Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to the Walking Dead. I am humbly borrowing their characters & some other aspects for my own amusement.
Note: This is set somewhat in the middle of S05:E02 & will be AU (not following the show) there on out.
He had wanted to start over. He wanted to hold on to the thought that the past day's events could be forgotten, entirely. He could kill infected children, watch friends die awful deaths, and put his own Brother down but cannibals. No, cannibals he couldn't wrap his mind around. And the thought that he was this-close to becoming lunch for an entire group of living and breathing human beings, well, that terrified him. He didn't care what Carol did to protect the group during the flu season, didn't see it as a big deal in the light of nearly being bled out for meat. Even for him, that was sick.
He wasn't trying to hit on Carol or give her any ideas when he told her they could start over. He was trying to rewind, back to when he was a little more innocent to what was happening in the world, when only Walkers ate the flesh of people. He wanted to go back to the prison days where he took each day one at a time, focused on runs, on bringing in food and supplies, and on looking forward to the fleeting glimpses of that sneaky smile beneath vibrant cobalt eyes.
Carol would never start over. She would never forget a single moment of her life. He knew it was stupid once he said it, that they could start over, like some kind of child's storybook. She would never erase a single ounce of pain or erase a single honored face from her memory. Even in deaths that she played no hand in, he knew she let their passing scar her soul. He knew it when he had watched her skin rabbits and squirrels, tears in the corners of her eyes as she let her mind fall into the snare of reminiscing. He knew it on those late nights when he had heard her bed springs creaking as she fought to sleep. Yet, despite the weight of the dead, Carol could take on the burden of the deaths around her and still remain dauntingly focused on survival. It was one of the reasons he kept close to her, drew off of her strength.
Hidden in the depths and long shadows of bald cypress, black oak, and river birch boughs, she came to him, just as she always had in the past. The distant firelight flickered across her weary face and he watched her from the corner of his eyes, wanting some kind of smile to tug at her lips but none came. There were cuts in bruises on her milky skin, thin lines around her eyes, but he still found himself startled by her appearance. In these private moments, he felt as he had when he was just a boy, hunting for the first time on his own. That first time he faced a doe and felt there was still something beautiful in his terrible life.
"You wanna talk 'bout it?" he muttered, chin on the butt of his bow.
She shook her head, shifted the automatic on her shoulder, carefully keeping the barrel away from the forest floor. He resisted scooping her back up, just as he had when she appeared outside the fences of Terminus. She wasn't ready to talk and he wasn't ready to confess. He hadn't been thinking of survival or escape as throats were slit three men away.
Quietly, they sat listening to their friends talking, listened to the insects chattering in the trees, and the crackle of the dying fire. The silence was painful, neither able to joke with the other or even make small efforts to speak. One by one, their friends began to find places to lay their heads and pass out, giving way to exhaustion. Rick paced along the shadows on the other edge of the forest, watching and listening, as Daryl and Carol did on their end. He likely would not sleep, they both knew, as he grasped for an idea of where to lead their group.
When the fire reduced to embers and only faint radiance from a slivered moon skittered over their shoulders, Daryl reached for her hand. Her palm was cool against his as her fingers laced tightly with his. He felt her shudder, not in fear or disgust, but comfort. Neither she nor he spoke and when their watch was up, they merely released each other to find a place to sleep on opposite sides of an ancient oak. He watched her curl up under a blanket she had kept in her backpack with his throat tight, wanting to speak with her. He longed to tell her they'd all be okay but he wasn't about to start lying to her now. He sighed, rolled over on to his back, and willed himself to catch some sleep.
TBC...