it was the way she seemed to go out of her way to avoid everyone today instead of cheerfully offering a fake hello. He noticed these kinds of things. He noticed because none of them were her. Not the real her anyway.
And he missed her.
God, he missed her and he never thought he'd say that about anyone. There was a disconnect hovering over everything that she did. Try as he might to catch a glimpse of the woman he knew, he couldn't. But that didn't stop him. Because just as Dixon's were known of being unafraid, they were just as known to be stubborn.
And today?
Well, today Daryl was inclined to get her back. Because it was high time his Carol made an appearance because this new one was really starting to chap his ass.
So he did what any self-respecting Dixon would do when trying to get their prey - he cornered her.
The fact that she was in the supply room was irrelevant.
She was so attuned to her task that she never heard him enter, but he hadn't wanted to announce his presence. He had a feeling she was avoiding him...And that just wouldn't do.
He leaned against the door frame and simply watched her. His eyes feasted on her lips as she muttered things to herself and he found himself not for the first time wanting to kiss her.
She moved silently among the shelves, occasionally tucking a curling strand of hair behind her ear or rubbing at the back of her neck with one hand. He found himself so in tune to her that he almost forgot his whole reason for seeking her out.
Using the toe of his boot, he nudged the door so that it quickly swung shut.
She whirled, knife already in hand, task already forgotten because of a possible threat. He might have been intimidated if he wasn't so damn impressed. Nothing made him harder than watching her kick ass...even if at the moment it might very well be his ass.
"Daryl," she slowly lowered her knife and pinned him with a stare. "What are you doing here?"
And life chose just that moment to rid him of what brain he was gifted with as the sarcasm flowed through him. Dixon's never had been known for intelligence when it came to women. "Used to be a time you didn't mind me payin' you a visit. Guess things are different now that you're drinking tea and knittin' sweaters," he replied.
He wanted to shove his own boot in his mouth.
As expected, that comment didn't go down to well as her eyes sparked at him. And damn if that spark didn't set him on fire.
"Is there something that you needed, Daryl?" She turned back to her task and he felt the brush-off like a slap to the face.
No way in hell were things going down like that.
Without so much as a thought to anything but her, he stalked across the narrow room and moved between her and the shelves. "You must have forgotten who you're talking to. You're not getting rid of me that easily," he said.
Her expression faltered for a fraction of an instant, but it was enough to let him know that she was affected. "I've got work to do." She gestured to the shelves behind him.
He leaned against them and crossed his arms as he regarded her. "It can wait."
She shook her head. "No. No, it can't actually. There's so much that still needs to be done. So if there's no problem with the others then I really should get back to it."
"I have a problem."
"What?" She asked.
"My problem is that you're holdin' all this shit inside of you and it's festering. No one else might not see it, but I see it."
"Daryl-"
He held up a hand. "So the way I see it is if you wanna finish doing whatever the hell you're doing then you better get to talkin'." There, he'd said it. Now he just needed her to get everything off her chest and everything could go back to the way that it should be between them.
She swallowed noticeably. "I'm not sure I understand what you're talking about." She moved past him and picked up where she had left off.
Moving in close behind her, he was able to breathe in her scent and he filled his lungs with it. "Don't hide from me," he whispered.
She visibly stiffened. He watched her shoulders sag a little. "I can't do this." Gone was the defiance of mere moments ago and in its place was a speckle of the woman he loved.
"So what's that mean? You givin' up? Gonna bail out on us? On me?" He felt the hurt clean through to his bones and he didn't like it.
"What does it matter anymore? It's just another day, right? This is just another town and this is just another day we have to survive."
"It don't have to be like that. I get what you're doing...why you put on these fancy clothes that ain't you. You're trying to hide beneath this mask," he said.
She was quiet for so long that he wondered if he had gone too far or said the wrong thing. Then she bowed her head and his fingers itched to touch her. "Do you?" She whispered.
He found himself nodding even though she couldn't see. He took a step closer, his body brushing against her own. He drew comfort from the contact. "I know that this mask you put on everyday...it's not you. Strolling through the town like June Cleaver might fool some of these other folks, but it don't fool me."
"Why does it matter to you so much, Daryl? Answer me that."
He hesitated, unsure for a brief moment how to put his thoughts into words. "Because it's you," he stated simply, "YOU matter to me. There's been plenty of times I've been hurtin' and you've taken care of me." He placed his hand on her shoulder, her warmth seeping into him. "Let someone else take care of you for a change. Let ME take care of you." There, he'd said it. No turning back now even if he had wanted to.
Silence passed between them and then he felt her hand fall upon his own. She turned, never losing contact with his hand. The impact of her fiercely blue eyes nearly did him in. "What are you saying?" She asked softly.
"Do I have to spell it out for you, woman?" He growled half-heartedly.
Her lips twitched a fraction and she nodded, "Yes."
In some of the movies he'd glimpsed as a kid, the man always had this big speech prepared to profess his undying love to a woman, but that wasn't his style. He thought it useless to say all that poetry when the heart of the matter was that it really only boiled down to those three words. "I love you," he finally muttered.
She appeared taken aback at first, but she quickly recovered as she studied him intently.
"You love me?" She mumbled.
"Need me to repeat it?"
Her lips twitched again. "Wow," she murmured. "All this time..."
He frowned, not sure that he understood. "All this time for what?"
Ignoring his question she asked, "Why today?"
Well that was simple enough to answer he supposed. He shrugged. "Why not?"
"Why not, indeed," she murmured thoughtfully. "I guess I just expected something different when I pictured it."
The fact that she admitted to picturing it made his heart skip a beat. "I guess this wasn't very romantic..." He scratched at his chin in thought as he glanced around. Now she did smile and the sight of it nearly blew him away. He hadn't realized how much he had missed her genuine smile
"Oh, I wouldn't go that far. seeing as how the two of us are now stuck inside of this room alone together...well I'd say that it's pretty romantic," she explained.
"Stuck in this room?"
She nodded. "Yep. The door locks when you close it. That's why I had it propped open." She grinned at him, her eyes twinkling.
Well, he could think of a lot worse situations for them to be in. At least they wouldn't be bothered for a while. Maybe he could even come up with some ideas on how to pass the time... She pursed her lips, drawing his focus to the plump flesh as her teeth scraped across the skin. "Pretty romantic, screw around?"
He felt the smile creep upon him moments before he pinned her against the wall, bodies flush together. "Thought you'd never ask."