Hey everyone, this is another Daryl and Carol fan-fic. I do plan on expanding on this story, not my one shot (Bring Back 1985). Give me lots of reviews and suggestions, I love to see them. Fight the dead. Fear the living. - Ash
It was summer. The air was stale and uncomfortable with humidity to make even Daryl's thin, straight hair stick up in places that made him huff in discomfort. You could inhale the moisture that hung in the air. The walkers that clung to the prison fences smelled more putrid than ever before. The smell was so bad the group decided to make it a daily task to pick them off the fence and burn the bodies every evening. While the threat of the Governor still existed, he and what was left of his henchmen had not been spotted for months.
The group figured they were regrouping in another location, gathering up as many survivors as they came across to brainwash and train for the next battle. The prison was ready for another onslaught. They had larger numbers now, had stocked up on more weapons and ammunition, made necessary repairs to the walls and fences, and had covered any exposed area in thick sheets of scrap metal and wood to give the prison the appearance of a fortress. Gun training was a must to those who were able to wield a weapon and defend their sanctuary. There were watchmen covering almost every side of the prison's perimeter.
Besides the heightened security measures, life within the prison resumed and an odd sense of normalcy was established. The partner system had been put into effect; no one was to go anywhere in or out of the prison walls without their partner on the defensive behind them. It was Daryl and Carol's turn to go on a supply run. They were running low on diapers and formula for Judith who was now starting to crawl around and gurgle the beginnings of vowels. Food was always scarce due to the influx of Woodbury members that had joined the group not too long ago.
The supply in the main storage unit was picked clean and now the daunting task of finding enough food for everyone in a non-perishable form was put upon the two. They decided to take the pickup truck, sticking supplies in the back of the cabin and the rest in the bed with bungee ropes to hold everything in place in case they encountered a hairy situation along the way back. Carl stood at the ready to open the gate, his face hidden under the shadow of his father's ten gallon sheriff's hat, but his frown was evident from any given distance. Ever since the new arrivals from Woodbury arrived he was in a perpetual state of misery, disregarding any communication attempted on the newcomer's end. To them, they were like rats that took up precious space within the prison.
He had grown increasingly solemn to a point where the only person he tolerated was Rick, but only in small doses. He was an irate and unpredictable boy that Daryl kept a close eye on as much as he could and Carol gave up trying to console and reason with a long time ago. The pickup groaned to life and Carol sat in the passenger seat, idly wiping the collecting dust off the dashboard. Never once did Daryl put in the effort to give the pickup a good cleaning inside and out. He always made the excuse of letting the wind pull all of the dust out of the car and rain as a natural exfoliant for the body of the vehicle.
It wasn't the smartest idea to keep the windows open while creeping around traffic on the highway or rolling through seemingly abandoned towns when the threat of walker herds coming from any angle could take them off guard. Daryl looked over at Carol who flicked the dust off her fingers, her face in a disgusted grimace. "Ain't no need for that. Jus' gonna get dirty all over again." Daryl grumbled.
Carol rolled her eyes, "Well, I'd rather only choke on the humidity than the dust devils in this car."
"Those only happen in the desert and that's from a big amount o' wind," Daryl countered with a frown, his eyes narrowing.
"We'll be sure to keep the windows closed then."
"Ain't no A/C, woman. That stopped workin' years ago."
Carol sat there staring at him in horror, allowing herself to blink a few times before facing towards the gate again. Carl fidgeted impatiently at the gate and Daryl creeped forward to let him know to be at the ready. The boy gave a slight nod and pulled the gate open as soon as the truck neared. Carol waved but Carl was refused to look up at either of them as the truck bounced over the uneven dirt path leading out of the prison. The sun hit the car in intervals as it peaked through the cracks of space between branches.
Carol kept her window open slightly to allow the sticky air to at least circulate within the cabin. The car ride was relatively silent except for Daryl clearing his throat once in the blue as if he had something to say and Carol looking over in anticipation only to meet his gaze with a confused squint. She let out a small sigh and looked out the passenger window and started to hum a Wye Oak tune. She dared not to let the lyrics escape from her lips and she could feel Daryl shift in his seat as she hummed louder, allowing herself to close her eyes and let the small breeze going through the car to caress her glistening face. If she ever hummed in the car with Ed, he would demand her to "stop with that fucking racket, Carol."
Daryl did not say anything, however, and she wondered if that meant he enjoyed hearing her hum. He cleared his throat and this time he spoke, "So, where do ya wanna stop first?" This took Carol by surprise. She had only recently started accompanying him on supply runs and he had never sought her counsel as to where to scavenge for supplies first. She didn't care all that much where they stopped first, as long as walkers didn't stand in their way.
After a moment she decided, "General store. See what we can gather there as far as baby needs and food and if need be we can hit the super market outside of town." Daryl, seeming satisfied with her answer, sped up and within another ten minutes they were parked outside of the general store. The immediate surrounding area looked clear, but Daryl exited the vehicle swiftly, crossbow at the ready, and did a quick sweep around the store before giving Carol a thumbs up to leave the truck. Carol made sure her handgun was tucked safely in her belt she had acquired when looting the local police station. She had an extra clip ready if need be stored in the back pocket of her jeans.
Her eyes adjusted to the sunlight and her body immediately felt weakened from the blast of Georgian heat that hit her as soon as she stepped out of the truck. She already felt the sweat begin to pool under her armpits and around her thighs and she itched to peel these clothes off her body and indulge in a cold shower back at the prison. Daryl stared at Carol for moment before jerking his head toward the general store, but something else caused Carol to become distracted and walk in the opposite direction of Daryl. "Where are ya goin'?" Daryl groaned.
Carol ignored the childish undertone to his question and pulled on the door to the music shop that was next to the general store. They were in a new location. The last town they sought for supplies had been wiped clean for the most part by looters during the early weeks of the outbreak. The group gathered what they could and mapped out the next town to scout. Many people found no reason to raid such trivial places so the music shop remained seemingly untouched.
Carol pulled on the shop door and a bell jingled overhead that echoed throughout the abandoned space. Acoustic and electric guitars lined the walls with practice and method books stacked on shelves underneath the guitars. Drum sets were pushed up against the back wall next to the sales counter. Any wall space that wasn't taken up by guitars were covered in concert posters from Woodstock to Bonaroo. Sitting in the middle of the shop were a collection of pianos and one in particular that caught Carol's interest.
She heard Daryl approach her from behind as she moved towards the baby grand standing out gloriously amongst the Casio's and Yamaha keyboards that surrounded this marvel. Carol had played since a young age and Ed had not allowed her to move her childhood piano into their home when they got married to continue playing. She had hoped to teach Sophia when she came of age, but Ed had quickly quelled this prospect with a firm beating after openly defending her desire to teach Sophia the art. Carol removed any hope of playing for own leisure let alone to teach Sophia among with many other prospective milestones in her life when she married Ed. Daryl followed her until she sat at the bench and grazed her finger tips over the dusty keys.
"Didn't know you could play." She could hear the smirk in Daryl's comment behind her.
She smiled to herself, "A long time ago. I'm probably rusty."
She poised herself to play and Daryl stood silently behind her, waiting for her to begin. Her fingers suddenly stiffened with nerves as she felt the urge to play the perfect melody on the first attempt to impress Daryl. Nothing had quite come as naturally to Carol as her inclination towards music. She was an auditory learner, someone who could listen to a song and play it back on the piano almost effortlessly. She nervously fingered a few keys up and down the staff to warm up and she felt a tingling sensation running through her body.
Her mind recognized this routine, although it had been a long time since she had played, and urged her to continue. Her fingers graced the piano keys and started churning out the beginnings of Yellow by Coldplay. She remembered the night she recited her first song, Moonlight Sonata, to her parents in their den. Her mother hummed harmoniously with the music that filled every room of the house and her father puffed his chest out in pride. Their daughter's weekly private lessons in addition to practicing for an hour almost every day had yielded beautiful results.
Her mother would request her to play the classics while she read her romance novels on the loveseat beside her. Carol narrowed her eyes in concentration as her fingers glided over the keys. She felt a rush of tranquility wash over her as the notes filled the space and the further she progressed into the song, the more the muscles in her arms and back relaxed. Playing was like riding a bike, once she got the hang of it she realized she never forgot it in the first place. She allowed herself to smile as she reached the chorus, her wrists thrusting upwards with every crescendo.
She became so immersed in the music she did not notice when Daryl placed his crossbow gently on the ground next to the piano and sat beside her on the stool. His shoulders brushed hers as he scooted closer and Carol jumped out of her music trance. Her hands immediately left the keys and folded nervously on her lap. She looked down, her cheeks crimson and her lips pressed in a thin line. "Why'd you stop?" Daryl asked softly from besides her.
She turned her head to face him only to find he was merely inches away from hers. Her breath caught as she locked eyes with him, the most tranquil blue in a rough-edged man she had ever seen. Her lips parted to form words, but all that escaped was a soft exhale. His eyes squinted slightly as his lips curled into the smallest form of a smile. His face glistened with something more than just sweat and his lips, although cracked, were the softest and most supple pink.
"Sorry," Carol muttered, looking down at her hands again.
"Ain't nothin' to say sorry for," he shrugged.
"I haven't played in such a long time. It'd be nice to have something to occupy my time with besides Ass Kicker and preparing food. I forgot how much joy I found in it, and that's hard to come across nowadays. It makes me feel liberated. Maybe that's why Ed never wanted me to play."
Daryl shifted uncomfortably in his seat and they both sat in silence for a moment. "So, uh, did Sophia know how to play?" Daryl asked at almost a whisper. Carol shook her head slowly, tears threatening to spill over onto her dirty cheeks. Of course Sophia had not been given the opportunity to learn.
If her prick of a husband had not allowed Carol to play why would he let his daughter? He snorted at the gal of that pathetic excuse for a human being and Carol reacted with a curious glance. Daryl slowly reached for her hand, shocked at how soft and delicate they felt under his rough and calloused edged fingers. He grazed his fingers over hers that made Carol shiver slightly. "She would have had the best teacher," he remarked, his eyes fixated on her hand, now intertwined with his.
She said nothing and he looked up at her, "Ed wasn' a man," his voice lined with venom. She was perplexed at his sudden outburst. Her shoulders brushed with his again and his eyes remained fixated on hers with such intensity she had to look down at where his hand encompassed hers. "That doesn't really matter now all that much. He's gone," Carol spoke at a normal volume.
Daryl could sense a lot of emotions behind those words, but sadness was surely not one of them. Her saying that alone attested to how much she had grown since the quarry back in Atlanta. She was a woman who proved she could hold her own and take back her life in this damned world after she had lost everything to call her own. Daryl gave her hand a small squeeze and said without pause, "Well that just leaves room for someone else to come in."
He immediately froze at what he had just said. Did he just flirt with Carol? He quickly released her hand and cleared his throat. From the corner of his eye he saw Carol smirking, eyes lit up in thought. Is that what she wanted to hear?
Daryl was besides himself, mentally cursing his actions with every name in the book. He had not noticed he was blushing until Carol giggled and prodded his arm. He opened his mouth to apologize when a sudden bang outside the shop window took them out of the awkward situation. Daryl quickly snagged his crossbow and Carol drew her handgun. He swore out loud as a walker clung to the window, snarling and baring it's blackened teeth at the two, noticing their presence in the shop. Carol whimpered as she gestured towards more that were making their way across the street towards them, their paces quickened and mouths gaping open at the smell of living flesh.
To be continued.