Part 1: Carol
Carol couldn't sleep. It wasn't the bed, which had recently been fitted with clean, cotton sheets. It wasn't the threat of danger, either. A few months ago, the Alliance had completed their construction of impenetrable walls, designed to keep out walkers and other unsavory characters.
There hadn't been an incident in five weeks, and that had been caused by an incompetent rookie. Life was good. Wasn't it?
She turned to her fiance, who lay close to her, sleeping peacefully. He was snoring, as he usually did, yet it wasn't too loud. Not loud enough to keep her awake.
Carol's mind wandered back to when she and Ezekiel had first gotten engaged. After the war against the Saviors, Carol had returned to the Kingdom. For the first few months, life had been slow, focused only on rebuilding camps and forming allegiances. The Kingdom, Oceanside, the Hilltop, Alexandria and the Sanctuary joined forces to become the Alliance, sharing resources and working together to survive against the common enemy: walkers.
Ezekiel had continued to lead the Kingdom's faction, which had since been renamed Alliance One (A1). He'd frequently relied on Carol for her guidance and support, with her becoming his de facto deputy. When they weren't making decisions, the two shared custody of the now fifteen-year-old Henry. It was during dinner that the teenager had dared to ask the unsaid.
"Why aren't you married?"
While Ezekiel had laughed nervously, Carol had gulped down her wine, almost choking in the process.
"It is the twenty-first century, son. Carol and I need not wed!"
"Yeah, but you aren't even together." Henry had sighed, this time looking at his Mom for answers.
The wine had made Carol light-headed. She paused, swallowing. She could feel two pairs of eyes burning into her. She'd known Ezekiel wanted to be with her, he'd wanted it since the day she'd come into his life. But Carol had been hesitant. She'd used the war as an excuse, and when it was over she'd insisted they focus on Henry. But here he was, asking the question she feared most of all. She no longer had an excuse, not one she felt like admitting anyway.
"We...we wanted to focus on you," Carol had stammered, the alcohol and anxiety sticking the words to her mouth.
"Well, I want you guys to get married." Henry had insisted as he left the table. "Everyone in A1 does."
Ezekiel had come to her room that night, and Carol, finally out of excuses, had let him. She'd convinced herself that Henry was right, that they should be together. After all, she did find Ezekiel attractive, the sex was good and they got on well. That was love, wasn't it?
Returning to the present, Carol gently pulled the duvet off her, dressed slowly and quietly left the room.
Part 2: Daryl
Daryl couldn't sleep either. How could he, with the wedding tomorrow?
He knew he was being stupid. He'd been stupid for a long time. Carol had asked him to give her away. She didn't know that he'd been forced to give her away the day their engagement was announced.
He'd sat on the stairs outside Carol and Ezekiel's house, nursing a bottle of whiskey, and once that was drunk he moved onto his cigarettes. He was on his third when he heard footsteps behind him.
He didn't need to turn around to know whose footsteps they were. He'd follow the sound of them anywhere. Daryl reached out his hand and offered her the cigarette. Carol took it and dropped it on the floor, crushing it with her boot. It's like she knows it's m'third, Daryl thought.
"Those things'll kill you." Carol cautioned.
She sat on the deck, right beside him. He could smell her shampoo: mint and something else, something sweet, comforting.
Daryl couldn't look at her. "Why ain't y'in bed?"
"Why aren't you?" Carol stopped looking at the stars and turned to look at him. He could sense her movement. He didn't dare meet her gaze.
Yer gettin' married. Ter someone tha' ain't me.
Daryl didn't respond. He couldn't.
"We don't sleep." Carol sighed. "Ezekiel, on the other hand, sleeps like a baby."
At the mention of his name, Daryl ground his teeth together.
"It's annoying." Carol continued.
Does 'e annoy her? Daryl could hold his tongue no longer. "Yeah, does 'e snore fancy too?"
He snuck a glance at her then. She was smiling, a wide, beautiful smile that showed off the dimples in her cheeks.
"Stop it." She joked, turning to him, and he couldn't help it. He met her eyes, then immediately stared down at his legs. If he allowed himself to look at her, truly look at her, he might say something stupid.
"He's a'ight." Daryl forced himself to grumble. It wasn't a lie. Ezekiel had looked after Carol when he, himself, couldn't. "He's a bit corny, but-" Daryl shrugged, unable to finish the sentence.
Carol, as if sensing his discomfort, smiled and said: "Glad I have Pookie's approval."
He stopped staring at his legs and looked into the distance. The two were silent for a moment.
"After what I went through with Ed," Carol continued, "corny is really, really nice."
Daryl nodded. She loves 'him. She deserves t'be happy.
He turned, forcing himself to look at her. "I'm happy fer you." He nodded as if forcing himself to say those words to her. "If any'ne deserves t'be happy, it's you."
She looked away from him. Daryl found himself grinding his teeth. Carol remained silent. Damn, was that bad t'say?
"I'm not happy," Carol mumbled, still looking away from him. "Not really."
"Why? He do summ't?" Daryl yelled, standing. He was ready to barge into Ezekiel's house, he didn't care that he was asleep, he'd hit him. He'd kill him.
"No! Daryl-" She stood too, gently placing a hand on his arm. It calmed him. "He hasn't done anything. It's me."
His heart quickened. He could feel his teeth grinding again. Nah, he told himself. Don' hope. He placed his hand on her other arm as if they were close to embracing.
"Yer good?"
Carol's face crumpled as tears filled her eyes. Daryl pulled her close to him and she cried, sobbing into his shoulder. He could smell that mint shampoo again. Damn. He tried to fill his thoughts of walkers, anything to stop his growing erection.
"Yer gettin' married tomorrow," Daryl admitted aloud, and though the words cut deep inside of him, he hoped they would stop her tears. They didn't. She sobbed louder. Confused, and yet reminded of that stupid hope, he forced himself to ask, "don't yer wanna?"
Carol's breathing remained heavy, but she seemed to have stopped crying. She swallowed and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "No." she whispered, lifting her head to look Daryl in the eyes. "I don't."
Daryl forced away the urge to rub the skin from his thumb, look away, grind his teeth, anything. Anything to stop the goddamn stupid hope from making him say something goddamn stupid. It's jus' nerves, he told himself, remembering his Aunt Barb on her wedding day. Her feet were so cold she threw up all morning. It's normal.
"It's a'ight to be nervous," Daryl mumbled.
Carol looked as if she were about to cry again. "I'm not."
Goddamn stupid hope. Nah. Mus' be an'ther reason. "Yer not?"
"After what I went through with Ed...I didn't want to marry again."
"Yer bein' forced?" Daryl was suddenly furious. He stepped away from Carol, ready to barge into the house, ready to kill Ezekiel…
"No!" Carol moved towards him. His heart slowed. "I feel…I feel like I have to. For Henry."
Daryl felt realization hit him like a punch in the face. She ain't said she loves Ezekiel. She ain't said she's happy. That goddamn hope may not be so goddamn stupid.
"Do yer love him?" Daryl asked, quickly, before he could change his mind. He was already regretting it. Carol turned away, silent for a moment.
"Yes."
He felt like he'd been punched again. That hope was stupid. Of course she loved Ezekiel. They lived together. They shared a kid. They were getting married.
"But I'm not in love with him."
She met his eyes. He couldn't look away. A million thoughts raced through his head. Love, in love, was there a difference? Daryl hadn't even known what it was until the day he discovered that Rick had banished Carol.
He'd been drawn to her from the start, since she, that asshole Ed and Sophia had joined the quarry camp. She was like a wounded doe, always so fearful, yet there was something special about her. When he'd handed her the pickaxe, he'd felt it again. He'd wanted to protect her. Daryl Dixon had never wanted to protect anyone.
That's why he'd risked his life to find Sophia. When she emerged from that barn, Daryl couldn't help running towards Carol, holding her tight, though he'd never held anyone before, he'd hated human contact. His Mom, before she died, had never held him, and the only physicality his Dad showed was through a whip.
And when they'd found the prison, Carol had hurt her shoulder, and without hesitation Daryl found himself massaging them, though he'd had no idea of what to do or even why. As soon as his hands rubbed the soft skin of her back, he'd felt himself growing hard, imagining Carol's naked back, imagined kissing it while he entered her from behind. He'd had to stop touching her. It was as if she'd read his mind, asking him if he wanted to "screw around". He'd been so embarrassed he'd had to ask her to stop as if that would stop his dirty thoughts too.
But when Rick had banished her, Daryl felt as if his heart had stopped. He couldn't breathe. His stomach felt tight. He'd only just got her back - he'd thought she was dead - and she was gone. Left for dead. By the man he'd thought of as his brother. He'd lashed out at him, ready to hit him, even kill him, and if it hadn't been for the attack by the Governor it could've gone that way.
That was love. She was the person he trusted, the person he cared about most. He'd do anything for Carol. He'd even watch her marry someone else, as long as that person made her happy. Daryl stopped thinking and forced himself to ask her, "wha' d'ya mean?"
"I'm fond of Ezekiel," Carol had turned from him, resisting his touch. "We get on well and we do...sleep together."
Daryl winced at the thought, looking down at his boots.
"But he's not…" Carol continued, pulling away from him, "he's not you."
His mind was racing again. That goddamn hope was back, filling his mind with a swarm of stupid thoughts. She couldn't have meant it. She couldn't.
He couldn't look at her. He stepped away, wanting to run far, far away. Away from this conversation that could not be happening. He was no good with women. She must've meant something else.
"Daryl…" her voice broke, and he couldn't stop himself from looking at her. Carol's blue eyes were filled with tears. Her sadness filled him with longing. He couldn't help but return to her side, gently wiping her eyes as she continued, "please say something…"
I love ya. Always have, always will. "I ain't good at this," Daryl mumbled, praying she'd sense his discomfort. That goddamn hope was at the tip of his tongue but he needed clarity to continue. "Are ya...are y'in love with me?"
The second before she answered felt like hours, stretching on, refusing to calm his thoughts until she replied, quietly, "yes."