Anything recognizable is the property of the appropriate owners. I do not make any claim to ownership, nor do I make any money from this.
Note: I have not seen past Season 4, Episode 9: After.
Carol dared to raise her eyes to check the campsite, catalogue of the locations of her companions, and scan for any walkers. Someone glanced in her direction and she instantly shot her eyes back to the shirt she was stitching up. For some unfathomable reason, the group didn't seem to mind her presence, if anything, they seemed to actually welcome her, all except Daryl. But he didn't seem to welcome anyone, even his own brother. The hunter seemed to deliberately put off anyone who had the audacity to speak to him, always snarling like a beaten dog. Except, she mused, he didn't seem to cower and bark in fear, it was more like he knew his own worth and found everyone else lacking. Which was all the more impressive since he didn't come off as arrogant.
The meek housewife glanced up at the campsite again, making sure Sophia was still near the fire with Carl before scanning the edge of the trees. Couldn't be too careful when the walkers could come out of the woods at any moment. And it was the direction the surly hunter had gone just as the sun was cresting the horizon. There was something compelling about the rough man that intrigued Carol, not to mention that he had saved her life the night the walkers overran camp. She was old enough to know better, but young enough to admit that he was quite handsome under the dirt seemingly permanently streaking his face and arms, but the lessons Ed had beaten into her skin were too fresh. Suddenly, she realized she was actually looking at the bare armed man standing among the underbrush. She gasped in horror at being caught and ducked her head again.
Daryl stepped out of the brush and untied his string of kills, still watching the mousy woman stitching the seams of one of his shirts where he had ripped off the sleeves. She confused him, seeming so basic and unremarkable most of the time, but then doing something that showed a deeper facet than beaten housewife, like she was fractured, but not broken. He would be lying if he didn't want to see more of the side of her that had made her demand the axe from his hand when she hadn't even been able to speak three words to him before. The hunter dropped the rodents he had managed to find next to the fire where someone would prepare them for dinner and glared at the sun resting high in the sky for a moment. Dixon made a great show of delivering the kills, knowing it would make the lightly greying woman look up, and sure enough, he caught a sliver of her blue eyes before they dipped back down to the fire.
"I'll clean them as soon as I finish this." Carol indicated the shirt in her lap, belatedly realizing it was one of his and feeling the heat rush to her face as she had wanted it to be a surprise. She mentally berated herself for steeling herself for the smack that would have landed if she had spoken to another man in front of Ed. It was still so new to be free that she hadn't managed to break out of her habits yet.
"What're ya botherin' with that fer?" He asked, genuinely confused. Daryl went out of his way to piss people off so he wouldn't have to deal with them, yet she still laundered his clothes with everyone else's and did up the torn edge of his shirt so it wouldn't unravel, same as if she were patching one of Grimes' uniforms.
Carol wasn't sure how to answer his question, so she cleared her throat quietly to buy time before falling back on her ingrained responses. "I've got to be useful somehow."
He knew it was a throw away self deprecating remark, but it struck him as true. She probably felt about as useful to everyone's survival as her little girl. But before Daryl was required to come up with a response, Sophia trotted over and he made his escape back into the shaddy cover of the woods. It was one of the longest conversations he'd had with the petite woman and he couldn't get it out of his head as they continued trekking through the miserable sun towards the CDC. As well as Daryl could figure, Carol was one of the hardest working out of the lot.
The short haired woman was up at the break of dawn scraping together enough to feed everyone, then getting the children roused and dressed for the day. After that, she either lugged the buckets of laundry to the nearest water source, or brought water to camp in order to start washing clothes and dishes. By the time noon rolled around, Carol would have prepared any game he brought in for lunch before washing even more dishes, limited as they were. All this with only sporadic help from the other women, and hardly never by Lori Grimes now that her husband was found. And the men were just as bad. Seemed like each of them had taken a role in the group like lookout and mechanic, but didn't do much outside of that. Without a doubt, the slightly older woman did the absolute most work keeping all of their lives comfortable with warm dinners and mended clothes along with child care and all without a word of complaint. That showed a different kind of strength that was uncommon to find in his experience.
Of course, not much changed when they reached the CDC. Even when given the chance to relax in the first safe haven they had found since the turn, Carol bustled through their rooms for clothes to patch and supplies to distribute. She never paused for breath but always had a smile on her face, even for him despite his sour attitude. He knew what Ed did to her, his punishments, so he figured she was just happy not to be hit any more, and that she didn't have to worry about Sophia being abused either. But somehow it warmed Daryl's heart that someone didn't care about his rough attitude, it having been far too long since anyone had bothered to even smile at his presence. Unfortunately, Daryl's wandering thoughts distracted him how much wine he imbibed along with everyone else. He'd never been a lightweight, but the months since his last drink and being swept up in the high spirits of the room lead to a distinct drunkenness.
That was the only way he could explain the way he seemed to always find his eyes wandering back towards the short haired woman. He observed the demure way she sat, legs crossed daintily, elbows tucked tightly to her sides. She plucked at the sleeves of her light cardigans when she was nervous and Carol regularly scraped extra servings from her own plate onto Carl and Sophia's when they weren't looking. For some reason he was entranced by her seemingly endless selflessness. It was a refreshing change from the two-faced lies of his family, almost blinding in her purity and the hunter caught himself sniffing the air when she passed him in the hallway after her shower, savoring the bright clean scent of her wrapped up in the light citrus of her shampoo.
Daryl nursed the last of the bottle in his room next to Sophia and her mother, trying not to listen through the wall as they settled down for the night. He couldn't believe that the greying woman was truly that good, especially after living with Ed for so many years. The hunter wanted to find out just how pure she was, wanted to find her breaking point and push her past it. Drunkenly, he imagined what it would take to make her scream, how he would worship the sounds ripping out of her throat. Wine wasn't what he really wanted and Dixon ran his tongue idly over his teeth, counting the familiar bumps and ridges without thinking about it. Carol would be so much fun to play with, and he was tempted to find out, but then he remembered the genuine smiles she had given him every time he brought meat for her to prepare, or even when he returned safely from a run and he couldn't bear to lose the brightness it brought to his day. At least the wine prevented him from continuing that line of thought, dragging him into its alcoholic stupor.