It was the middle of the night.
In a little house surrounded by a rusty, iron fence just outside of the Kingdom, Daryl Dixon lay in bed, wide awake.
He had awoke for no reason, momentarily disoriented until he felt the warm body lying beside him move. With a rush, the memories came flooding back. He looked down, and in the moonlight that filtered through the window he saw Carol's sleeping form stretched out, deliciously, on her stomach. Her body was naked, barely covered by the sheet, and the sight took Daryl's breath away. He was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that they were finally here in this moment, together, after all these years. Her creamy skin seemed to glow in the pale light, and he couldn't resist the temptation to touch her.
Daryl tentatively reached out, and with a feather-like caress, swept his fingers from her shoulder down along to her hand. Her fingers were slightly curled into her pillow, but as his thumb moved across her knuckles, Carol's hand fell open. The side of his mouth twitched up into a grin and he gently entwined their fingers, noticing how their hands fit together perfectly, like they'd been made to hold one another.
Intense blue eyes flickered to her face, which was turned facing his direction, and he made note (not for the first time) of the light dusting of pale freckles across her cheeks and nose; He knew the pattern reached on down to spread across her chest. Lying in sleep's tender embrace she looked at peace, like none of the horrors of their lives, past and present, had ever took place. Like the dead didn't walk the earth, like she'd not had to witness the losses of so many loved ones, like she'd not had to take lives in order to save lives. Did she even realize just how beautiful and amazing she was? Probably not; Carol wasn't that way. In the same way how she never liked the crinkles by her eyes when she smiled in the dazzling way that she did. Or how, like just a little while ago when they'd made love for the first time, she'd been bashful about the way his eyes had drank in the sight of her body. But Daryl had tenderly uncrossed her arms from her body, and proceeded in showing her exactly how beautiful she was to him.
Daryl sucked in a deep breath as he thought of all they'd endured together over the years. He held it for a moment, and then let it escape him as a low rumble from his throat. The sound reverberated throughout his chest.
God, how he loved her. Always had, the first spark igniting as he'd watched her drive the pickax through her dead husband's head, over and over. It was then that he actually realized there was strength in her, always had been, hidden deep inside. And then he'd watch her with her daughter, Sophia. Seeing them together had made his heart ache in different ways. On one hand it reminded him of the childhood he hadn't had, mostly after his own mother had died in the house fire. On the other hand, his heart ached because he could easily see himself there with them, as a family, as her man and Sophia's daddy.
And then they broke down. When Sophia went missing he'd searched relentlessly for the little girl, even when nobody else did… even when Carol had gave up hope, herself. He had found the old farmhouse where he'd found evidence that someone small had stayed there, sleeping in the cupboard… most likely the lost girl. Beside the farmhouse was the pond, and Cherokee roses growing wild beside it. His heart aching with the need to find Sophia not only for Carol, but for himself as well, he had picked one of the delicate flowers and taken it to her.
She'd been sitting in the RV, back on the bed, mending clothes. When he walked back to where she was, he saw that she'd been crying… She looked up at him with a small smile.
"I cleaned up" she said to him. "I wanted it to be nice for her."
He looked around at what she'd done. "For a second I thought I was in the wrong place" he replied, quietly.
Carol chuckled half-heartedly.
After a moment, he placed a beer bottle containing the white rose on the shelf beside the bed.
Carol looked at him, confused. "A flower?"
He took the blade of piece of straw he'd been gnawing on out of his mouth, then gestured towards gift. "It's a Cherokee rose" he said, simply, his voice warm and gentle. "The story is, when American soldiers were movin' Indians off their land, on the Trail of Tears, the Cherokee mothers were grievin' an' cryin' so much 'cause they were losin' their l'il ones along the way… from exposure an' disease, starvation. A lot of 'em just disappeared. So the elders, they said a prayer, asked for a sign to uplift the mothers' spirits, give 'em strength, an' hope."
Tears threatened to spill down her cheeks, and quickly she wiped them away.
"The next day, this rose started to grow right where the mothers' tears fell. I'm not fool enough to think there's any flowers bloomin' for my brother. But, I believe this one bloomed for your l'il girl."
Carol didn't say anything, he knew at that moment that she couldn't… she was so overwhelmed with emotion from his telling of the legend. How it so strangely coincided with what they'd gone through, and the tenderness his kind gesture showed her. She did smile, best she could, and nodded as she lowered her face to hide tears that fell. That smile was all he'd been hoping for… He knew he'd gave her at least a small amount of hope.
"She's gonna really like it in here" he told her. Then she turned and left.
It seemed like so long ago, but it really wasn't. Not nearly as long as it seemed.
His thoughts back in the present, Daryl let his gaze move down to follow the sleek curvature of her shoulders and on down her back, to just past her hips where the sheet then hid her from his view. He untangled his fingers from hers, and as gentle as a baby's breath, moved his lips lazily down her spine. Her skin was as soft as a Cherokee rose's delicate petal. They were older now, but his love for her had only grown stronger… Now she was his, and he wouldn't ever let her go again.
He loved her with all that he was, but he didn't know if he'd ever be able to utter the words, to tell her exactly what she was to him. How long he'd loved her, why he loved her. Why… There were so many reasons. He'd never loved a woman like this before, and in a way it terrified him, but then he realized. She'd always had his heart. She knew she held it, especially now, and she would keep it safe.
Daryl's kisses reached the slight swell of her bottom and he heard a small laugh escape her before tugging the sheet back up to cover herself. Daryl lay back beside her, and she looked at him with big eyes and bit her lower lip with a grin.
"What were you doing?" she asked him, softly.
"Couldn't resist" he murmured, his voice low and husky. "Just looked too damned temptin.' An' what's all this about?" He pulled gently at the sheet covering her.
"What's what about?"
"Coverin' back up" he answered, softly.
"Daryl," she laughed and with her head gestured down toward her body. "I'm not a young thing anymore. My figure's not what it used to be."
"Stop." He lifted her chin, forcing her to look him in the eyes. "I don't ever wanna hear ya talk about yourself that way again." He tucked a stray curl behind her ear, then slid his fingers down to caress the nape of her neck. "You're perfect."
Carol smiled with a deep blush. "Stawwwwp" she drawled, dramatic and teasing, using his own ploy against him.
"No way" he growled, dipping his head down to nuzzle her jawline, peppering kisses along the way. "Ain't never gonna stop again."
She gasped, surprised, when he slid the sheet from her grasp and tossed it to the end of the bed. Daryl then pulled her against him, enveloping her in his muscled arms. He proceeded to murmur and whisper words of love and tenderness against her skin, letting all of the things he loved and ever had loved about her finally slip from his mouth. Every little thing.