Author's note!
Quick oneshot drabble thing that was done for a tumblr prompt for thereadersmuse who I sincerely hope enjoys it since she's one of my faves :)
Just Carol watching over Daryl while he sleeps, unbetaed, enjoy and please review!
We all want something to hold in the night.
We don't care if it hurts when we're holding too tight.
Hardest Of Hearts- Florence And The Machine
The storage unit was cold and dirty, a mere four medium-sized containers lined up next to one another.
The roll up doors were bloodstained and herself, T-dog and Daryl had been forced to split one of the box-filled spaces between them.
But it had walls and Carol was grateful for it, though it was only a short rest stop. They'd be on the road again by morning.
However, for tonight they would have a couple of the filthy, stained mattresses that had been scrounged up and a few new-to-them moth eaten blankets mixed with their usual torn ones. For tonight they could rest in relative comfort instead of the bitter, winter-hardened ground.
At least they could try, but for the life of her Carol couldn't lure herself to sleep, the sound of T-Dog's steady pacing while he kept watch outside helping none.
Usually she found the sound of footsteps reassuring, a reminder that they were under guard and could close their eyes in relative safety.
But tonight they struck her as echoing, discordant noise, the low sounds barring her from slumber.
Thinking perhaps that a simple change in her position might help her to doze off, she turned to her right, away from the steel wall that she'd been facing.
And found herself staring at Daryl's sleeping back from where he lay, no more than a foot from her, shaking slightly, twitching every few seconds and tossing often in dreams that looked to be far from peaceful. She sat up at a sound that she'd never imagined coming from the gruff hunter.
A small, pained whimper broke free from his lips, followed by a shudder.
Unable to help herself, Carol moved closer beside him, using all her willpower to keep from soothing him as she took in his expression, brow trembling, lower lip quivering, his whole body wrapped in a thin, cold sweat. The lines of his face were crinkled with worry, everything about his sleeping form tense, anxious.
Terrified.
She'd often read about how peaceful a person's face supposedly looked when they slept, calm and still, free of troubles.
She'd witnessed it, to an extent, with Sophia, seen nights when she looked just like any happy, normal, dreaming child should.
But she'd also witnessed times when her baby seemed to be fighting endless battles, a war the whole world had waged against her, constantly kicking and squirming until Ed threatened to go in there- see what all the racket was himself- and she woke up with a shrill scream.
The later seemed to be Daryl's fate as he fought, fidgeting and shivering against the ripped quilt, grabbing handfuls of the blanket in his fist, twisting and tugging at it desperately- his movements not dissimilar to those of a drowning man.
Carol had to look away a moment when he yelped, the sound bringing to mind when Ed had kicked her down the stairs, the noise she'd made when her ribs snapped on that bottom step. She wanted so badly to console Daryl, to take his mind from it's current torment.
It would only make things worse, she thought, knowing how he'd flinch away, jump back from her touch almost fearfully.
She couldn't help him, not now at least and as she watched him groan and convulse she could of sworn that it was killing her.
Then, as if at his own limit, Daryl snapped awake, panting, eyes glancing around in a panic, still shaking, almost hyperventilating, his hand grasping Carol's wrist from where it rested beside him almost instinctively, gripping tightly.
Carol winced at the tightness of his hold, the determination and anxiousness with which he clasped onto her.
Taking in the sight of him, pale, trembling, breathing in quick, frightened gasps, she let him latch onto to her, ignoring the soreness while he pulled himself from the nightmare and into reality. It took a few minutes and her wrist was tender by the time he let go, the skin red from his hold, throbbing lightly.
He pulled away then, silently, eyes cast downwards, covering himself with the quilt again, giving a single, curt nod before turning towards the wall.
Carol didn't mind his silence and despite the twinge in her wrist, she felt herself drift off.
Neither of them woke again till morning.