AN: Thank you to my wonderful betas, Meeshie and Illusianation! So much love to you for putting up with me!
"Miss Carol, Miss Carol!"
She pulled her sweater tighter around her body and went to answer the light but insistent knocking of the child at the front door. Opening the door, she felt the cold air swirl in, bringing with it tiny tufts of snowflakes that caught in the cables of her sweater before melting in the heat of the house.
"Miss Carol!"
Sam stood at the door. Really it wasn't standing. He was hopping from foot to foot in the excited way that only a child can display at the sight of fresh white, glistening snow.
"Yes, Sam," Carol answered, holding back a smile at his enthusiasm.
"We need a carrot!"
"Fresh out of carrots, I'm afraid."
Sam's face fell in abject disappointment, and her heart squeezed at the sadness on his face. The kids had so little in their lives to bring them joy in this new world.
"I'm sure I can find something. Go on. I'll bring it to you."
The kid just about bounced down the steps and off the porch, kicking up snow behind his boots as he raced excitedly back to the half-formed snow lump.
Carol dug through the closet, pulling out a knit cap and a scarf, and searched through the kitchen to find something to substitute as a nose. She grabbed some buttons from her sewing kit, wrapped up in her own coat and hat and, along with her supplies, she joined the kids out in the snow.
Daryl hitched his crossbow higher on his shoulder as he trudged down the snow covered streets of Alexandria. Leaving fresh prints in his wake, he studied the houses around him. Smoke filtering out through the chimneys, candles lit in the windows, he could see the families gathered around, sharing in each other's company.
It was surreal.
As he approached the houses shared by their group, he could hear the muffled shouts and laughs of children playing and romping in the snow. It caused a funny stir in his chest. He got closer and noticed it wasn't just kids. Carol was out there as well.
He saw her crouching next to a row of snowmen and tossing snowballs at someone whom he assumed was Carl, based on the Sheriff's hat he wore. Snowflakes dusted the rim of the hat as they fell, and when he moved his head they would dust over his cheeks, which were reddened by the cold. Sam scampered around trying to protect Carol and shield her from the return snow missiles Carl was launching in her direction.
He stood mystified, transfixed, at the scene before him. Like it was straight out of a Hallmark Greeting card or a Rockwell painting (yeah, he knew some shit, despite what everyone thought about him.)
The kids' laughter pealed over the burst of wind and snow, and on top of that, the most beautiful, wonderful sound graced his ears. Carol was laughing. He stepped closer, his legs and feet moving without him even ordering them to do so, drawn by the silvery, joyful sound that sent licks of warmth up his spine and through his limbs.
He hadn't heard her laugh in ages. Since the day they teased Glenn and Maggie in the guard tower. The day that T-Dog and Lori died. There hadn't been any cause to laugh in so long, he'd almost forgotten what it was like to hear it bubble forth freely, from a deep inner happiness that spilled out, unable to be contained.
He sat his crossbow on the porch and jogged over to Carl, unable to resist the urge to join in the escapades. Something he'd never been free to do in his own childhood.
"Look like you could use some help," Daryl said, as he ducked behind the tree Carl was using as a shield.
Carl laughed and peeked around just in time to get hit in the face with a handful of powdery snow.
"Sam! Not in the face!"
Daryl heard Carol admonish the boy and he gathered up his own handful of snow, forming a rough ball-shaped lump. The snow froze his fingertips, which were left exposed by the fingerless leather gloves he wore while hunting and riding his bike, but the sensation was not unpleasant, yet.
He motioned Carl off to the side to distract the other two and ducked behind the bushes, sneaking around to the backs of Carol and Sam. Stealthily creeping up to them, footsteps muted in the drifts of snow, he threw the snowballs, pelting them both in the backs with lumps of snow.
The two shrieked in surprise as the tiny bits of snow and ice fell down into their collars and melted on the warm flesh beneath their clothes.
Daryl chuckled as he ran back to Carl only to be tackled from behind, landing with a loud "oomph" in the snow. Sam and Carol piled on top of him as Carl came running to his aid, scooping up armfuls of the powdery substance and dumping it on all three of their heads.
Daryl reached out and grabbed Carl's ankle, dragging him down into the piles of snow with them. They dissolved into giggles as they all rolled around smashing fistfuls of snow into whatever body parts they could reach.
Carol ended up on top of Daryl, trapping him on the cold, wet ground. He looked up at her face, sparkling blue orbs glistening with tears of laughter and watering from the cold air, eyes and nose scrunched up and lips parted as she panted from exertion.
His mind didn't register how long they laid down in the snow like that. Didn't feel the snow melting through his pants or the wetness soaking his hair. He didn't even notice how cold his hands were, or how his fingers had stiffened. All he saw was her.
The world around them finally intruded and Carl lent Carol a hand to get up off the ground, Daryl easing up after her. His joints were stiff and his back popped as he stretched.
Snow was clumped on the bottom of his pants and around his boots as he stomped towards his bow, trying to shake the ice off of his body, so he didn't track it in the house.
Carol invited the boys in for hot chocolate and they eagerly agreed, running ahead of him and storming into the house. Carol caught up to Daryl, and took his arm in hers, swinging it along as they walked up the steps to the porch.
"That was fun."
He could hear the smile in her voice and he felt a bolt of joy run through his own chest.
"Yeah, it was," Daryl agreed with her, opening the door and holding it for her as she entered before him.
She went about making the boys their treat to warm them up, while he kicked off his boots in the entryway, shrugged off his jacket and and padded into the kitchen after her.
His feet were freezing; his thick insulated socks were soaked, leaving wet footprints behind him as he walked. He peeled the wet, leather gloves off his hands-not an easy task-and turned the faucet on, holding his hands under the cool water. He cursed under his breath as he adjusted the temperature slowly, his hands feeling like pins and needles were stabbing him.
Carol heard his grunts and came over to stand by him, gasping as she saw the color of his hands.
"Daryl!"
She looked at him and he could see the distress in her eyes. He reached up and warmed the water a little bit more.
"Why didn't you come in? Or wear warmer gloves?" She turned and poured him a cup of hot chocolate, grumbling, "Insufferable men," as she placed the mug near him.
"I'm alright," he said as he turned the hot water up a little bit more.
"You sure?" Carol asked him, biting her lower lip, as if she thought he was just saying that to make her feel better.
"I'm positive," he stated firmly. "And even if I wasn't...," he paused, looking into her eyes, impressing upon her that he was serious. "Even if I wasn't, it was worth it."