AN: Here's a little Fourth of July one shot. Vannenanne requested this story on Tumblr and I decided to give it a try just for fun.
There is some mention/discussion/allusion to domestic abuse, but there is nothing detailed.
I own nothing from the Walking Dead.
I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
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It was the first "family" trip that they'd taken together. It was supposed to be Daryl and Carol's honeymoon, actually, but it had been Daryl's idea to bring Sophia along with them instead of leaving her in the care of his brother and sister-in-law for the week.
It was summer, he'd argued, and every little kid would enjoy a trip to the beach. Beyond that, the celebration of Independence Day in a place packed full of tourists was bound to offer something to entertain Carol's almost-ten-year-old daughter.
Carol hadn't argued much with Daryl about his plan to take Sophia with them. She'd asked him once, just to be sure, if he was certain that's what he wanted to do, and she'd let him know that he was free to change his mind and have his honeymoon play out however he might want. There would be other trips for Sophia, and he could have some private time between just the two of them if that's what he desired.
He'd insisted that he wanted Sophia to come along, though, and Carol had thanked him profusely for loving her and for loving her daughter—a child that the court system was protecting from her biological father.
Indeed, Carol had thanked Daryl profusely. She'd thanked him with the verbal praise that he lapped up like a man who had finally been given water after suffering from thirst for months or years. She thanked him by filling his belly with food at every meal that he declared to be the best that he'd ever eaten. She thanked him, too, by giving him her body every morning before her daughter woke and every night after she'd been tucked in.
Carol could do something with Daryl that she never would have dreamed she'd be comfortable with before: she could offer him her body entirely and without reservation. She could agree to anything he wanted or dreamed up, always knowing that he would find a way to pleasure her. Daryl would never hurt her. She could trust him. She might have thought that more than a decade of living under Ed—her ex-husband—would completely rob her of the sensation of security and the ability to trust, but Daryl had given that back to her.
And, for that, Carol would give him anything he wanted that was in her power to give.
Though their honeymoon might not have been a traditional romantic getaway, Carol thought the trip had gone very well. As a family, they'd gone through their fair share of sunscreen. Daryl had taught Sophia the finer points of building a sandcastle. Carol had read a couple of cheap and tawdry novels that—for once in her life—gave her ideas to share with Daryl in the bedroom rather than to use only for her own private pleasure. All of them had eaten enough grilled food of every variety imaginable to have sustained them for twice as long as they'd been there.
The fireworks show on the night of the Fourth of July was only supposed to be one more wonderful piece to the puzzle. So, to say the least, Carol was surprised when her daughter reacted almost violently to the popping and snapping of the rockets that whistled and whined their way upwards to explode in the sky and rain down sparks around all those that were watching.
Snuggled next to Daryl on the golf cart that they'd ridden from their rented beach house down to the beach, Carol sat holding her daughter once Sophia had wrapped herself around her like a starfish—arms and legs holding on tight. Carol tried to soothe Sophia at first, insisting that there was nothing to fear, but she wasn't getting through to her. Finally, she'd held her daughter tight against her body and she'd covered her head with a towel to try to muffle some of the sounds around them.
"Daryl, please…" had been all that Carol had to say.
Daryl didn't complain, and he didn't seek an explanation. He simply declared that he was going to get them out of there and that's what he'd done. He'd maneuvered his way around the hordes of people and he'd finally gotten them free from the crowd, never once losing his temper lest Sophia believe that his irritation was directed at her and not at the people who refused to move when he requested passage.
It was the Fourth of July and there was no escaping the fireworks entirely. Their loud and repetitive popping sounded in nearly every direction. As they headed for their house, the sound lessened a little, but it didn't stop. When Daryl parked the golf cart in their small yard, he immediately came around and took Sophia out of Carol's arms.
"I got her. I got you." Daryl reassured both of them as he made the transfer. Carol followed him inside and he took Sophia directly to the small bedroom where she was sleeping for the duration of the trip. Even though they were inside and some distance from the beach, the booming sound of the fireworks was still audible. Carol sat down on the bed and, without a word, Daryl deposited Sophia on her lap again.
"Get her somethin' to drink," Daryl offered as an explanation of where he was going when he left the room.
Carol knew that he was really giving her the chance to spend a few minutes of quiet time with her daughter. He would come back with the drink that he promised, but only once he was sure that Carol had been given enough opportunity to talk to Sophia and to find out whatever she needed to know about what had really upset her daughter at the beach.
Carol pushed the towel off Sophia's face and used the soft tail of her shirt to mop up the tears that wet her cheeks and eyelashes. At the sound of a particularly harsh boom from outside, Sophia jumped and Carol pulled her against her and hugged her.
Carol really didn't need too much explanation about what had upset Sophia, but she asked her anyway. Rocking her against her like she was very small again—much smaller than she actually was—Carol listened as her daughter explained the way the sounds made her feel and recounted the nights that she was busy replaying in her head. The painful memories of those nights were dredged up by the sounds of the fireworks. They were nights filled with any imaginable assortment of crashes and bangs that had never come from something as harmless as the explosion of a firework.
Carol swallowed and willed herself to remain calm and strong for her daughter as she heard her fears. Carol remembered the same nights that Sophia recalled. Unlike Sophia, though, who remembered the sounds from some hiding spot that Carol had found for her in the bedroom—fear for her mother being one of the greatest emotional imprints left on her mind after the fact—Carol remembered those nights from the perspective of the person who fell victim to her husband's rages and, sometimes, provoked him even more to be sure that she remained the focus of his attention. She never allowed him to lose interest in her and remember that Sophia was tucked away in her room.
But Carol hadn't been able to protect Sophia from absolutely every horror. Ed might have never physically touched her, but he'd still gotten to her in his own way. Carol was sorry for that, but there was little that she could do beyond offer Sophia the better life that she was trying to give her now.
Sophia jumped nearly every time a firework popped outside, her body jerking against Carol's, but it was Carol who jumped at a softer sound that surprised her.
"I'm sorry," Daryl said quietly. He was standing in the doorway where he'd only just tapped at the doorframe. He held up the cup in his hand to say that he'd brought the drink he promised—a drink that wasn't really wanted or needed—but Carol could see in his expression that he'd heard enough of what Sophia had said.
He was no stranger to what had happened to Carol and Sophia. Carol had told him. He'd listened. He'd heard her. He'd understood.
Daryl understood, maybe, a little too well.
But Carol could trust him because he'd never hurt her and of that she was sure.
"Soph—can I come in?" Talk to ya?" Daryl asked.
Sophia lifted her head, looked at him, and dragged her arm across her face to wipe her nose. In response, Daryl reached into the back pocket of his pants and produced the faded handkerchief that he carried at all times. Sophia thanked him for it when he handed it to her and Daryl took the exchange as permission to sit. He handed Carol the cup of milk and then he reached and dragged Sophia over into his lap. She moved her legs enough to help him make the transfer.
"I wasn't tryin' to listen to what you was sayin', Soph," Daryl offered, "but I couldn't help but overhear. It's OK, though. You know? Sometimes loud noises—they scare me, too. The important thing is to remember that all the stuff that scared you? It ain't gonna happen no more. Your old man? He ain't around no more. And I promise you, Soph—you listening to me?" He waited for her to nod at him. "I promise you that if you hear me an' ya Ma knockin' around? It's all OK. You prob'ly gonna hear us laughin' too 'cause we ain't doin' nothin' but playin' around."
Sophia swiped at her nose again with Daryl's handkerchief.
"Like with the hose?" She asked. "In the kitchen?"
Daryl reached out his hand and brushed some of her tears away. He smiled to himself at the memory and nodded.
The very first night that Daryl had stayed for dinner at Carol's house, he'd insisted on helping Carol with the dishes. Ed had never once helped her and the novelty of it almost made the polite gesture feel unwelcomed. Carol had practically fought Daryl in response and, realizing what was going on, Daryl had practically fought her to try to show her that letting him help her—on levels that went even far beyond the dishes—could be a good thing. With his hand curled around hers, it had technically been Daryl that had sprayed himself with water, but Carol had still gasped when it happened. She'd nearly choked on the immediate churning feeling in her gut that told her it would still be held against her. Sophia, who had been watching the whole thing, had gasped as well. Daryl had managed to read their reactions and, therefore, he'd been able to think of a way to diffuse the situation. He'd simply laughed, playfully scolded Carol in a tone that couldn't be mistaken for being sincere, and then he'd turned the hose on both Carol and Sophia until they were both laughing in spite of the fact that the floor had to be mopped.
Sophia had almost been won over to Daryl in an instant. Carol could admit, too, that she'd certainly been won over a good bit that night.
"Just like the kitchen hose," Daryl agreed. "You don't gotta be scared no more, Soph. I promise you that nothin' ain't gonna happen to you or your Ma. I certainly ain't gonna do nothin' to neither one of you and I won't let nobody else do nothin' neither."
Sophia was calming down. Carol didn't know if it came from Daryl's words or simply from listening to him talk, but she was calming down she was watching him speak with her lips slightly parted.
The sound of another loud explosion from outside made Sophia jump again. The girl threw herself against Daryl's body. Carol, too, had jumped at the loud and unexpected sound. Daryl diffused the tension of the moment with laughter and rubbed his hand up and down Sophia's back.
"That one got me, too," he said. "Got all of us. We got this thing down deep inside us—it makes us jump, you see? Soph? It's this thing inside us that makes us jump whenever we hear something that's popping real loud like that. Somethin' loud that we don't know if we oughta be scared of it or not."
"I don't like it," Sophia said, sitting up in Daryl's lap a little and showing him her face again. Carol could see the residual tears on her daughter's face, but she appeared to be calm. Most of her most urgent response to the fear had passed.
"It's a good thing we got it," Daryl said. "Helps us keep safe. Makes sure we don't get hurt. Don't walk into a dangerous situation just from bein' stupid. It's just that the thing that makes us jump? It's just some biological thing. It ain't smart. Can't reason. Makes us jump the same over somethin' like a gunshot like it does over somethin' harmless like a bunch of firecrackers. It's us that has to figure out the difference between what's really dangerous and what just isn't a big deal."
"I'm sorry," Sophia offered.
"For what?" Daryl asked.
"Being scared of fireworks," Sophia said. "Making you leave."
Daryl laughed to himself.
"It don't matter, Soph. It's nothin' to be sorry for. I just don't want you to be scared of them because they really ain't nothin' to be scared of. They're just noisy sparks up in the air. That's all."
Then there's always next year," Daryl said. "For now—what if we was to go listen to some other popping? Hmmm? We'll make us some popcorn and maybe start that new movie you got? Looked pretty good…"
Daryl didn't have to work too hard to convince Sophia that his plan was a good one. Sophia scrambled off his lap and ran for the living room. Daryl waited behind for Carol and offered her a hand, though she had no real need for it, to use as she stood up from the bed.
Carol took it with a smile and offered Daryl a kiss before they headed toward the living room to start preparing for the movie that would drown out a good deal of the leftover explosions popping outside.
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Daryl had offered to put Sophia to bed and Carol had taken him up on the offer. The little girl was lost so deep in sleep that Carol doubted she'd heard Carol's goodnight wish or felt the kiss that she'd left on her forehead.
Carol had taken the opportunity to come back to their bedroom and slip into the navy and white lingerie that she'd bought to surprise her new husband.
When Daryl came through the bedroom door declaring that Sophia was out like a spent firecracker—his own joke making him laugh—he'd certainly looked surprised to take in the sight of Carol standing there. She couldn't help but smile when he laughed to himself and his cheeks flooded with color.
"You look…"
"Festive?" Carol interrupted. "They didn't have red, white, and blue. I had to settle for this."
"I was gonna say amazing," Daryl offered.
"You like it?" Carol asked. Daryl nodded at her and Carol smiled to herself. "Good—because it's all for you. I know you were looking forward to the fireworks. And—I can't explain to you how much it means to me that you didn't get mad at Sophia for being scared of them."
"I wouldn't never get mad at her for bein' scared," Daryl said.
Daryl accepted Carol's soft kiss and groaned when she ran her hands under his shirt to prompt him to remove it. He obeyed her silent suggestion. His hands snaked around her and squeezed her ass cheeks hard enough to raise her up on her toes. Carol smiled to herself as she broke from another kiss—this one a little hungrier than the one before it.
"You're so good to Sophia," Carol said.
"Love her," Daryl breathed out. His hands and lips got hungrier on her body. Carol ran her fingers in the band of his pants and popped the button.
"You're so good to me," she said.
"Love you—holy shit—love you," Daryl hissed. His mouth sought Carol's neck and he nibbled and sucked at the skin there hard enough that Carol didn't doubt that there would be a hickey there to hide in the morning. Carol didn't mind wearing Daryl's bruises. They all came from a place of love and appreciation.
"Love you, too," Carol said softly. She nibbled Daryl's ear. She felt the shiver that ran through him and she slipped her hand into his shorts to stroke him. "Come on, Daryl. Let's make our own fireworks."
Daryl laughed low in his throat.
"Don't gotta ask me twice," he responded—exactly like Carol had predicted he would.