AN: Here we go. This little oneshot is a reunion fic written by request from serpetinefire. I could probably write about a thousand different versions of the reunion (as I know many people have), but this is one that goes along with a particular idea/line that she picked out of a prompt list. I hope it's what she had in mind.
And I hope anyone else who reads it enjoys it too.
This is for season 7, so all spoilers until then apply.
I own nothing from the Walking Dead.
I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
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There was a certain amount of peace to be found sitting in front of the crackling fireplace. The sound could transport her back to a place and time that was entirely unlike the one she occupied now. It reminded her of her grandmother. It reminded her of holidays and family. It gave her a kind of warmth that even the flames didn't provide.
It was one of the few sources of peace that she'd found as of late, even if it was found in one of the most unlikely places.
Ezekiel kept his promise to her that he would provide her with a place of quiet, solitude, and healing, while meanwhile keeping her as part of the Kingdom. The house she lived in was comfortable, she had more than enough food to eat, and she was surrounded by comforts that even seemed out of place in a world that she'd come to regard as nothing but cruel. Others must have known that she was there, and they must have been keeping some kind of watch over her, because nobody ever bothered her. Ezekiel and Morgan were the only two people who ever came to her door, and both only came to bring food and offer conversation and company if Carol was inclined to accept it.
Some days she accepted it, but most days she didn't.
It was the first time in her life that Carol was completely alone and learning to be comfortable with herself in that state.
She didn't have to take care of anyone but herself, and that care was minimal. She didn't have to worry about what might happen. She had very little attachment to the Kingdom and to the people there. She was purposefully distant so that when the inevitable happened, it wouldn't crush her world to an even finer dust than it already was.
She lied to herself and told herself that it wouldn't bother her at all if everyone there was killed and the Kingdom was destroyed.
Carol was building an existence where she was alone, yes, but alone was going to be the only way that she could survive without getting hurt—and without causing hurt.
Sitting near the fire, pretending to read a book whose pages she turned without having any idea of the plot that was supposed to be unfolding before her eyes, Carol could lie to herself. She could tell herself that she was, finally, happy.
It was almost dark outside—the time of day when everyone was heading for safety instead of being out wandering around because it was more difficult to see dangers in your surroundings—when Carol was drawn out of her almost meditative state by a knocking at the door. It was too late for Morgan to come around, but Ezekiel—usually out walking with Shiva—seemed to feel more secure than others being out after dark.
Carol somewhat reluctantly closed her book and put it on the coffee table before she got up and walked to the door. She peered through the dirty glass of the door and her heart felt like it came to a screeching halt in the beats that she'd learned to expect from it. She stood there for a second and wondered if it might even be a hallucination. But then it was clear that he saw her too.
He knew she was there. Somehow he'd found her and he knew that she was there.
Carol turned the knob and opened the door. She stood with the door opened only far enough to allow her body to be visible. Face to face with him again, Carol was finding it difficult to breathe. She was feeling the return of the suffocating sensation that she'd run from before. She shook her head gently, not even able to put words behind the gesture.
He just stared at her. His expression was a slightly pained expression—the kind of look that she hated to see on his features—and he looked like he was having as much trouble breathing as she was. It was clear, looking at him, that the time they'd been apart hadn't been kind to him.
The world had never been kind to him.
"You keep gettin' away from me," he said.
Carol swallowed. She found her voice, though it felt like it was quite deeply buried inside of her.
"You keep finding me," she said.
"Told you I would," Daryl said.
They stood there for a moment, neither of them seeming to know what to do, with the door partially between them. The threshold to the house was the threshold between their worlds. Finally, Daryl broke the silence.
"You gonna let me in or...?" He asked.
Carol backed up and let him come inside the sanctuary that she'd built for herself out of the walls of the house and the lies she comforted herself with inside those walls. His boots sounded heavy and foreign on her floors. The smell of him hung around him, making him all the more real inside the dream world that Carol had built. She didn't dare to touch him, so she backed away from him, keeping enough distance to try to maintain for herself that maybe he wasn't real.
He looked around the living room of the house. He walked toward the fireplace and stopped a moment, watching the flames crackle there. He reached and touched a piece of the wood in the woodpile. Then he turned and looked at Carol.
"Nice place you got here," Daryl said.
"How did you find me?" Carol asked.
He shrugged his shoulders and took his time finding a response.
"All the communities around here are connected," Daryl said. "I didn't figure—you'd be in any of 'em. When I heard you were gone? You'd been gone long enough that—I figured that might be it. You'd just be...gone." He shrugged his shoulders again. "I 'bout give up. But then I saw Morgan and he told me—said he knew where you were." He laughed to himself. "Thought I was gonna have to wrestle the damn tiger to get that asshole that calls himself a king to let me get here." Carol shook her head, not able to stop the movement. It was the only reaction that she could have. "I woulda," Daryl said. "If it's what—I had to do."
"You shouldn't have come here, Daryl," Carol said.
"Where else was I going?" Daryl asked.
"You need to stay with the group," Carol said. "You need them. You're happy with the group."
"I don't know how long you been in this house," Daryl said. "But the group? It ain't what it used to be. It ain't—what you remember it being. Shit fell apart, Carol. Right about time you left." Daryl laughed to himself. "Maybe you was the one holding it all together. I don't know. Just know—it fell apart."
"What'd you come here for?" Carol asked.
Daryl stared at her in the way that he had of looking at her like he was trying to catch a glimpse of her soul. He dropped his eyes, finally, and finished his makeshift tour around the living room of her little house. His hand trailed out, every now and again, to touch something before he continued on. By the time he'd stopped, he'd made a circle around the space and ended up coming back to stand in front of Carol who was turning her body with him as he moved—always keeping herself facing him.
"You," Daryl said. "I guess. I come here...for you."
Carol sucked in a breath. She shook her head at him again, this time finally fully aware of why her body seemed so inclined to make such a gesture.
"I'm not going back with you," Carol said. "I can't. I won't."
"They're your family," Daryl said.
"I'm my only family now," Carol said. "That's just—how it has to be. I can't be with the group, Daryl. If I'm with the group? I have to—I need to protect them. Protecting them? It's destroying me."
Daryl dropped his head and nodded at her. Then he looked around the space of her living room again.
"You happy here?" He asked.
"Yes," Carol said. "I am."
"You happy—alone like this? Stuck out away from everybody else?" Daryl asked.
Carol swallowed.
She'd never loved the idea of being alone. Never. But she could lie to herself, because she believed it was the best thing for her, and tell herself that she was happy.
"Yes," she said. "It's the best thing for me."
"Didn't ask you if you thought it was the best thing or not," Daryl said. "Asked—if you was happy."
"Yes," Carol said, sticking to her story. "I am."
Daryl sucked his teeth and nodded his head.
"Fine," he said. "OK. That's what you want? I'll stay here. We both will. Where they don't bother us. They don't—know where we are. Is that what you want?"
"You can't stay here!" Carol said, trying to stress her unspoken message through stressing the words. "You aren't even supposed to be here!"
Daryl looked like she'd have caused him less pain if she'd gone directly to the wood pile and selected one of the large pieces of wood that he was admiring to use as a weapon against him.
"Can't lose you," Daryl said. "Ain't that what you said? Can't lose you. I keep losin' you. But—I ain't losin' you again."
Carol shook her head at him.
"You can't be here," she repeated. "Nobody can. I can't be around people. I can't be around you. I have to be by myself. You don't understand."
"I don't," Daryl said. "And I ain't gonna understand until you explain it to me. So how about—you just explain it to me? We got all night. Hell—we got as long as you need. Explain it to me, Carol."
Carol sucked in a breath and held it to calm her nerves. She closed her eyes to block out the sight of him—to block the sight of anything. She could never fully block, though, the visions that were always there and just behind her eyelids. She was nervous because just having him there reminded her of the things that she felt compelled to do to protect those that she loved. Just having him there reminded her of how dangerous she could be if she felt that violence was the only answer to a problem.
She would do what she had to do. She did what needed to be done. And doing those things was eating her alive more surely than any Walker could.
Carol jumped when she felt his hand on her arm. He squeezed her arm affectionately. She hadn't even heard him take the few steps that were required to close the space between them.
Keeping her eyes closed so that she couldn't see his pain—a pain that she'd want to remedy at whatever cost to herself—Carol tried to explain it to him.
"I don't want to explain it all to you, Daryl," Carol said. "Because—explaining it all? Would mean that I had to tell you everything. And you don't need to live—you don't need to live knowing what I know. I'm dangerous. I'm too dangerous. And you don't need to be around me. Because—if you're here? I'll do what I have to do to protect you. And that will kill me."
Daryl kneaded her arm muscle in his hand and Carol's head swam a little at his touch.
"What if I didn't need you to protect me?" Daryl asked. "What if—I told you I was here to protect you?"
Carol shook her head and opened her eyes to him.
"It doesn't work like that," Carol said. "Sooner or later? The time will come when I'll have to do something—and I can't kill again."
Carol saw his throat bobbing. She saw him working over his thoughts like he was chewing something when there was nothing in his mouth to chew and swallow.
"You send me away," Daryl said. "And you will." Carol shook her head at him and he nodded at her.
"Don't do that to me..." Carol said.
"it's what you're doing to me," Daryl said. "If you send me away? You will," he insisted. "Because—I can't live without you no more. Don't want to. And—I won't let you go this time."
Carol couldn't respond to him besides shaking her head at him because she didn't want to speak and risk losing what composure she had over herself. Daryl looked at her, his face drawn up, and finally licked his lips before he continued speaking again.
"Tell me whatever you gotta tell me," Daryl said. "The shit I've seen? I can handle it. Whatever it is. I ain't gonna think no less of you. We've done what we had to do. Tell me—tell me everything. And then we start over."
"We don't get to start over," Carol said. "We can't."
"We can," Daryl said. "And we do. We start over right here. Tonight. You and me. You tell me—everything you gotta say and we just start over."
"Fresh starts are nothing but—make believe, Daryl," Carol said. "They're just like the Kingdom. They're just—make believe and fairy tales."
Daryl looked around him again and settled his eyes back on her.
"This is make believe," Daryl said. "This? It's a fairy tale. What you got here? How you're livin'? It ain't real. I'm just askin' you to let me be a part of it."
The feeling of suffocation was growing stronger for Carol. For as long as she could remember, she'd dreamed of hearing Daryl say words just like those. She'd waited for it and hoped for it. She'd thought that she could find some happiness if she could love him openly and freely—if she could feel that he loved her back just the same way. And now, when she most needed to be by herself, he was finally saying the things that she'd longed to hear. He finally wanted to be a part of her world when she felt that it could be the worst thing for both of them.
"I'm not good for you," Carol said.
"I'm no good without you," Daryl responded.
Carol was losing her resolve and she knew it. She worried that he could see it.
"You can't stay here," she said. "You have to go."
Daryl hesitated a moment, but finally he nodded his head. He raised his hand and touched Carol's cheek. She meant to pull away from him—but she couldn't. His touch was something she dreamed about. She couldn't refuse it, even when she thought it was for the best. Seeing that she didn't flinch, Daryl wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a hug. Telling herself that it was a hug goodbye—a final farewell—Carol sunk into the hug and closed her eyes, trying to memorize for herself the feeling of his body against hers. Daryl simply tightened the hug and held her there long enough that Carol finally pulled them apart.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm so—sorry. But you have to go."
Daryl nodded his head again, hesitating to move as he stood in front of her.
"I'll go," he said. "But—when I go? I ain't comin' back." Carol forced herself to nod her understanding. She lied to herself, as she'd done so many times before, and told herself that's what she wanted. She wanted him to go. She wanted him not to look back. "Before I go, though," Daryl said. "There's—one more thing I gotta say. One more thing—you gotta know. And one more thing I gotta ask you."
Carol set her jaw.
"Go ahead," she said.
"I love you," Daryl said. He almost looked angry as soon as the words had come out. "I love you," he repeated. "There—I said it. Never said it before. And I meant—to say it a couple hundred times."
"You said it," Carol said, very nearly choking on her own words. If he didn't leave soon, she wasn't sure she was going to hold off on her tears.
"And I'ma go," Daryl said. "Because that's what you want. 'Cause you don't feel the same about me. So I'ma go. But—before I do? I just gotta ask you...that really what you want? You want me to go? You don't feel the same way about me?"
Carol covered her mouth. One sob escaped before she could catch it and push it back. She got herself together, though, before more could make their way out of her body.
"I wish I could lie," Carol said. "I wish I could lie to you about this. I wish I could lie—I wish I could lie to me about this. I've—always been good at telling lies. Even to myself." She sucked in a breath, trying once again, to get control of everything that felt like it would come pouring out of her. She shook her head at Daryl. "But I can't lie about this. I love you. I have—for so long. But I'm not good for you. And you being here? It's not—good for me. I can't go back."
Daryl stepped forward and caught Carol in a stronger embrace, even, than the one he'd used to hold her before. She felt herself relax, just for a moment, wrapped in the strength of his arms. He held her like he would hold her up—like he'd support her. He held her like she didn't even need to stand on her own two feet any longer. And Carol relaxed into the embrace.
"Then you don't go back," Daryl said. "But you don't tell me what's good for me and what ain't. I know what's good for me. I didn't come here for you to protect me. You wanna stay here. Right here in this little dollhouse you built for playin' pretend? Then right here is where the hell we gonna stay. Play pretend together if it makes you happy. But—I won't leave. Not until you can tell me that—that you just don't love me no more and you just don't want me around."
Carol let go of another of the sobs, swallowing quickly to keep others from following after it. A little ashamed of herself, she wallowed her face against Daryl's chest, but he didn't reprimand her for it.
"I can't say that," Carol said. "I can't. I do love you. I do want you here."
Daryl rocked her a little where they stood.
"Then right here's where I'm stayin'," Daryl said. "It's where we'll both stay. I ain't leavin', and I ain't never gonna let you go."
Carol sighed, appreciating the almost smothering strength of Daryl's hold on her body, and wrapped her arms tightly around him like she was the one trying to hold him into place.
Those were the words she most needed to hear. And in everything else—all the fantasy that she was creating for herself—they were the only thing she believed to really be true.