Hey guys! So, it's been a long time since I've shipped, or even written fiction for that matter, but here I am totally wrapped up in Caryl! I've been taking refuge on here to tide over the hope until Season 3 (which I still have to wait a whole YEAR for in jolly England :O), and I felt the need to write some canon-y caryl goodness! Don't get me wrong – I'm all for being creative, going AU or mary-janeing yourself into a lusty romp with Daryl, it's all good! But even some of those fics which do err on the side of canon don't always address the complexity of their characters and the subtlety or difficulty of their relationship (or they do, just until they get to sex scenes and they both suddenly become porn stars :O). I just really felt the need to try and capture the overwhelming sense of kinship that underpins Carol and Daryl's relationship. It's a beautifully subtle but profound connection, which I think is so striking because it appeals to what all of us want in a very fundamental way. The breakdown of society has a very different effect on Carol and Daryl's lives compared to the others, and it's this unique situation that allows that sense of kinship to fully be explored, regardless of the status of their relationship.
So here goes! It's been quite a few years so I hope it's not too bad! Rated M as I'm not averse to using really fucking bad language and neither is Daryl because he's a badass motherfucker. Please R+R and enjoy (hopefully). Also, if you get the chance, 'somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond' is a poem by the insanely wonderful e. e. cummings - it is beautiful, and for me, it's Caryl all over. I would have put it as a preface but I didn't want the copyright gremlins to come and get me, so please read it!
I own nothing except my imagination.
1|7 hours
Carol paced endlessly around the small fire, making as if to brush away the debris from the dirt floor of their makeshift seating area with her feet.
It was the same pointless pottering that had previously filled her life when she could do nothing else. Now it provided a strange comfort, a semblance of normality that also went some way to adding to her frustration.
Still she could do nothing. After all this time.
In the raw emotion of that first, terrible night after the farm, she had sat beside Daryl and told him she was a burden. Graciously, he had declined to even acknowledge that she had spoken - she knew in his way refusing to accept her defeat – but in that very moment she could not have felt more helpless.
The sun was beginning to set and Daryl still hadn't returned from his early morning hunt.
7 hours.
It had been at least seven hours, she thought.
Carol tried to convince herself out of worrying. Probably just tracking something big. A deer or a coyote, perhaps. He knew how dire their supplies were getting. Both the nearest towns they had scouted had been overrun with walkers and he was probably just trying to bring back as much as he could. He was out there providing like only he could.
Her eyes darted hopelessly in the dimming light from one corner to the next, desperately searching for any sign of movement. Concern had begun to radiate around the group in terse whispers. It was pleasing, if bittersweet, for Carol to see them beginning to realise just how invaluable he was to the group, to the way of life they had been forced to adopt.
Rick was worried. His face had gradually, over the long, winter months, become more and more overcast with the weight of responsibility, and today his eyes were set with disquiet. He had looked over many a time, often with a well-intentioned hand on her shoulder.
'I'm sure he'll be back soon.' Rick said softly, with a comforting authority left over from his police days.
Carol imagined him, what felt like an eternity ago, using the same manner with beaten wives and distraught mothers. But it seemed this time it was much for his benefit as hers. She gave the token smile she felt she ought to and nodded politely. The worry that had settled itself around her eyes did not go unnoticed by Rick, and he pressed on in an increasingly rare moment of tenderness.
'Carol...he's the best of any of us. I wouldn't let him go out there otherwise. Really, don't – just try not to worry yourself.'
She almost laughed inwardly at the thought of Rick, or anyone, trying to stop Daryl. She knew - they all knew, that he would fare better out there on his own than all of them put together. It was never a lack of faith in him that worried her.
'We don't know what's out there.' She paused and looked down thoughtfully, arms wrapped protectively around her middle. Smothering the cold. Smothering the anxiety building in the pit of her stomach. '...or how many.'
'We never have.' She looked up at Rick's austere tone and he met her gaze pointedly . 'We just convinced ourselves we did. Thought we were safer. That we had a grip on things.' He paused. 'We have never known.'
'I know.' She said.
'But if anyone does have a grip on things - it's Daryl. A damn sight more than me.' Rick sighed, watching Lori emerge, bump-first from their small, scavenged tent.
Carol took her turn to place a comforting hand on his back. She he did not envy him.
'Carol!' Lori was walking over. 'Hey – uh, can you come help me try and find something to feed this rabble?'
'Of course.' Carol smiled, throwing a glance at Rick who gave her a sympathetic nod and sloped off to his watch point. Lori was trying to distract her, forgetting that the lack of dinner stemmed directly from the lack of Daryl. Still, she needed something to do.
As the two women made off to where they kept their stores in the bed of T-dog's truck, Rick suddenly turned on his heel.
'We'd look for him.'
His voice shook. Carol and Lori stopped dead. Memories of Andrea hung raw in the air.
They hadn't gone after her.
There was silence as all three stood, eyes roaming the floor.
'We would search for him. I- if - if he needed it.' Rick said resolutely, knowing instinctively what - or whom their thoughts had drifted to. Just as his own had.
He turned abruptly, without another word, and walked off, as if trying to make sense of what he had just allowed himself to say. Lori watched after him in despair. It was not an unfamiliar reaction – lately, her confidence in his every decision and action was marred at best. Unfairly, Carol thought.
In that one moment, Rick had just effectively undermined his own authority. Perhaps even regained a little more of the humanity Dale would've considered lost. Or just shown the extent of his desperation at the situation they were in and the responsibility he was burdened with. But somewhere in all that was concern for Daryl.
A recognition of how important he was.
How important he was to her.
The fear bore down on Carol as she walked. A hot, heavy weight around her head and shoulders. It burnt behind her ears and flooded down her neck to force her heart painfully southwards in her chest. She barely noticed Lori struggling to lift the heavy tarpaulin that covered their meagre supplies. She daren't even begin to think.
It was worse now, without the farm. They may have fooled themselves, allowed themselves to be lulled into the false sense of security that Hershel had created - that much she agreed, but she still longed for it, if only because it had made reality all the harder.
They would give it some time, she decided. She didn't know how long. And then they would go after him. She was sure of that. And if they wouldn't go, she would show just how proactive she could be, and she would go alone. She would not sit idly by again.
She couldn't lose him too.
I hope that was OK! Please R+R and tell me whether it's worth carrying on or not :S And I have no idea if you have deer or coyotes in Georgia. I just googled 'large wild animals in georgia' it came up with deer and coyotes, so that's what y'all got! Oh the joys of being a brit!
I tend to have a soundtrack to everything I write that becomes part of the feel of the thing, so I thought it would be nice to share them with you. I always find it interesting to compare how differently I perceive something to someone else, especially as a writer to readers. For this chapter, and kind of influencing a possible second, it was 'The Bear' by My Morning Jacket. The main melodic motif in the chorus does to my heart what I imagine is something faintly like Carol's would be doing in this situation.
It's a bad idea, to go down to the pier by yourself after dark.
It's a bad idea, cause they're down on their luck
And they've lost touch with their bleeding hearts.
Bad idea, cause I've felt that way and I know I shouldn't have gone.