Fandom: The Walking Dead
Characters: Carol, Daryl and ensemble.
Genre: Gen with a touch of angst
Warnings: Brit/Australian writing about Americans / Ed Peletier being an arsehole (asshole) / unbetaed
Summary: Carol realises she's no longer alone. Set pre-season 1.
Flesh and Blood (1/2)
Ed's careful not to leave bruises on her face now there's no make-up to cover them but eventually he slips up, enraged because she let Sophia stay with Eliza (and she'll do it again and again and again; anything to keep Ed's hands off her baby).
"What did I tell you?" He whispers in her ear, one hand wrapped hard around her right arm the other round her neck, thumb pushing into the flesh above her collar bone.
Carol doesn't say anything. Her cheek is swollen, pushing against her teeth and she can't tell if the wetness is blood or tears.
"Fuckin' pathetic," Ed says, letting her go, and she should be relieved.
Relieved that he's rolling away. Relieved that he's not holding her down, and reaching for his belt. Instead her stomach flips and there's a stabbing pain in her chest as she thinks about the way he looks at her little girl.
Carol waits until he's snoring before pulling on a thin cardigan over her faded singlet. She crawls out of the tent and grabs a cloth and small cup of water. Ice would be better, but it's simply another item to add to the list of things they no longer have. She can just make out Glenn on top of the RV. He waves and she's grateful for the darkness. She gestures towards the forest, like she wants to pee, and thinks she sees him nod in reply.
It's quiet between the trees and for once she doesn't worry about walkers because right now there's no monster in the world worse than the one in her tent. She huddles down at the root of a thick trunk, dips the cloth in the water and holds it to her cheek. It's too late to make much of a difference. She rests her head on her knees and tries to control her breathing as she thinks about what people will see in the morning. What they might say. There's a hole in the knee of her sweatpants and she pulls at it with the fingers of her free hand.
At the sound of breaking branches she's on her feet ready to run before she's had time to think about it.
"Goddamn, stupid bitch, almost got yourself shot."
Carol relaxes when she realises its Daryl, not Merle. Sinks back down and holds the cloth up to her cheek again.
She can almost see him now. He stops about five feet away.
"You takin' a piss?"
Carol digs the toe of her right trainer into the ground. They all sleep in their shoes now and there's no point getting upset or embarrassed by bodily functions.
"No," she says, and sometimes her voice feels so small it's a wonder she can talk at all.
He doesn't ask her to speak up. She can hear him tap the bow against his leg.
"A shit?"
She ducks her head down, not sure how well he can see in the dark.
"No," she says, a little louder. Her cheek aches.
"Then what'n the fuck are you doing out here?"
She holds the cloth steady, keeps her eyes on the ground even though she can't see anything. She hears him move closer.
"I coulda shot you and you've got nothin' to say," he taps the bow against her left knee. "Hey."
Carol thinks about grabbing the bow, pulling it away. Telling him to get lost, to let her be. But she doesn't. She never acts on any of the things she imagines.
He's standing so close she can tell when he tenses up.
"Fuck," he says, "you bit?"
She looks up as he crouches down placing the bow carefully to the side. It's too dark to see his face properly, but she can smell him. Sweat, dirt and blood. He reaches out grabs her left arm and shakes her.
"Show me," he says. "Fuck. You see a geek out here?"
She wonders what Ed would say if she got bit. Whether anyone would look out for Sophia.
"I'm not bit," she says, but Daryl's already pulling her hand away from her cheek releasing her arm to grab the small flashlight he carries. She flinches away from the light, blinks and then it's dark again.
"You ain't bit," he says, and she doesn't know what to make of his tone.
He lets go of her wrist and picks up the bow, taking a few steps back once he's standing again. But he doesn't leave. It's dark and eerily quiet, nothing but the sound of their breathing.
She wets the cloth again and presses it gently to her cheek. He sniffs, and she knows he's rubbing a hand beneath his nose. He does that a lot. In daylight it makes him look younger than she thinks he is.
"That ain't gonna do shit," he says.
She let's out a shaky breath.
"Yeah," she says, "I know."
But she keeps the cool material there anyway.
"Can't stay out here," he says, and she's never heard him talk so much. "Not unless you really fixin' get to bit. Or shot."
She closes her eyes. Leans her head back against the trunk.
"Be a real shame for that lil' girl if something happened to her mama."
Carol looks up at him at that. Struggles to rise, tipping over what's left of the water.
"Sophia is my life," she says, taking a step toward him "don't you dare imply that I would, that I would..."
She can't finish, her chest feels too tight.
"Didn't fucking say that," he says, like he's angry and sulking at the same time, "not like I give a shit anyway."
She can hear him fidget with the bow and thinks about how his grip wasn't hard enough to leave a mark when he grabbed her before.
"Any luck?" Carol says, once she can breathe properly again, reaching forward and almost touching the bow.
"Does it look like it?" His tone isn't as mean as the expression she imagines he's making.
It's been two days since he went out hunting with his brother, and a day and half since Merle came back without him. Knuckles bloodied and shit eating grin on his face. She wonders if anyone else noticed.
"It's good," she says, "it's good you're back."
Daryl snorts at that, takes a step back like he thinks she doesn't mean it.
She does though.
When Merle's passed out and Ed's not around she's seen the way he is with Sophia. Not gentle, but not unkind either. Almost shy when confronted by her daughter's curiosity about the bow. About the wings on his jacket. About the squirrels.
"Why don't you ever bring us rabbits?" Sophia had asked him one day.
Daryl had shrugged, avoiding eye contact as he hunched further over the squirrels he was skinning.
"I just reckon you're showing off," said Sophia, and Carol thanks God every day that Ed hasn't managed to completely smother that spark her daughter carries. "Squirrels are harder to kill right? Bet rabbit tastes better though."
Daryl had stopped and looked up at her, squinting in the daylight and for a second Carol thought he might smile. Instead he said:
"You just gonna stand there, or you gonna help?"
Sophia had wrinkled her nose but had sat down and let him show her what to do.
"It was gross mama," she'd said that night, quiet so Ed wouldn't hear, "but also kinda cool."
"Your brother," she starts, breaking the silence again, not sure exactly what she's going to say.
Daryl saves her the trouble.
"Hunt better alone."
She doesn't ask about why he's come back empty handed if that's the case. She wonders if he's been out there waiting for his own bruises to fade.
"I should go," she says, bending down to look for the cup.
She finds it on the second pass, and turns to leave.
"Wait," he says.
He doesn't move to stop her but she stays anyway.
"Just...this way," he says, slipping the strap of the bow over his shoulder so it rests on his back.
She puts the cloth in the cup and follows, trying to match his quiet steps. He doesn't look back at her until they get to the edge of the camp, when he lifts his left arm to get her to stop.
"Daryl," says Glenn, standing on the edge of the RV's roof, "that you?"
"No, it's a walker, come to end your pitiful attempts at keeping watch."
"Nice," says Glenn," I guess you didn't lose your charming personality while you were out playing Rambo or whatever it is you do when you're running around the forest. Oh hey, you see Carol out there? She left a while ago and I didn't see her get back."
"You didn't think to go look for her when she didn't come back?"
Glenn moves from one foot to the other, always a bundle of nervous energy.
"I just figured she was doing, well you know...Woman's stuff."
"You shitting me?"
"No?" says Glenn, before seeming to notice her, "Oh, you're there. Sorry Carol."
She just raises her hand, keeping her face turned away from the dimmed light of the campsite.
"Well time to turn in," Glenn says, heading for the ladder, "T-dog's up next. That guy sleeps like the dead...that's actually kind of funny you know. I mean that that saying is completely re-"
"I'll take it," Daryl interrupts.
Glenn pauses, one foot on the last rung, the other on the ground.
"What?"
"I'll take watch."
Glenn says nothing, but he cocks he head to the side. Looks at shoes. Looks at his hands.
"You got a problem with that?"
"No. No problem," Glenn says, backing away from the RV, hands raised, "go for it. Knock yourself out. Actually, don't do that. Just watch away. You'll get no objections from T-Dog. Or from me. This here is an objection free zone."
He keeps talking as he leaves voice fading into the darkness until Carol can barely hear him.
"Fucking Chinaman never shuts his trap," said Daryl as he climbs to the top of the RV.
"He's Korean," says Carol, not sure what she's supposed to do now.
"You coming up or what?" Her eyes have adjusted to the dim light of the camp and looking up she can see the scowl on his face.
She thinks about Sophia, safe with the Morales family, and Ed, snoring in their tent, before moving toward the ladder.
She's never been on top of the RV and she takes her time climbing, aware that Dale is asleep inside. She struggles a bit at the top but Daryl doesn't offer to help her. He's already sitting at the front of the vehicle, legs hanging over the side, bow off and to one side. There's an empty chair to his right and in between a collection of objects. Moving forward she sees comics, a tattered book, several granola bars, a bottle of water, a large flashlight and a hand operated horn. The faded patio-style umbrella shade used for shelter from the sun and rain has been pulled down; up close it looks old and forlorn.
Daryl doesn't look at her, just gestures toward the chair.
"There's a blanket too."
She settles in the chair gingerly, before pulling the blanket from under the chair and unfolding it. She shakes it out a few times and then lays it over her legs. She doesn't know what to do with her hands so she wraps them in the rough material.
"I'll wake you before the others get up," he says.
Carol turns toward him in the chair, stretches out and pulls the blanket up so it covers her shoulders and scratches against the bottom of her chin.
"Daryl..."
He gets to his feet, almost graceful as he does a silent circuit of the roof. He sits down again, reaches for the flashlight and turns it over in his hands. She notices that he's careful not to accidentally hit the switch. He clears his throat a few times.
"That...husband of yours," he says, turning away so she can't see his expression, "never seen him up and about before you. So I'll wake you up before the others start makin' noise."
She feels the telltale pinprick of tears and blinks them back. It's harder to swallow the hot sore feeling rising in her throat. He looks down at the flashlight in his hands before glancing in her direction so quickly she thinks she may have just imagined it. She wants to reach out, touch him, make him understand how much this unexpected kindness means. But she doesn't. She never does the any of the things she wants to.
Instead she burrows her head underneath the blanket and closes her eyes. She says "thank you" into the material so that he can pretend not to hear.
He wakes her by tapping the flashlight against her leg. The early morning light is a soft bruise of dark purples, blues and yellows. Carol raises a hand to her cheek; it's tender but only slightly swollen.
"It don't look that bad," Daryl says, but he won't make eye contact with her.
She stands up and folds the blanket carefully, returning it to the space under the chair. She looks out over the quarry and surrounding forest, arms crossed over her stomach, hands gripping her elbows. There's plenty she wants to say but Daryl's quiet and people will be getting up soon so she makes her way to the ground. She pauses at the top of ladder and studies the back his head. It's as reticent as the rest of him.
She slips inside her tent just long enough to deodorise and change clothing. Ed's still snoring. She remembers what Glenn had said the night before and on a violent impulse she stops for a moment. Imagines him lifeless, axe buried in his skull. The thought of him dead makes her stomach roil. Despite all the years of abuse, the way he's torn her down with his words and his fists some part of her still cares. She doesn't want him hurt, just gone, far away from her and Sophia.
When she gets back to the main area Daryl's gone and Dale's sitting in the chair on top of the RV, book in one hand and the binoculars in the other.
"Morning Carol," he says, smile fading as she looks up at him. "That-that looks real nasty."
"An accident," she says, "I fell."
He makes a noise of disapproval, puts the book on his lap and pulls his hat off, his mouth now pressed into an unhappy line.
"Well," he says, "Ed might want to make sure you don't suffer from anymore 'accidents'."
She's filled with a sudden rush of affection at the way he thumbs the edges of the book.
"Might be some ointment in the first aid kit that could help," he says, putting the hat back on.
"Thank you," she says, and he nods in reply.
"Oh," and there's something that might be embarrassment in his tone, "I don't suppose they'll be any breakfast coming up?"
"Actually," she says, climbing into the RV, "I suppose there will be. When everybody's up. I could make you something now though. If you can't wait."
She sticks her head out the door and looks up at Dale.
"That would be lovely," he says, with a small smile, "you're a wonder."
Carol ducks back into the RV so he won't see the expression on her face.
An hour later most of the camp is awake and Lori is helping her to make food for the group.
"I hate porridge," says Lori, stirring salt and honey into the mix.
"I miss Froot Loops," says Carl, "with cold milk."
No one else has mentioned her face. She thought Lori was going to but Shane had held her back, hand wrapped round her elbow as he whispered something in her ear. Andrea's eyes had narrowed but instead of asking she'd spent the morning stroking Amy's hair; calming her sister after another bad night. Jacqui had shaken her head but kept her thoughts to herself. The others had simply ignored it, although they were careful not to look at her face, staring at some distant point over her shoulder when they bothered to talk to her.
"Porridge again," says Sophia, and Carol tenses. "You know its a real shame mama 'cause I prayed real hard last night that God would at least bring us some Cheerios."
She turns to her daughter, but doesn't have the heart to berate her for wasting prayers on cereal.
"Mama," Sophia says in a whisper, and her touch is so gentle as she reaches up to press her fingers against the bruise, "what happened?"
"Just a fall," she says into her daughters hair as she holds her close, "I fell when I went out last night."
"Oh my God," says Glenn, looking absurdly stricken, "I'm so sorry, I should have been keeping better watch. No wonder-"
"It's fine, it's fine," she says, "I was just clumsy."
Glenn takes a seat next to Jacqui, who takes in his guilty posture and shakes her head again.
"How in the hell have you survived this long?"
"What?"
"Are you serious?"
"Why do people keep asking me that?"
Carol avoids making eye contact with Jacqui and hears the other woman sigh.
"Never mind, kid, never mind."
They all hear Ed before they see him.
"Where the fuck's my breakfast," he says, far too loudly, and at the sound of his voice Sophia tightens her grip.
"It's okay baby," she says softly, kissing her daughters hair. "You go sit with Eliza and I'll bring your breakfast over when it's ready."
"No," says Sophia, and there's a fierceness to her tone that both impresses and terrifies Carol.
"Please," she says, but then Ed's there, pulling her around by the arm and she has to grab Lori to keep herself and Sophia upright.
"I asked you a question, woman," he says, and the way his fingers press into the flesh of her arm will leave more bruises, "you been so busy talking shit you forgot what you're supposed to be doin'?"
"Foods coming," says Lori, arm coming up to hold Carol, she's got the ladle in her other hand, brandishing it at Ed like a weapon.
"I don't remember asking you, bitch."
Out the corner of her eye she sees Jacqui stand. Andrea's stopped petting Amy and is watching them, lips pressed together so tightly they whiten at the edges. She can hear the sound of the others moving around.
"It just needs a few minutes more," she says, keeping her head down and voice soft.
Sophia is trembling but Lori's grip around her shoulders is steady.
"You listen to me you-."
It's Shane's appearance that nips the whole thing in the bud.
"There a problem here?"
He's got one hand on his hip the other relaxed by his side. Lori calls it his power stance and they laugh about it when the men aren't around.
Shane's looking at Ed and there's something unnerving about the way he watches her husband.
"Don't make me repeat myself," he says.
"There's no fucking problem," Ed says, letting her go and stepping back, never willing to stand up to anyone he can't beat. Carol wonders what that makes her, if he's always been a coward.
"That's what I thought," Shane says, "and I know I don't have remind you about keeping the noise down in the camp."
There's an ugly twist to Ed's mouth and Carol knows that she'll pay for this later. She squeezes Lori's hand before wrapping both arms around her daughter again.
"You want to help me serve up breakfast?"
Sophia lets go of her gently, looks up and nods her head. Her face is flushed but her eyes are dry.
"Sure mama," she says, and Carol is not sure where she would be without her little girl.
