Author's Note: A version of their reunion after the Alexandria herd is dealt with. Much as I would love to see them melt into each other on sight, I have a feeling Carol has some pent-up rage that angry baking won't even come close to fixing.
Disclaimer: I don't own them, if I did they'd have actual screen time together this season.
She was beating whatever was in that bowl to within an inch of its life. That was the first thing Daryl saw when he rounded the corner and it made him stop, pause just before the entry into the kitchen and watch her.
It was like a scene out of a horror movie. Her white shirt covered in blood, a nasty bruise forming on her left eye and there she stood, seemingly oblivious to it all. That movie was their life now, stuck on an endless loop.
The music was blaring, some upbeat too happy song he'd never heard before, scrounged up from the playlist of previous owners and flowing through the surround sound speakers of her eight hundred thousand dollar free house.
He had seen her in the thick of it like everyone else when he'd first arrived twenty four hours earlier and waded into the hordes of walkers that wouldn't be led away. He had meant to come sooner, to find her and say who knows what, but there had always been more pressing matters. The apocalypse didn't seem to care that he had somewhere to be.
Everyone coped in their own way he supposed. Rick was digging graves like he was being paid to do it, Sasha was pacing the newly constructed temporary fence panel and wearing a rut into the ground beneath her feet, he hadn't seen Michonne since she disappeared into her house hours earlier, and apparently Carol baked. Angrily. Like anyone would want to eat tonight anyway.
The blood from his arm had long since clotted but new wounds were fresh and dripping onto her spotless hardwood. He noticed this too late and moved make himself known, grab a towel, clean up his own mess like it even mattered these days and then the music changed from happy and upbeat to a ballad. Long and slow and sad and she stopped torturing the contents of the bowl just long enough for him to see her falter, suck in a breath through her teeth and throw the entire thing against the wall right next to his head.
Years of fighting off walkers had nothing on that split second of fear he experienced when he thought it might hit him square in the face. He shivered a moment then looked up to find her staring right at him, expression broken, caught between a sob and gasp, hands clutching at the countertops like they were an essential barrier.
He moved toward her before he had time to over think it, rounding the island and coming to a stop next to her. Waiting. For what he wasn't certain but she hadn't even turned to look at him yet.
"I'm fine." She says through a rush of breath and he shakes his head automatically.
"That bowl says different."
The air is thick between them and he knows something is coming but has no idea what. Can feel it circulating as he places a hand on her arm and she very nearly explodes, shoving at his chest, yelling out a string of words that would be hurtful in any other situation if he didn't know exactly where they were coming from. She was fucking fine, didn't need him, survived without him, that was the message and it was delivered violently enough that he did the only thing he could. Grab her and hold on.
If he thought that would quiet her he was wrong because she only struggled more, twisted in his arms until her back was to his chest, bucking away from him. Had she always been this strong he wondered. Just when he was starting to seriously doubt his course of action she raised her legs to the island and pushed. His back collided with the opposite counter and he slumped to the floor, dragging her with him. They landed in a heap against the lower cabinets, tangled together and panting with their efforts.
The fight in her seemed to leave as quickly as it had come, replaced with deep sobs that racked them both. She leaned heavily against him and he lowered his mouth to her ear, whispering that it was just him, that he was here now, that she was ok. Words had often failed him but these were simple enough, a cliffs notes version to comforting the distraught.
She turned into him then, pressing her face into his neck and twisting his shirt in her fingers. The sobs gave way to quiet shivers but the tears still flowed. It was only then that he realized a few of his own had fallen too.
She seemed to notice his current condition now and trailed her hand along his arm, ghosting her finger tips across his injuries. He can feel her about to say something and cuts her off with a gentle "It's nothin'." Realizes too late that he's doing to her what she does to him. They are both always fine. Just fine.
She huffs but lets it go, will probably force him into a chair later and treat his cuts whether he wants it or not but in this moment she makes no attempt to move and he's grateful for it.
"Sam's gone." she says and his heart falls, catches like that moment he walked down a flight of stairs and skipped one by accident. Free falling without notice.
"He's gone and I had to put him down. Just like her." She's distant now, like she's reciting a recipe or talking about the weather. Indifferent. She had never told him what happened with the girls and he often wondered if she ever would, but now he knows. Faced with her inevitable confession he wasn't sure he wanted this information now that it was being offered, but he wouldn't deny her this release. Would carry it all for her if only that were possible.
His grip around her never wavered as her voice filled the now silent room with her story, the music long since played out.
She had said it was worse before and she was right, it was so much worse but not for the reasons she thought. Reasons laced with guilt and shame that belonged anywhere but with her. He was only angry at whatever force decided she could carry so much and still continue to pile on more.
"You did the kind thing. The only thing." The words felt hallow even if he meant them, even if they were true, because nothing he could say would ever be enough.
Her breath hitched against his neck and he felt her press closer before speaking again, her voice small. "I feel so lost, Daryl."
He rested his cheek against her forehead as they sat wrapped in each other on her kitchen floor and said the only thing that came to mind, because the truth was she had already found him long ago.
"I know, but I'm with you and I ain't lost."