Disclaimer: I don't own AMC's The Walking Dead or any of its characters, wishful thinking aside.
Authors Note #1: This story is meant to fit into the canon events of 5x11 and to explore what might have happened after Daryl's group found Eric and waited to be reunited with Rick, Aaron, Glenn and Michonne. This is a Caryl one-shot, with vague references to back ground Aaric (Aaron/Eric).
Warnings: Spoilers for 5x11 "The Distance." *Contains: adult language, adult content, discussion of broken bones and minor injury, prescription drug use for injuries, references to an established homosexual relationship, emotional hurt and comfort, as well as the usual emotion baggage. Additional warning for mild homophobia-type thoughts from Daryl over the course of this story. Mostly involving discomfort/uncertainty from Daryl regarding Aaron and Eric's supposed relationship and his shit upbringing.
Tip the scales (but be ready to cover my Achilles heel)
"You've been quiet," Carol observed, settling down beside him – shoulder to shoulder in the corner of the building they'd decided to hole up in till Rick and the others made it back. The same corner that afforded him a three-sixty span of the room in less than a blink. And more specifically, a perfect view of the ginger bean-pole they'd pulled out from underneath the rust-bucket in the middle of the road.
He swallowed the sigh. Wondering if she was getting tired of being the patron saint of his shitty moods as he tried and failed to come up with a time when her presence wasn't like clock-work these days. They'd grown so in tune with each other he wasn't sure who was feeling what these days.
"Just thinkin," he grunted, fiddling with the blunt end of one of his bolts as Tara and Maggie chattered away with their house guest, ferrying candles around as Maggie prodded carefully at the dude's – Eric sumthing's – swollen ankle. Trying to figure out if it was broken or not as the skinny little whip kept that same, stupid, sweaty smile plastered wide the entire god damned time.
"I know, I could smell the gears in your brain frying from all the way over there," she remarked, amused. Side-eying him for a moment before looking off in the direction he was staring, eyes pensive and half shadowed as the silence between them grew roots and threatened to dig deep.
"So, you think he and his-whatever," he started, more to fill the silence than anything. Flicking his fingers with irritation as he got caught on the word. "Are the real deal then? Good people and all that?"
He bit down on the inside of his cheek, worrying abused red as he thought it over. Forcing himself to swallow the aftertaste of his sardonic tone. The first word out of the ginger's mouth had been that prick's name. And he hadn't shut about him since. Wasn't hard to make the leap after that.
Boyfriend.
Partner.
End of the world fuck.
He wasn't sure which of them applied, if any.
She sighed, rubbing her arms thoughtfully. "Honestly, I don't know what a good person is supposed to be anymore." Letting the moment breathe as they watched Abraham return Eric's pack setting his weapons - a Glock and a battered looking Marine K-Bar - carefully off to the side before tossing him a share of dinner.
"I used to think that was what we were," she remarked softly, almost too low to be heard as he eyed her through the cover of his fringe.
"We are," he grunted, not up for entertaining the negative as she crossed her arms, drawing her knees up to her chest. Looking remarkably small in the half-shadows as something in his chest twinged uncomfortably.
"All we know is that he was telling the truth," Carol returned, glossing over the last bit like she hadn't heard him. "At least about this. As for the rest, his community? Well, that we won't know until it happens. For now we have to decide if it is worth taking the risk, worth taking it on faith."
He snorted, toeing at a bit of gravel as Judith let go of an unhappy burble. Fussing softly until Carl offered her another spoonful of apple sauce.
"And as for whatever they are to each other…well," Carol began, gaze drifting over to where the red-head was talking with Tara and Maggie. "It's clear they love each other. At the end of the day, that doesn't make us much different, does it?"
He wasn't consciously aware of taking her hand.
All he knew was the chill of her fingers as his palm swallowed hers.
He ended up holding on a bit tighter than he probably should have.
Figuring that this time it'd be easy to blame it on the cold.
"I'll take first watch," he replied eventually. "Rick and the others will have seen that flare, same as us. It won't take them long to come lookin'."
He wasn't sure what made him look. But when he chanced a glance over to makeshift pile of cushions, he caught the new guy staring. Wide blue eyes following his angling trek as he crossed the room and thumbed open the door. Giving him a friendly nod before his gaze settled on the after-hour dark of the unlit street. Expression longing and worried in a way that made a sudden burst of recognition settle deep in the very heart of him.
He swallowed hard, finding that he had no energy to fight it. Nothing left to hold back the understanding that it was the same goddamn feeling he'd felt back in the tombs the day Carol had gone missing. The same feeling that had risen up in the back of his throat like bile when Rick had come back through the gates without her. The same feeling that'd shook through the very heart of him when-
He let the door slam behind him. Refusing to regret it as he shouldered his way out into the open air – muddled thoughts following after. He slumped against the wall with a tired sigh, body humming with a jittery sort of tension that had him craving the harsh tang of nicotine. Fingers twitching as they traced the outline of his lighter in his pocket – knowing full well he'd smoked his last stick that morning.
That was who Aaron had been protecting.
This Eric guy.
That was why he'd been so reluctant to give up the details.
Maybe it weren't none of his business. Maybe all those words his Pa had hammered into him when he'd been skinny and green were just that, words. Maybe he wouldn't know a decent, wholesome thing from a kick in the teeth these days. Maybe he was the last person on earth that had any right to judge what two people did in the dark. Maybe…
He hissed in frustration. Kicking at a bit of gravel before he sat his stupid ass down on the pile of milk-crates stacked beside the door, half shielded under an overhang – enough cover in case anyone came sauntering by and tried to decide if they were feelin' lucky.
Lord knows he wasn't good at this sort of shit.
Considering how much things had changed since the world had gone tit up – how much he'd changed – it honestly wouldn't surprise him if he'd had it wrong. He tipped his head back, wrinkling his nose as the smell of overflown city grates and a good year or so of trash-strewn streets hazed out in the light, mid-night breeze.
Maybe Carol was right.
Maybe different wasn't really different after all.
A/N #1: Thank you for reading. Please let me know what you think! Reviews and constructive critiquing are love! – This story is now complete.