Then There's You
Rated: K+
Pairings: Daryl/Carol
Disclaimer: It could not be less mine. The Walking Dead belongs to AMC, Robert Kirkman , Toby Moore and Charlie Adlard.
Spoilers: Season 1-3
Summary: Basically, Daryl does a nice thing for Carol.
Genre: Friendship/hurt/comfort
Warnings: There's mention of abuse. Nothing too graphic and probably nothing you can't avoid when dealing with this characters, but still.
Author's notes:I ship them like crazy and I can't wait to see what season 4 has in store for them (fingers crossed for some kind of progress) but at the moment I only seem to able to write these 'stuck in the friendship- zone' kind of fics.
Also, this story is an excersise in ´writing things from Daryl´s POV´.
Part 1
The news had been greeted with a round of applause and a wave of excitement that seemed to resonate all through the cafeteria where they were gathered for dinner. Now that the prison had to accommodate so many more people it was vital to get some facilities up in working order.
Among the newcomers from Woodbury there had been some very skilled craftsmen, one of them a retired plumber and another a female mechanic. Between them they had managed to get a few of the showers back to work. It had been a godsend gift to all of them. To the Woodbury folks who sorely missed the comforts from their former safe haven and to the group of Atlanta survivors and the Greene family, since their last shower dated from back at the farm. The thrilled faces all around made it pretty clear just how much this lucky break was needed.
"Listen up everybody," Rick called above the elated chatter and giggles. "We have currently two showers up, but the amount of hot water at our disposal is minimum, so we need to share. We shower in groups of three per cabinet. We only have enough electricity to heat the water tank once a day, so it's six people each day and we all take turns. It's not much people, but at least it's something."
His words put a slight damper on the mood for a moment, but then he gestured towards Hershel, who was holding a bit of paper.
"Hershel's drafted up a schedule. At least you'll know when it's your turn. The first six people can go tonight."
At this a fresh rush of frantic whispers filled the room again, everyone gathering around the older man, crossing their fingers and hoping they'd be among the first chosen.
"Alright," Hershel started, obviously enjoying his role. "I´ve decided to adopt a ladies' first policy, so here it goes…" At first he called the names of four elderly women from Woodbury and then he turned to the Atlanta group huddling together at the side, continuing with an even wider grin:
"And last but not least: Maggie… and Carol."
From his customary spot on the stairs, Daryl watched the commotion with wry amusement. It was nice to have the showers up and running, and he reckoned he would probably be even more enthusiastic about it when he returned from his next hunt, all covered up in dirt. But looking at the faces of some of the people in front of him you'd think they'd won the damn lottery. Still, he was pleased Hershel had chosen Carol first.
Beth looked pretty crestfallen though, he noticed, although she was trying her very best to smile.
It was only then that he saw that Carol appeared to be less than excited and that her smile was as forced as Beth's was.
Dinner had finished and most of the people started to drift away. As the noise and bustle died down, he could hear Beth ask Carol in a bright voice: "So, are you excited about getting a shower tonight?"
He strained his ears to hear her answer and when it came it confirmed his hunch.
"If you like you can take my turn."
"Really!" Beth exclaimed, her eyes wide with excitement. "Do you mean that?"
"Of course," Carol replied smiling at the teen. "I don't mind"
From where he was sitting Daryl could see the relief flooding Carol´s face and he frowned a little. Something was off, he was sure of it.
"Daddy! Carol says I can take her turn," Beth announced, almost bubbling over with happiness. "I´ll get to shower tonight!"
"That's awfully nice of her…" Hershel said slowly, turning his gaze towards Carol and Daryl felt a significant increase of respect for the man´s sense of perception when he noticed he looked just as astonished as he felt. "But are you sure? You've been so busy lately helping all the Woodbury folks to get settled in… I felt like you deserved it."
The smile Carol gave him was filled with genuine gratefulness, but she didn´t waver. "Thank you, Hershel. I really appreciate it. I'm just not… one for showers. Never really liked them… so Beth's more than welcome to take my turn."
She was lying through her teeth! Daryl reeled to himself, absent-mindedly starting to bite the nail of his thumb, watching the scene unfold in front of him.
As Hershel continued to look unconvinced, Carl suddenly piqued up. "Aren't you claustrophobic?"
"Yes!" The eagerness with which Carol jumped on the excuse completely gave the game away as far as Daryl was concerned.
"Yes, that's exactly it. Confined spaces make me uncomfortable. It's no big deal, I'd just… rather not use the shower."
"Alright," Hershel eventually conceded. "If you're really sure. That means you can go tonight, Beth."
His youngest daughter practically skipped away and Carol offered Hershel a small grin before she started to walk away herself.
Deciding instantly that he was going to get to the bottom of this, Daryl jumped down from the stairs and followed her into the kitchen.
"What was that all about?" he asked under his breath, so no-one else would overhear them.
"What?" Carol asked, turning around, her eyes two blue pools of innocence and surprise.
He wasn't distracted though. "Don't play dumb with me," he growled, sounding angrier than he'd intended. "What's with ya givin' up ya spot for Beth?"
"I don't like showers," she parroted her words from earlier. "Make me feel claustrophobic."
She hadn't blinked once since they started talking and he became more and more convinced she was hiding something.
"Bullshit!" He declared firmly, crossing his arms in front of him.
She lifted her chin defiantly at him. "No, it's not."
"Ya weren't too claustrophobic to take a shower at the CDC," he stated calmly. "Or at the Greene's farm."
"That was different…" she was getting agitated now. "I just don't like showers, what's the big deal?"
He just couldn't let go. Briefly it crossed his mind that he was pestering her much in the same way as she had done to him when they'd been at the farm and he had wanted to keep the hell away from everyone. He could understand why she was getting defensive with him, he just couldn't let it rest.
"We're three year into the end of the world and ya still make sure we got clean laundry. Ya cell's the damn cleanest one there is, probably even cleaner than it's ever been. Ya bathe littl' asskicker everyday… but ya want me to buy ya don't like the shower?"
She took a sharp intake of breath before she started to say something but faltered after a few syllables. Then she looked down, her shoulders slumping a little.
"Can we just drop it?" She asked quietly. "I don't like showers… Beth's thrilled to have one tonight… everybody wins."
He almost left it at that. He hated people digging into his own affairs and she was pretty adamant about her refusal. It was just his gut feeling. He remembered it from the winter they'd been traveling from around, before they'd settled at the prison. It'd been the feeling he got whenever he saw her push her food towards Carl or Beth. Whenever he saw her hand the warmest blanket to Lori, settling for the thin rag herself. That nagging feeling that if he didn't look after her, no-one else would.
"What's goin' on?" His kept his voice soft and watched how her gaze darted back to his, a startled expression in her eyes. And what his logic and arguments hadn't achieved, this simple question did: her resolve crumbled.
"I don't want to share a shower."
He blinked in surprise. That was one reason he hadn't considered and it made little sense to him. Modesty and privacy were luxuries that had been given up on a long time ago. There was little to nothing they hadn't shared with each other in the past two years. Sure, people still adverted their eyes politely when someone was changing clothes or went off into the woods for a second when nature called, but none of them could be called prudish anymore.
Carol rolled her eyes at him as he continued to stare at her, a bewildered expression on his face and tugged his wrist, steering him to the far end of the kitchen where the changes of being overheard where the smallest. She sighed resignedly before she explained herself very quickly and very softly.
"I have a… mark on my back… a little souvenir from Ed." She was deliberately trying to make her voice sound light-hearted, but Daryl already felt his stomach clenching in anger. "I don't know that either Maggie or Beth know the full details about my marriage to him, but I know for sure the Woodbury people know nothing about it and I´d like to keep it that way."
"Would they be able to tell from…" he started, unable to finish the sentence, the anger closing around this throat like a fist.
"Yes, they would," she stated flatly. Then she looked up at him with pleading eyes. "Please Daryl… I don't want to have to explain… it's none of their business… and more importantly, it's not who I am anymore."
He couldn't and would book no argument to that. Despite the close quarters they'd been living in, only Hershel and Carol had ever seen him without a shirt for the very same reason and that wasn't about to change. Still, it did nothing to alleviate his anger. If anything, it only seemed to increase. That good-for-nothing bastard of a husband of her had actually marked her. Left visible proof of his abuse on her. For a brief moment he wondered what he could of have done to her that made it so obvious, but the thought alone made his skin crawl and he pushed it away vehemently.
Becoming aware that Carol was looking at him, slightly apprehensive, expecting him to say something, he eventually managed to grunt out. "S'not fair ya have to give up ya shower because of the son of a bitch."
She smiled her crooked smile and shrugged slightly. "Yeah, well… what´s fair has become a relative concept these days."
To his utter surprise she relaxed against the wall, all tension apparently leaving her body, as if by sharing her reasons for not wanting to shower with him had made the crux of the matter disappear entirely.
"I don't mind, really!" She insisted, her voice light and not the least bit bothered. "I have a bucket and a my washcloth… I'll be fine. It's not like I have been getting actual complains about my appearance. Unless you want to start making them now…"
And with that her grin turned teasing and her eyes started to twinkle and he instantly lost the upper hand in their conversation. The colossal gap between what he wanted to say and what he was actually able to get out of his mouth leaving him speechless and tongue-tied once again.
One day he was going to be able to respond to her teasing, challenging words like he wanted to. One day he wasn't going to stand there like a damn mute, but he would give her a response. Hell, he´d show here one.
Today though was not going to be that day.
Taking pity on him, Carol backed away a little from him. "It's fine," she insisted one more time. "Really, it is."
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