Note: I'm new to TWD, having just binge-watched 7.5 seasons. My butt is now superglued into a seat on board the Caryl train. Don't say you weren't warned. No spoilers, but anything that's already aired in the U.S. Is fair game.
Standard Disclaimer: I'm just a working stiff. I own nothing, and I mean nothing.
Part I
We Ain't Ashes
Carol Pelletier had never been a good sleeper. Tonight was no exception. After Daryl left she paced about and fretted nervously, all of her thoughts and feelings in a jumble.
She thought that she needed isolation, seclusion, a life free from connections to others. That way, she wouldn't be put into a position of having to kill to protect someone she loved. The icing on the cake was that she would never have to lose anyone again. Yet even to her, this made no sense. By walking away, she had chosen to lose all of them. Even him. But still, she hung onto the delusion. No one would find her here, and she was never going to see any of them again. That was what she wanted, right?
So why, when she opened that door, did it feel as though she'd been thrown a life preserver? She couldn't deny that she'd been very, very happy to see him. She'd always known that she loved him, but until that moment, she hadn't realized just how much. She embraced him, clung to him, and breathed in his scent. She made no attempt to stop the tears from falling.
For his part, he'd seemed tentative and restrained. She was utterly shocked when he'd gently moved her arm off of him and pushed her away. It had hit her like a punch in the gut to be rejected by Daryl, and she let a soft whimper of dismay escape her lips.
The sadness in his eyes and the way his voice broke when he asked why she'd left him told her all she needed to know.
"Why'd you go?"
She owed him an explanation, that much she knew. She did the best she could to convey that it was because she cared about him, not because she didn't.
As much as she'd tried to hide from it, she cared about all of the people at Alexandria. She knew Daryl wasn't being entirely truthful. His hesitation alone had told her that much. Something awful had happened, and he had lied to her.
She couldn't be upset with him, though. She had all but begged him to lie. She needed the lie. He had merely given what she needed when she needed it. Carol couldn't recall a single instance when Daryl had lied before; he was a very honest person. Sometimes brutally so. She knew that this lie was meant to protect her, and she was grateful for it.
He had looked so good, too. Well, apart from the blood on his face. But when didn't he have blood on his face these days? She had tenderly cleaned it off and disinfected the gash on his left temple.
"Make another new friend?" She had asked, trying to hold back her emotions by lightening the mood.
"Don't worry, he got the worst of it," he'd assured her.
She'd noticed the bandage peeking out from under his shirt. Before she could even ask, he'd muttered "it ain't bad" in a tone that indicated he'd rather not discuss it.
The blue denim shirt he wore suited him quite nicely; the sleeves half-rolled up accentuated his muscles and the color brought out his piercing blue eyes. She casually wondered why he wasn't wearing his vest. She hated that damn vest, but she was so accustomed to seeing it on him that it almost didn't feel right for it to be absent. The crossbow he'd carried was new, too. What prompted the change she could only guess.
And then he was gone. He'd just walked off into the night. She may never see him again. That was what she'd claimed she wanted, right? To be alone? Then why had she felt the urge to call after him? To run after him
She tossed and turned all night. The day that followed was spent doing trivial tasks; she hoped busying herself with something would distract her from the gnawing loneliness that had suddenly invaded her world.
Another sleepless night led into another empty day. She spent the morning hunting, bagging a wild turkey for her efforts. She encountered only two walkers, and dispatched them with ease. The turkey was cleaned, prepped and cooking in no time. It was a shame that so much of the turkey was going to go to waste, but without refrigeration there was simply no way to preserve it.
As the sun began to set, the bird was nearly done, and Carol was staring anther long night in the face.
Knock knock knock knock.
She opened the door to find him standing there. Again.
"Hey," Daryl said as he entered. "Need to talk to you 'bout somethin'."
( )
Carol's condition weighed heavily on Daryl's mind. He'd known for a long time that she was struggling. But she she hadn't ever wanted to talk about it, hadn't wanted to let him, or anyone else, in. He wondered now if he should have pushed a bit harder.
In the last two weeks, he'd seen two friends beaten to death, he'd been shot, abducted and tortured, and become the primary target of a ruthless bunch of predators. His guilt over his role in Glenn's death threatened to crush him under its weight. Then, when he'd finally gotten out of the Sanctuary, he'd learned that Carol was gone. That's why he hadn't seen her when the Saviors took him on their raid of Alexandria. She wasn't there. She had left them—left him—exactly as she'd tried to do before when he'd found her out by that car in the night. That was what hurt worse than anything Negan's goons could do to him. He needed to see her, and he needed to know why.
Now he knew why, but the pain that ate away at him wasn't any better; it was just…different. He knew now that it wasn't about anything he did or didn't do, it was something within herself, and that troubled him very deeply.
He hated that he had to lie to her, but he just couldn't tell her the truth. It would have been the end of her. Morgan was right. They were all holding onto something, and for him that something was Carol. She mattered more to him than anything else, and he would not sacrifice her, not even to defeat Negan.
Hilltop was roughly a twelve hour walk from the Kingdom. It would take less than one hour by car, but Daryl couldn't afford the luxury on traveling over roads. The Saviors could throw up a roadblock at any point and he'd be a dead man—if he were lucky. No, he had to stick to the backwoods route.
He arrived at dusk and made his way to the trailer shared by Maggie, Sasha and Enid.
"Hey!" Maggie smiled as she threw her arms around him. "Sasha said you were staying at the Kingdom."
"I couldn't stay there. Need to be doin' somethin'."
"Good. Listen, while the others are out, we, uh, we haven't had a chance to talk."
Daryl wasn't sure he wanted a chance to talk to Maggie—he did, but he was dreading it. He had been involved in the death of yet another of her loved ones. He wasn't sure he'd be able to look her in the face.
"Maggie," he choked, "I'm sorry…"
"Daryl." She put her face in front of his to force eye contact, a technique she'd clearly learned from Rick. "Daryl? Look at me. I know you blame yourself. It's just what you do. It's your fallback reaction whenever something goes wrong."
"I was so stupid! I thought he would kill me not someone else."
"You had been shot. You were bleeding, and in shock. We are under so much stress. And that bastard was terrorizing Rosita. You went into full-on Daryl mode and did what we know and love you for—you jumped up to protect a woman who was being abused." Though her eyes were moist, she gave him a reassuring grin. "I can't hate that, Daryl."
"You should," he sputtered while fighting his own tears. "It shoulda been me."
"It shouldn't have been anyone. That was Negan's choice, and his alone. I miss Glenn like crazy, but I'm so glad for the time we had."
"The baby's good?"
"Yeah, the baby's fine. We're both fine. And if I had to do it all again knowing what I know now, I would do exactly the same."
"Even knowin' you were gonna lose him?"
"Yeah. I'd rather have had the time with him and lose him than never experience that kind of relationship." She glanced at the clock on the wall. "There's a dinner banquet tonight in the courtyard. Come with us."
"Naw, I'm good."
"Well, we don't have much here, so good luck."
Daryl used the time alone to cook up the squirrel he'd killed on his way in. It was good, as far as squirrels go, and certainly worlds better than the dog food sandwich Dwight served, but it just couldn't come anywhere near as good as the stew Carol had prepared for him the night before. Sigh. As always, his thoughts had circled back to her.
"How did we get here?"
A difficult question to ponder when Carol had posed it while staring at the remnants of Atlanta. They were holed up in a battered women's shelter while searching for Beth. Daryl supposed his answer was inadequate.
"We just did."
But some questions were simply unanswerable.
And now he found himself asking himself the same question, this time with regards to the mental states of him and Carol.
"How did we get here?"
The question had meanings and nuances he hadn't heard before. It seemed to Daryl that they had gotten here along a rocky road paved with losses and traumas. Each one was like a knife cut on the soul, never getting a chance to heal before a new one was inflicted. How could they mend the recent wounds when the old ones were festering underneath?
He and Carol were both quite skilled at avoidance, though he had gotten somewhat better of late. It was easier to just try to forget trauma than it was to confront it. But that was precisely the problem; by refusing to confront the trauma, they had never resolved any of it. Deaths had occurred. Heartaches had occurred. And none of them had ever been fully grieved.
Perhaps that was the solution. He couldn't say for certain whether it would help Carol, but it sure couldn't hurt. He knew what he had to do now. In the morning, he would tell Maggie to pass along to Rick that he would be gone for a week or two, but back in plenty of time to take the fight to Negan. It would take Rick that long to find an army, anyway. Then he would head back through the woods toward the Kingdom.
( )
"Hey. Need to talk to you 'bout somethin'."
Carol let him in the door and shut it behind him.
"I, um, wasn't expecting to see you again so soon. But I'm glad you're here. Your timing is perfect—turkey's almost done." She gestured toward the fireplace.
"Yeah, thanks. Left Hilltop straight after breakfast."
"Have a seat."
He leaned his backpack and crossbow against the wall and sat at the table. Carol couldn't help but notice the nervous fidgeting his hands were doing as he stared at them.
"What's on your mind?"
"You know I lied to you," he blurted. "It's why I had to go-I'm a shitty liar."
"I know. But I was asking you to lie to me. It was what I needed to hear. And I still need it."
"You ain't mad?"
"No. Not at all."
She thought it was time for some truth of her own. "I didn't want you to go."
"I know."
As she moved to remove the turkey from the fire, he did it for her. It wasn't very heavy, but it seemed like the chivalrous thing to do. He placed it on the table and began carving. Once dinner had been served, they sat down to eat.
"I'm takin' a road trip," he told her. "Come with me."
Carol sighed deeply. She wanted to go—she really did. She wanted to follow him last time. But she just wasn't convinced that she was ready.
"Please," he said gently. "I got somethin' I need to do and I need your help 'cause I think it might help you, too."
When she remained silent, he continued. "You and me, we're both in a bad way. This might be our last chance to get right."
"Where are you going?"
"Back to the start. I figure the way to put ourselves back together is to face head on the things that broke us. All this crap we ain't never really dealt with."
"Back to the start," she echoed.
"I told ya we ain't ashes. Who we used to be? They ain't burned away . They're just buried under the gigantic piles of shit that keep gettin' dumped on us."
They ate in silence for several minutes while Carol considered his proposal. It made sense. Maybe they did need to heal the old wounds before they could handle the new ones. But the thought of facing and acknowledging that pain and loss nearly paralyzed her. But he was right. If they didn't find a way to cope now, it may soon be too late to ever be okay again. What did she really have to lose?
"We can leave in the morning," she said at last.
"Good."
"So where are we going?"
"Start with that old camp in the quarry. Work our way forward from there."
After dinner, she changed the bandage on his chest, still not daring to ask about the nature of the wound, and they turned in for the night. As he made himself comfy stretched out on her sofa, he silently hoped that this would work. They both really needed it to work.
...TBC