Hey! First off, I am still working on my other fic (Starting Clean), so if you're following that please don't worry, the new chapter should hopefully be up soon. This is the beginning of something I wrote a long time ago and have just gotten around to finally editing. I already have 5800+ more words/three more chapters (with more to come!) for this story that I will be uploading as I edit. This fic is set between seasons 3 and 4 when they are at the prison, but kind of ignores the whole Woodbury thing. I drew a lot of inspiration from 4x01, "30 Days Without an Accident". This fic is really going to be a "slow burn" that focuses a lot on the emotional relationship between Carol/Daryl but I promise it will pay off with some sexytimes after chapter 3. I would really appreciate it if you could take the time to review this if you like it (or if you don't!)
Daryl sat on the roof of the prison, taking first watch. It was chilly, the days were as hot as ever in Georgia but the nights were beginning to cool off as summer the end of summer drew nearer. The sky was clear and bright, one of the brightest since they'd arrived at the prison all those months ago. Moonlight illuminated the forest surrounding their new home just enough for him to spot new walkers emerging from the trees now and again. Muted noise could be heard from within the prison, the low humming of voices as his group and the new inhabitants Rick kept finding wound down for the day. Daryl had been out on a run all day but had volunteered to take first watch, even skipping dinner. He didn't mind staying up, and he enjoyed the moments of respite and solitude up on the roof. He knew it was dangerous to think that they would ever be truly safe and sink into complacency, and especially dangerous to relax too much while on watch, but he couldn't deny that the atmosphere in the prison had changed significantly since they had first arrived. It had been long enough since their last real walker breach that he almost felt relaxed. Almost like he was just working a normal security guard night job at some boring office building somewhere far away in the past.
His thoughts began to drift back to the days he had spent bumming around aimlessly with Merle before the Turn. No sense of purpose but enough security and apathy to keep following his older brother's wayward lead. Their days were simple - find something to eat, find someone to hustle or something to steal, sell whatever they had stolen, find something to eat again, find something to drink or smoke, then find somewhere to crash. Rinse and repeat. He missed Merle. Didn't matter how shitty he could be, Merle was the only one in the world who really cared about him, that what he always told him at least. Daryl found himself staring unfocused into the trees so he shook his head and sat up straighter. Couldn't afford to be thinking about that shit, not anymore. Besides, at least these days he had a roof over his head and could count on regular meals, which was more security and comfort than Merle had ever been able to provide. And he had people, a kind of mismatched family... Rick, who after a shaky start he knew he could trust with his life. Hershel, a kind of wise uncle who sometimes made him feel like he knew too much about everyone. Carl, who Daryl had been surprised to realize kind of looked up to him. Daryl hadn't ever been looked up to in his whole life, and the kid was starting to grow on him. Sweet Beth, who could usually be found cooing over baby Judith. Then there was Glenn and Maggie, a packaged deal those days, solid and reliable. And Carol. His Carol. The unlikeliest friend he had ever made, really the only good friend he had ever had. He couldn't imagine that there had ever been a time he didn't know her, she always seemed to know what he was thinking without having to say anything and anticipating his actions before he made them. Somehow the meek housewife had tested the boundaries of his emotional walls and had come to know him better than he knew himself. Maybe it was his effort to find Sophia that drew them together, or maybe it was just two damaged people gravitating toward each other. Either way, Carol was different from the rest of them. He thought of her more than he liked to admit even to himself. He found himself daydreaming about her fierce blue eyes, her wild tousled hair, her kind smile at almost all hours of the day. On runs he found himself constantly on the lookout for something small to bring her, some little trinket or paperback or piece of candy brighten her day. Most of the time he felt like a damn fool whenever he found anything and usually left it where he found it, afraid he was acting like a housecat bringing home a hunted mouse. Daryl shook his head and snapped himself back to reality. He leaned his head against the cool concrete wall behind him and fished around in his pocket before pulling out a flimsy cigarette and a barely usable lighter he had found during the run. He felt a slight twinge of guilt knowing he should have pooled the lighter with the rest of their supplies. Fuck it, he thought, there's only enough fluid left for a couple butts anyway.
Just as he finished lighting up and took a first puff, he was startled by a sudden metallic clang behind him. He was on his feet and reaching for his crossbow in a split second. Just as he was raising the weapon to his shoulder, he saw the source of the noise. The door to the roof was open, and Carol stood illuminated like an angel in the fluorescent light behind her. Daryl's heart jumped, which quickly convinced himself was from relief that it wasn't an attack.
"Brought you some dinner," Carol said, stepping up onto the roof and closing the door behind her. "You must be starving. Noticed you didn't come down for leftovers after you got back."
Daryl grunted his gratitude and motioned to take the plate from her, noting the care she had taken in piling an extra portion of squirrel meat on the plate and leaving out the dandelion salad she knew he couldn't stand.
"Uh uh," Carol said, eyeing the cigarette dangling from his mouth and refusing to hand him the plate. Daryl narrowed his eyes at her. He knew she hated smoking. Anyone else and he would have told them to fuck off and grabbed the plate anyway, but she had a way of making him acquiesce without much effort at all. Still, he'd been looking forward to that cigarette all day. He locked eyes with her and slowly, exaggeratedly, took the cigarette out of his mouth and flicked it off the roof. She half opened her mouth, probably to reprimand him for not snuffing it first, but he raised his eyebrows as if daring her to pick a fight. She squinted at him and handed him the plate, mouth twitching upward at the corners. Their wordless argument over, he settled back down against the wall to eat.
"What are you doing taking watch? You had a long day and you know it was Maggie's turn tonight" she crossed her arms and looked down at him as if he were a petulant child as he crossed his legs and shoveled squirrel into his mouth with his hands. Carol hadn't bothered to bring him cutlery as she knew he wouldn't use it anyway.
"I know," he said, mouth full. "I offered. Ain't been sleeping much lately anyways."
Carol looked as if she was about to reproach him again, but instead she uncrossed her arms and slunk down the wall to settle beside him. "Me either," she sighed, looking off into the forest, finally allowing herself to relax after an equally long day. Daryl was surprised she hadn't gone back inside where it was warm and he kept noisily chewing as he looked sideways at her. He wasn't going to ask, he knew she'd elaborate if she wanted to. "Almost feels like we're safe," she finally said, echoing his exact thoughts from earlier.
Daryl grunted. "Ain't felt that way since the world went to shit" he said, nodding toward the walkers at the fence.
"Haven't felt that way in a long time," she echoed as if in agreement, but his chest ached at what he knew she really meant. Again, they sat in silence, Daryl's plate clean this time. He expected she would pick it up and take it inside with her but hoped she wouldn't. He didn't mind the company.
"Good run today?" she asked.
Daryl shrugged and replied in his gravelly voice, "Ain't much left out there." It was true, he and Michonne had to venture further and further away each time to find anything worth scavenging. "Got some ammo. Few winter clothes and stuff. No gas though, ain't any gas anywhere, seems like. An' Michonne found some comic books."
Carol laughed. Here, at the end of the world, people could still find escape in comic books. She had seen Carl and Michonne making trades between their comic stashes on the way up to the roof. She had paused and watched them fondly for a moment, before feeling a familiar dull ache twist at her insides. Sophia had loved comic books and left them strewn everywhere, which Carol had forever harped on her to clean up.
"Funny, the things you miss," she said wistfully.
Daryl nodded, though he didn't entirely relate. Besides the whole world going to shit thing, he actually found that he was wanting for less these days than before the Turn. Hunting, tracking, and scavenging was what he had always been used to and good at. Nowadays he was still doing all that but also had a stable home to come back to at the end of the day. That was certainly a novelty.
"Nah, I don't miss much," he said, fumbling with his fingerless gloves. The left one had the beginnings of a tear along one of the seams. Carol reached suddenly for his hand, causing him to flinch away. She paused and he felt the heat rise to his face. Of course she wasn't gonna hurt him, but old habits die hard. At least with Carol, he never felt embarassed long. She didn't look at him like the others did, with pity when he reacted like that, or with fear when he lashed out. Her crystal blue eyes just met his with a look of understanding, a mutual solidarity as she waited for him to relax. She gently took his left hand in hers and slid the glove off, her creamy smooth hand out of place against his rough and calloused one.
"I'll mend this and have it ready for you tomorrow" she said, a statement rather than a question. Daryl knew there was no use arguing with her anyway.
They once again sat in silence as they surveyed the acres around them. Daryl knew he should tell her to go inside, it was late and getting cold, but he couldn't bring himself to. Selfishly, he wanted her to stay, which he rationalized by telling himself that she could make her own decisions. That much had become more and more apparent over their past few months at the prison. Secretly, he was proud of her. She was a model of not only surviving but thriving even after the abuse she had endured. Carol abruptly interrupted his wayward train of thought.
"You know what I miss?" she blurted. "From before?"
"Hmm?" he asked.
Carol leaned her head back against the wall and smiled one of her disarming half smiles as she answered, "Wine."
"Wine?" Daryl drawled. He scoffed and shook his head. "Of all the fuckin things, woman."
She kept smiling. "Yeah. here isn't much left that I wouldn't give for a nice bottle of wine."
Daryl just looked at her, brow furrowed quizzically. Carol giggled slightly and he cracked a small smile.
"I used to love wine," she continued. "Usually had a glass or two in the evenings. Used to take my mind off…" she faltered. Daryl nodded. He knew. Just as he had flinched earlier, Carol had exposed a small part of her painful past to him, something she was careful not to do around others but let her guard down around him, and their moment of lightheartedness was gone. Carol drew her knees up to her chest, shivering slightly in the chilly air, and Daryl was suddenly very aware of the couple inches between them that seemed to burn with static. The urge to be near her, to comfort her, was overwhelming and he had to hold himself back from drawing her into his arms. He noticed her shivering and swiftly draped his poncho over her like a blanket without a second thought. She shuffled closer to him until their shoulders were touching and leaned into him slightly, as if to say thank you.
"Aren't you cold?" she asked.
"Nah," he said truthfully. He'd spent enough nights outside that the cold didn't really bother him. That, and he was pretty sure the heat from her shoulder would be enough to keep him warm for the rest of his life. They sat like that for awhile, listening to the cicadas and and distant wails of the walkers at the fence.
"So" he said finally, trying to keep the conversation going in hopes she wouldn't go back inside. "What kinda wine you drink?" Daryl didn't know anything about wine, other than that a bottle and a half was usually enough to knock his mother flat out.
"Hmm," Carol mused, "didn't matter, really. I used to like a mild red but I'd drink anything. Usually just got whatever was cheapest, I never could tell the difference between that and the good stuff anyway."
Daryl nodded.
After a moment she said, "What about you, what stupid things do you miss from before?"
He shrugged, now hyper aware that she had shifted again so they were pressed against each other from shoulder to hip, her legs also angled slightly towards him. His mouth was dry as he tried to ignore the weakness in his limbs that only she could cause in him.
"Nothin'" he said finally.
"Nothing?"
"Nah," he said. "Got everything I need here. Got a roof, a bed-" and whatever he was about to say next he immediately forgot as she leaned her head on his shoulder. Their physical closeness was not something entirely unfamiliar, though it felt different to Daryl that night. It was something more… intimate than the comfortable touches they usually shared. A quick hug here, a reassuring pat there. Daryl vaguely thought that such closeness should scare him, but instead he felt nothing but gratefulness at their easy bond. She let out a small sigh and he leaned his head on hers. It was getting late and she was clearly tired but neither of them were willing to move. Instead, he fell quiet and looked out at the stars, knowing he shouldn't feel so safe and relaxed but was unwilling to tear himself from the moment, from her. He noticed that she must have showered recently, she smelled like soap and sun dried cotton and something unidentifiable and sweet. She smelled like Carol. He sat there with her, breathing in her sweet scent and trying to enjoy the rare moment of stillness, of absolute calm, and marvelling that not only was he sharing it with her, but that she was choosing to share it with him. He had never been comfortable enough to sit in silence like that with anyone, not even Merle.
After a few minutes Daryl felt her shoulder slump and her breathing slow and he knew she had fallen asleep. With his right hand he reached across himself to pull a corner of the poncho up that had fallen down shoulder, slowly so he wouldn't wake her. He gazed up at the stars, trying to gauge how much time he had left on his watch. He guessed he had around an hour before he would be relieved. Daryl glanced down at Carol's sleeping form illuminated by the moon, eyelashes casting soft shadows on her cheeks, before again resting his head lightly on hers. She really was so small and slender against him that he could hardly believe this was the same person who had once been a meek, battered down housewife. The faint lines of her face nearly erased as she relaxed, and he realized that she was never not tensed when she was awake. Her brow was always furrowed, her lips always slightly pursed. How could someone so peaceful and beautiful when sleeping carry so much weight when awake? He felt a tug in his chest, a strong desire to take all the baggage she carried and shoulder it for her. He knew he had his own issues, but he'd take on all of hers in a second if he could, if only it meant she could sleep better at night. He gently turned his face into her hair to breathe her in again and he wondered at how quickly she had fallen asleep. For a second he hoped it had something to do with him, but he quickly convinced himself that she was probably just exhausted. Either way, he would let her sleep until his watch was over.