"We ain't dead. Whatever happened, happened. Let's start over."
—
He loves her hair. He winds his fingers through it, tucking strands behind her ears. They lay in bed together staring at each other in the semi-dark hotel room catching their breath.
He got the room at her request. She just couldn't fathom losing her virginity in the back of his old Chevy. It was fine for late night fumbling and taking shelter from a Georgia rainfall, but it wasn't where she pictured her first time. When he finally prodded the truth from her and she voiced her opinion out loud, he sighed and said, "Well hell! Why didn't you say somethin before? I'll get us a room. We'll make it special."
If she were honest with herself, she's a little embarrassed at her lack of experience. At twenty she's never had a serious boyfriend before - daddy usually scared them off. Most of the guys in high school knew he was in the military and that he kept a close eye on her. That didn't stop her from sneaking out her bedroom window as a teenager, meeting up with boys to drink warm beer beside a campfire, kissing them with a spinning head.
The night she met Ed she'd barely given him a second thought. She was working at a diner part time to cover her rent (daddy was paying her college tuition - pushing her towards nursing even though she doesn't like the sight of blood) - Ed sat at her section late one night, alone at a table, and ordered a black coffee. His blue eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled at her and asked for a re-fill. When she returned with the coffee pot he asked if she wanted to hear a joke.
"What do you call a deer with no eyes?"
She pauses mid-pour to think about it, suppressing the urge to roll her eyes.
"I don't know. What?"
"I have no-I-deer."
It's probably the corniest joke she's ever heard, but she laughs just the same. After that he came back every night for two weeks straight, snatching bits of time with her one cup of coffee at a time. His tenacity gets the better of her and soon he's picking her up after her shift to drive her home.
—
The first night at the quarry is a restless one for everyone. Thankfully Sophia fell asleep in the back seat of the station wagon while Ed set up the tent. She'd been too afraid to sleep, despite her exhaustion, so it was no surprise that she was the first one of their larger group up and about the next morning.
She carefully climbed into the car to check on her daughter, before turning the key partway in the ignition to flip on the radio. A bone-deep chill runs through her when each station comes up static. On the red horizon smoke is still billowing up from the remains of Atlanta. There is no house for her to return to anymore.
She slips out of the front seat silently and opens the back hatch, searching for the coffee she knows Ed will be expecting - end of the world or not. Truthfully she needs a task, needs to cling to something domestic and familiar to shake herself out of the fear that threatens to paralyze her.
It's clear from a cursory glance that there isn't anything in their clearing to build a fire with. She decides to search for some wood behind the tent, but close-by should something happen. Soon she's lost in thought, bending down to pick up deadwood off the forest floor.
"What you got there, little mousy?"
The voice startles her and she whips her head up to find herself face to face with a dangerous looking man, smoking a cigarette. His eyes are glassy and he is swaying a little on his feet. The ground near him is littered with empty beer bottles, hunting rifles, and a sleeping bag.
"You gonna answer me, or what?"
He lunges towards her and rips the coffee tin she hadn't realized she'd been clutching out from under her arm. He comes close enough that she can smell the booze sweating out of him.
"Aw, that's the stuff," he mumbles, tearing the lid off and taking a deep sniff inside the can.
The sleeping bag moves to reveal the back of another man (younger, but with the same drawl), who turns his head towards them angrily.
"Man, shut the fuck up Merle! Some of us are trying to sleep!"
"Good morning to you too, little brother."
She glances over her shoulder at the campsite, and debates making a run for it, or calling for help. No one seems to be up yet. While she's thinking, the one in the sleeping bag sits up and stares at her - taking in the scene before rising and scratching the back of his neck. His clothes are filthy and the torn off sleeves of his shirt reveal tattoos. He holds her gaze for a second before she drops her eyes to his boots and takes a step back.
For some reason she feels tears forming. All she can think is how much she needs that coffee back. Ed will be furious. These men don't understand. She hears her voice break, in a whisper.
"I - I'll make you some. Just - can I have it back? Please?"
Merle looks to his brother and laughs. When he sways to face her again, he's still smiling, but his eyes are cold.
"Well that's mighty kind of you to offer, Mrs - "
"Peletier."
"- Mrs. Peletier, but I'm very particular about my coffee, so if it's all the same to you, I'll make it myself."
He turns away from her again and walks through the bush, still holding the coffee can. The younger man pauses, then and starts gathering up his things to follow when he notices the tears sliding down her cheeks. He shakes his head as if to say there's nothing to be done, then turns and leaves her - silent and alone.
After a few days she starts to put names to the voices she heard in the dark that first night on the highway. For the first time in years she feels safe - there are so many people, Ed is leery of putting their "business" out in the open. She is also painfully aware of how out of practice she is at being social.
She sees the brothers making their way through camp on occasion, stopping to talk to Dale and Shane, but they mostly keep to themselves. Merle swaggers everywhere, talking a mile a minute at a volume that's impossible to ignore, his brother a quiet shadow at his side. Every time she sees them she burns with shame and busies herself with folding laundry.
—
He surprises her with roses on their first real date. She doesn't have the heart to tell him she thinks that red roses are cliche, reminding herself that it's the thought that counts.
At his insistence, she brings him to meet daddy at church one Sunday. Ed sat in the family pew in a brand new suit he desperately tried not to sweat through. She sat beside him, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze when she thought no one was looking. When the service ended they all went out for lunch together and Ed paid. She enjoyed the way that that seemed to unsettle daddy and impress her mom.
She stayed at home that night, in her old bedroom, surrounded by posters for bands she no longer listened to, feeling smug and satisfied. In the car Mom couldn't stop going on about what a nice young man Ed was. How it was so respectable of him to meet the family.
Daddy stopped by her open doorway (the door itself having been removed years ago in a fight she'll never forget). He was still wearing his suit, but his tie hung loose around his neck. She could see that he was sipping a glass of whiskey. Instinctively she pulled the blankets up to her neck. He just stood there watching her, and sipping. It was unnerving.
"Good night, daddy."
He looked down at his glass then and smirked, but his eyes were cold.
"You think he's pretty special, don't you?"
They've played at this before. She knows better than to try and answer because nothing she says will be the right thing.
He takes a shaky step into her room and points a finger in her face.
"You just remember who pays for you to skip around and flirt at that sorry excuse for a college. Big shot can pay for lunch, but that don't mean he can support you."
He staggers out soon after and she tries to forget the odd mixture of jealousy and disgust in his tone.
—
It's not until the search for Sophia that she finally pieces together a complete picture of Daryl. At first she is so overwhelmed with fear and guilt over losing her little girl, she doesn't recognize that there is something off about him. Out of the influence of his brother he is somehow less menacing to her.
He is so hopeful that Sophia will be found that it sustains her when she is so doubtful. The night he comes back, covered in blood and filth, carrying Sophia's doll, she is busy mashing potatoes in the Greene family's kitchen. Her plan to make herself useful has largely worked - she's only stopped to think about her girl, and the man out searching for her a handful of times.
When she hears the porch door bang closed and Hershal's command to "bring him to the bedroom" her blood runs cold. She puts down the potato masher and exchanges a worried look with Lori before heading down the hall. There are drops of blood staining the rug leading to a closed door and muffled voices.
"... he's passed out for now. Doesn't look like the bullet did much more than graze him."
"Lucky red-neck."
"Best keep him in here for the time being. Let's not scare the ladies."
She knocks tentatively, and Rick opens the door a sliver.
"Is he okay?"
He puts a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
"He'll be fine. Dinner smells great. We'll be with you directly."
Later, when everyone is full and quiet, she slips back down the hall with a tray. She hasn't seen him yet, but she heard he regained consciousness and could only assume he'd be starving. She couldn't track in the woods, ride a horse, or put down a walker - but she could show her appreciation that he could do all of those things for her with a hot meal.
When she opened the door and saw him laid out on his side, a bandage wrapped pathetically around his head, everything she observed about him fell into place. The flinching, the scowling, the clipped words - the way he wouldn't give up on finding Sophia even as the hours drain away the likelihood of her survival.
Despite his injuries he is quick to snatch the sheet over the scars that line his back. They are old and deep. He's been abused too. —
She can feel his eyes on her when they are together. At first it's unsettling. She laughs nervously and tells him to stop, but he doesn't.
"Can't help it. You're a beauty."
From then on she doesn't mention it, just tries to take it as a compliment.
He can't seem to get enough of her. Soon she's skipping her philosophy class so he can take her back to his apartment. He encourages her to ditch work, promising that he'll take care of her. He's been promoted at the office and starts talking about marriage. It's only been a few months. She feels good with him but remains coy, which is apparently not enough. One night, after sex, he brings it up again.
"Let's get married, Carol. I love you so much, honey."
When she doesn't respond, except to laugh and kiss him, he suddenly pulls her away. His hands hold her by the shoulders as he looks into her eyes.
"Don't do that. I'm serious."
She doesn't know how to answer.
"Ed, I'm only 21. Don't you think we can wait a while?"
For the first time, she sees his eyes turn steely.
"What are you sayin? You plannin on waitin to see if something better comes along?"
"No. Of course not. I just... I haven't even finished school yet. Daddy will kill me if I don't graduate."
He sighs. "Is that all? Well, fuck him. Who cares? I told you - I'll take care of you."
And just like that, they're engaged. The next day, at the diner, she tell her co-worker Emily about it, glossing over the less romantic parts. It's not the engagement she dreamed about; there was no ring, and no plan, but she's happy just the same. She gauges Emily's reaction. Her friend seems appropriately excited, and that excitement is a confirmation that she's making the right decision.
Unfortunately, not everyone is so supportive. Mom smiles through gritted teeth and offers congratulations before leaving the living room the night she tells them. Daddy is livid. There is yelling. Assertions of independence and control. Threats to cut off money. Threats to cut off grandchildren. Ed, who had been waiting outside, heard the crash of a lamp and came in to interject. The two men mirror each other circling the living room while she cries for them to stop from the fireplace- her cheek stinging from the blow that daddy managed to land.
—
She can feel his eyes on her when he's near her. She's so drained by the loss of her little girl that she barely registers him, or anyone, for a long time. Gradually, when she's lost her patience with everyone tip-toeing around her, she starts to recognize his constant presence. It's strangely comforting - the reminder that she's not alone.
He sits with her in the RV, silent but there. Unlike the others, it's clear that he doesn't want to talk about it. He offers no cliched sentiments about angels and heavenly peace. She's not sure heaven even exists anymore.
Without Merle or Ed they are both exposed and directionless. There are no shadows to cower under, and now with the echo of a shot from Rick's gun, there is no hope to sustain her either.