Love in a Hopeless Place
[Narration:]
It's like you're screaming, and no one can hear
You almost feel ashamed
That someone could be that important
That without them, you feel like nothing
No one will ever understand how much it hurts
You feel hopeless; like nothing can save you
And when it's over, and it's gone
You almost wish that you could have all that bad stuff back
So that you could have the good
Yellow diamonds in the light
Now we're standing side by side
As your shadow crosses mine
What it takes to come alive
It's the way I'm feeling I just can't deny
But I've gotta let it go
We found love in a hopeless place...
Shine a light through an open door
Love and life I will divide
Turn away 'cause I need you more
Feel the heartbeat in my mind
It's the way I'm feeling I just can't deny
But I've gotta let it go
We found love in a hopeless place...
-Rhianna
"So what's your deal, Dixon?" Michonne asked as she passed him the last of the roasted critter du jour as they sat around their campfire next to the shack they'd sheltered in the last couple of days.
"Deal?" Daryl asked, taking the rabbit haunch and putting it to his mouth for a big greasy bite. The juices dripped down, catching in the red blonde bit of scraggly beard decorating his chin.
"Girls? Boys? Sheep?" Michonne drawled inquisitively.
Daryl choked on the hunk of bunny he had been in the process of swallowing; coughing so hard that Michonne was afraid she'd have to Heimlich him. When he finally stopped, he looked over at her with watery eyes, scarlet face and an expression of disbelief.
"What the fuck, 'chonne?"
"We been out here almost six weeks, Daryl. We spend almost twenty-four hours a day together—I know that when you sleep through the night then you have to take a hella long piss before you eat your breakfast, such as it is. And when there's enough water and time neither one of us is shy about getting clean in front of the other—and sometimes I think I catch you sneakin' a look—but then the rest of the time you ignore my bodacious charms and go about your business with no never mind."
Daryl snorted at her but didn't disagree.
"When we're back at the prison you seem just as happy to see Rick and Glenn as you do Maggie and Beth—and the last time we were there you spent so much time giving Tyreese shooting lessons that you never did finish helping Carol with that outdoor barbeque grill like you promised..." then the dreadlocked woman's eyes narrowed as Daryl scowled at the mention of Carol's name.
Daryl stood with a grunt and walked over to the big old moonshine still and drew them each a half Mason jar of the clear home brew.
"You sure been keepin' an eye on me." Daryl squinted at his traveling companion as he handed her the make-shift glass.
"What's that new man's name? The one with the two girls?" Michonne asked, seeming to change the subject as she took the shine from him.
"The welder?" Daryl asked in a dismissive tone. He tended to remember people more for what they contributed to the community than for their names these days—there were just too many of them coming in all the time.
"Yeah, that's the one." Michonne said casually, but again watched Daryl carefully. The bowman rolled his shoulders, looking uncomfortable before taking a long pull on the shine, the ease with which he did so showing his familiarity with the potent potable. That shit burned all the way down.
"Samuels." Daryl finally said after a long silence that started to grow uncomfortable. When he'd finally got around to telling Carol he had some free time to help her with the grill she'd airily informed him that Ryan had already used his welding skill to fashion an excellent iron screen for the top of the metal barrels they used to hold hot coals for cooking.
"That's right—Ryan Samuels—he and his girls been spending a lot of time with Carol." Michonne said, taking a sip of the shine and grimacing. Not exactly top shelf Crown Royal...
Daryl's deliberately blanked expression made Michonne's face slide into a slow grin.
"Makes a nice picture—little family group..." Michonne said, continuing to pick at him.
Daryl squatted down, picked up a stick and began poking at the fire, sending sparks up into the dusky sunset sky.
"She lost her little girl." Daryl said, very softly.
And then Michonne knew. Knew that Daryl cared deeply for the woman who'd stepped up to run the camp when Rick had decided to become farmer Grimes. He cared so much that rather than press his suit he'd stepped back when he thought she'd have a chance to have another family, two little blonde girls to replace the one she'd lost. The one he blamed himself for not finding in time.
Andrea had told her the story of Sophia, one of the many tales she'd spun sitting around a campfire very much like this one in the winter they'd spent on the road. The blonde woman had been her own personal Scheherazade, full of personal experiences and observations about her own life and those she'd called friends. She claimed it was her way of paying Michonne back for saving her; now that YouTube and Netflix were off line, she was the best entertainment around. Not that they hadn't found other ways to entertain themselves.
Michonne smiled as she thought back on the first time they had kissed, surprising themselves with it, neither having felt that attraction before, looking at each other with identical raised eyebrows until Andrea smiled her beautiful smile and then it was all so easy, so right, and a hell of a lot of fun to feel something again, to care about someone and want to make them feel something too.
She had loved Andrea, her closest friend—maybe even had been in love with her—and the betrayal she'd felt when the other woman had chosen Blake and comfort over her and the road had led her to lash out angrily when she'd seen her that last time before she died, when the conflicted woman come to the prison. Michonne regretted her words, not because they weren't true, but because they had sent Andrea back to Woodbury, back to her death at the hands of that monster. Their bittersweet goodbye in the basement torture chamber still haunted her dreams. At least she hadn't already been gone and turned before they found her. She hadn't had to put Andrea down like Daryl had to do with Merle.
So she understood Daryl's guilt. Over Sophia, over Merle. Understood why he was out here on the road with her instead of back at the prison with the woman he loved. She understood why he was letting Carol go; believing he was doing right by giving her up to another man.
It didn't mean he was right.
"If I had it to do over..." Michonne began, looking across the fire at Daryl who was still staring at the flames, the Mason jar dangling from his fingers, the stick in his other hand deep in the coals. When she didn't finish the thought after a long pause Daryl looked up at her, frowning.
"What?" Daryl finally asked, squirming a bit under her dissecting stare.
"I found love, Daryl. Even in a hopeless place like this world has become, I found it." Michonne said gently, "But I let my pride and my fear keep me from it."
Daryl's frown grew even deeper, uneasy and unsure of exactly who or what she was talking about.
"I don't want to see you make the same mistake." Michonne said. "So this is your last trip with me."
"What?" Daryl said, looking stunned.
"Take the position on the Council that they offered you. They need someone with your savvy about weapons and defense, your hunting skills."
"While Blake is still out there? You want me to just forget what he did to Merle? What he did to Andrea?" Daryl asked, all squinty and incredulous anger.
"We both know the trail has gone cold, Daryl. And if he does show up at the prison isn't it better that you be back there to help defend it? Protect the ones we care about now?" Michonne said, her voice growing more vehement, "How would you feel if something happened to the people you love while we're out here? To Judith? To Carl? To Carol?"
Daryl flinched back as if she'd taken a swing at him with her blade, landing on his ass, the jar of shine spilling out, soaking into the dirt.
There was a loud rustling in the bushes behind them, galvanizing them both into action, Daryl sweeping up his bow and rising quickly to his feet, Michonne drawing her sword as she stood and kicking out the flames of their small fire.
With well practiced coordination they moved together to flank whatever was coming at them, living or dead, Daryl circling around behind as Michonne advanced towards the bushes and trees. She startled slightly when she heard Dixon actually laugh.
"Daryl?" Michonne whispered harshly, and then something huge came out of the cover and she stumbled back, her eyes wide.
It was Daryl Dixon, and he was leading a big copper colored horse.
"Guess we gotta go back now so Hershel can fix her up." Daryl said, shouldering his bow and running his hand down the mare's neck. She had a lot of scrapes and cuts all over her, possibly even some bites.
"You want to keep her?" Michonne asked, looking at him curiously. She'd heard the story of how he'd been thrown by one of the horses on the Greene farm, part of Andrea's sheepish confession that she'd accidentally shot him.
"She's hurt, alone...I found her." Daryl said, an odd look on his face. He had taken off his belt and looped it through the tattered rope halter the animal still wore and he handed the end of it to Michonne while he rooted around in the lean-to over the still for something.
"I think she found us—must've been attracted by the fire." Michonne said, petting the beautiful animal's soft muzzle. The horse nickered, a warm low sound.
"Like a moth to the flame?" Daryl chuckled. "Prob'ly right though—she remembers people, saw the light, heard us jawin' n' wanted the company."
"Horses are herd animals—need to be with someone, not out wanderin' around alone." Michonne agreed, giving Daryl a meaningful look.
Daryl filled a small metal bucket he'd found near the still with water from the literjon strapped to the bike and brought it over to the horse which drank greedily. Then he dug in the saddlebags on the back of the bike and pulled out a zip loc bag of the trail mix gorp that Carol made for them every time they went out. He dumped a handful out onto his palm and held it out for the horse which used its lips to delicately nibble it all, licking the remnants and the salt off his hands when it finished and then head butting him for more, making them both laugh.
"Either we rebuild the fire and stay out here to watch over her or she's coming in the house tonight." Daryl said, unwilling to let her be walker bait. She'd somehow been lucky enough to escape running into one so far, but a big enough herd could take her down easily.
"First light we head back," Michonne nodded in agreement.
"How on earth did you find a horse of all things?" Carol laughed as she served up some flat bread and two steaming bowls of the stew out of the industrial kitchen sized pot on the big outdoor grill to Michonne and Daryl who sat at the counter. In the middle distance Hershel and Rick were fussing over the animal with Carl and Beth, holding Judith, looking on. The old vet had taken one look at the travelers, thin, exhausted and dirty and sent them to get cleaned up and see Carol about getting something to eat.
Daryl grunted noncommittally, bolting his food as if he couldn't get away fast enough, using the bread to clean the dregs from the bowl and then licking his greasy fingers. Carol surprised him by taking and refilling it quickly, forcing him to remain and eat the second helping or look ungrateful.
"Came out of the woods to our campfire last night," Michonne explained.
"Miss Carol?" Two blonde girls came to a sliding stop in front of them, the taller one calling out her teacher's name excitedly as she accidentally knocked right into Daryl's elbow just as he took the bowl from Carol, sending the hot stew all down his front.
"Lizzie!" Carol cried at the same moment Daryl's exclamation of "GodFuckingDammit!" punctuated his jumping up and holding his tattered shirt away from his chest where he'd been scalded, the flesh already turning red.
Both girls looked owl eyed at Daryl.
"We just wanted to ask if we could go see the horse." the smaller one, Mika said in a meek voice.
"I'll take them down." Michonne said, rising as Carol hurried out from around the counter in front of the grill. "You should have Carol look at that burn, Daryl."
Lizzie and Mika trailed quickly after Michonne's long strides, glancing back over their shoulders at Daryl and Carol a bit fearfully.
"I see you've lost none of your colorful vocabulary skills." Carol said with pursed lips, shaming Daryl for letting loose in front of the girls. "Come on." she motioned for him to follow her, "Michonne's right, I really do need to take a look at your chest."
Both of Daryl's eyebrows went up at that, amused despite the stinging pain radiating out from said chest. Realizing what she'd said Carol's cheekbones pinkened and she turned away, grabbing a clean dishtowel and leading him over to one of the water barrels next to a picnic table behind the eating pavilion.
"Sit." she ordered him and then dipped the towel in the cool water, soaking it, before coming closer.
"Hold this." Carol gave him the cloth, took a breath and then reached out and started on his shirt, fast efficient nurse's hands working the buttons open.
Daryl swallowed hard, glancing around the yard. It was past the supper hour, so that few people were around, and those who were had their attention focused on the new equine arrival, not the interesting little side show of Carol Peletier undressing Daryl Dixon.
Carol sucked in a breath when she saw how reddened the skin was, worried that the scald would blister, increasing the possibility of infection. She pushed the open shirt off of Daryl's shoulders and then held the wet clean cloth to the burn, hoping to arrest the cooking process that the high heat on the flesh had begun.
Daryl closed his eyes and gave a little groan of relief at the cold compress lessening the pain immediately. He'd been burned before, just as he knew Carol had; so he knew what helped and hadn't argued with her even when it meant she'd have to touch him.
"I'm sorry." Carol said quietly, her voice coming from close to his temple and he opened his eyes right into hers.
"Weren't your fault." Daryl said, his voice equally low, drinking in the soft way she seemed to be looking at him.
"The girls are antsy—anxious—their daddy's out on a run and I told him I'd look after them—I should've kept a better eye out on what they were up to." Carol disagreed.
Daryl stiffened at the unwanted reminder of her relationship with the girl's father, Ryan. What she said also uncomfortably reminded him of what he'd yelled at her, long ago and far away, about keeping a better eye on Sophia.
"You'll be a good momma to them girls." Daryl mumbled, swallowing his pain and loss; doing his best to let it go. Let her go.
Carol's eyes widened and she leaned slightly back, studying his face, the resigned sadness she found there letting a trickle of hope start to leak through the dam she'd thrown up against her feelings for him since he'd gone off with Michonne.
"I'll take care of them, just like I do Carl and Judith and Beth, but I don't want to be anybody's momma anymore, Daryl." Carol said softly. "That's not what I want."
"Then...what do you want?" Daryl asked, licking his suddenly dry lips, drawing Carol's eyes there.
"I want you to stay." Carol told him, leaning closer and she felt his ragged breathing against the hand she still held to his chest over the cloth.
"But what about—" Daryl tried to ask, but she put the fingers of her free hand over his lips to stop him.
"I want you to stay." she repeated, raising her eyes to his.
Daryl lifted his hand so he could pull hers from his mouth, and she stood there, waiting for his response.
"Why?" Daryl breathed, holding her hand, his trembling fingers closing around her palm.
His vulnerability stunned her.
"I want my life... and my love... in the same place." Carol said haltingly, her eyes liquid, holding her breath then, ready for him to flee like he always did, overwhelmed by too much emotion, unable to cope. She felt his hand on hers tighten.
"Love in a hopeless place..." Daryl said almost in a whisper, raising his other hand to the side of her face.
"Daryl?" Carol asked, frozen at his gentle tentative touch.
"I'll stay." Daryl said, and felt his heart swell at the smile that those simple words produced on her sweet face. He used his thumb to wipe away a tear that was making its way down her pale cheek.
Carol closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. He used his other hand in hers to tug her closer and she felt his chapped dry lips carefully brush her forehead, the end of her nose. His hand slid from her cheek to under her chin, lifting it, pausing long enough that she opened her eyes to look up at him, wondering why he had stopped.
Daryl was smiling at her. Grinning like an idiot. Happier than she'd ever seen him.
So she smiled back, her face a perfect reflection of his.
And then he kissed her.
AN: I had already posted this on 9Lives, but I thought I'd put it up here as well. I hope you enjoyed it! It helped clear out some cobwebs in my Caryl feels.
My health problems are doing much better with treatment, so writing is a bit easier now too so I'll be slowly updating my Caryl WIPs here for those of you who have been asking about them.
Thanks for reading & reviewing if you have time!