Chapter Two
Carol snuggled up against Daryl's back, reveling in the rumble beneath her as the bike sped off towards the north end of town. They'd stopped by her house only long enough for her to change out of her denim skirt in favor of a pair of jeans and her favorite boots, something far more suitable for riding. She'd giggled softly to herself as Daryl had waited below with her mother.
Daryl, sweetheart, you need a haircut.
Daryl, I made cookies … help yourself. If I didn't feed you half the time, I'd swear you weren't eating. You're far too thin.
Daryl, how's that brother of yours?
She loved it when her mother fawned over him, just imagining the blush on his cheeks. He needed all the motherly attention he could get, she thought, grabbing a scrunchie and pulling her hair back into a ponytail. When she'd gotten to the kitchen – where she knew he'd be – he was scarfing down a handful of chocolate chip cookies and chasing them with a glass of cold milk. Her mother had kissed them both on the cheek and shooed them off, calling after them with a warning not to be late for dinner.
Carol couldn't imagine what this surprise was he was so anxious to show her, but frankly, she couldn't find it in herself to care. She was with Daryl, wrapped tightly around him, speeding down the road to parts unknown. Nothing else mattered. She couldn't remember a time in her life when he hadn't been the most important person in her world, or a time when she hadn't loved him. Even when they argued – which wasn't often – there was still that deep abiding love she felt for him to keep her grounded. It was with the onset of teenage hormones which had complicated matters. It was then she'd realized her feelings for him had raced past mere friendship and into another realm altogether. She was in love with her best friend and didn't know how to tell him, so afraid he didn't feel the same way and it would somehow drive a wedge between them. If there was one thing she could bear, it was the thought of losing him.
She shook herself from her melancholy as they left Senoia's city limits behind and headed towards his home. Her heart rate picked up. Daryl never willingly brought her out to the Dixon homestead. He was ashamed of his meager home, a dilapidated three room cabin out in the woods next to a seedy trailer park. As if she cared, but she respected his wishes. Which was why they spent most of their time together hanging out at her house where he felt more at ease. She was even more confused when they passed the road leading to his house and continued trekking north.
Carol tapped him on the shoulder. "Are we going hunting?" she yelled over the roar of the bike and the gusting wind. "We don't have our bows with us!"
Daryl shook his head and took one hand off the handle bars to rest over her own which were clasped over his belly. "Nope. Jus' be patient," he called back over his shoulder.
"Humph!" she snorted. Patience was not one of her virtues.
The trees on either side of the road continued to thicken, a familiar path leading to the forest where he preferred to hunt with her. She smiled, thinking of the lightweight recurve bow he'd given her two years ago for Christmas. It wasn't long after he'd begun working for Jim, and he'd scrimped and saved every extra penny in order to purchase it for her. He'd been so excited, sitting there on the floor in front of the tree, his hair still sleep-tousled and wearing his sleep pants and a t-shirt. It was tradition – after his mother had died – for him to sleep over on Christmas Eve and spend the next day celebrating the holiday with Carol's family. But this was the first time he'd been able to give her a gift, and he'd been so proud.
She'd been after him to teach her how to shoot his crossbow for ages, but it was too heavy for her, and usually knocked her on her ass. Sometimes, she wondered if he loved that crossbow more than sweets. Merle had given it to him for his eleventh birthday when he'd taught Daryl to hunt, and he toted it everywhere with him. It was his most prized possession. She'd looked down at the bow, nestled in tissue paper along with a quiver and at least a dozen arrows with hot pink fletching, amazed. It was the first time she'd ever cried over a gift she'd received. Not because of what it was, but because she knew what it must have cost him to buy it for her.
He'd seen her tears, and she'd had to watch his shoulders slump in dejection, thinking she didn't like it. She'd crawled over onto his lap, uncaring that her parents were sitting there on the couch watching the scene unfold, and wrapped herself around him.
Daryl had banded his arms about her waist and buried his face against her neck. "Please don't cry, Carol. I can take it back if y' don't like it."
Carol had just cried harder. "Don't you dare! I love it, Daryl." He'd pulled back enough to shoot her a dubious look, but she'd been quick to reassure him. "These are happy tears. But it's so expensive … you shouldn't have."
A tiny grin had teased the corner of his mouth as his gaze had sought hers. "Y' needed your own. Cain't have y' keep fallin' on your butt every time y' shoot mine."
He'd been ribbing her, but she could see the relief in his eyes at how much his gift meant to her. It was the same Christmas she'd given him his leather jacket. She'd gotten tired of seeing him in Merle's hand-me-down denim jacket with the holes in the elbows. Carol had fallen in love with that jacket the moment she'd seen it, with its sheepskin lining sure to keep him warm when out on Merle's bike or out hunting. She'd known it had been made just for him.
"Carol …" he'd protested the moment he'd unwrapped it from its shiny silver paper. "I cain't …"
She'd pressed a finger to his lips and shushed him. "You can, and you will. It's rude not to accept a gift from your best friend. Now try it on. I can't wait to see how it fits!" she'd gushed.
She'd been glad to have bought it a size too large. He'd needed the room to grow into it over the next two years. He cared for that jacket much like he did his crossbow, having another treasure to add to his meager collection. But what meant most to her was the time he spent teaching her how to shoot the recurve bow. She knew she'd never be as good as he was, but that didn't matter to her. His time, his patience, his friendship … those were her greatest gifts.
Daryl slowed the bike, turning onto a long winding drive. She stared at the mailbox, even more confused, thinking he was taking her to someone's home. "Daryl, where are we?! We don't need to get in trouble for trespassing. Is this someone you know? Are we allowed to be here?" she asked, the anxiety showing clearly in her tone.
He shook his head, his shoulders shaking with mirth. "Carol, for fuck's sake, would y' calm down? We ain't gonna get in trouble for bein' here."
"Yeahhh," she scoffed. "You said the same thing before when Mr. Dupuy was trying to shoot us full of rock salt that time we got caught in his pasture."
"That was NOT my fault. That was Rick's stupid ass claiming he could hypnotize that damn bull."
Daryl still had the scar on his hip where the bull's horn had caught him when he'd rushed out there to rescue his friend from being trampled. Her father had put six stitches into him that day and given them all a firm lecture of the merits of staying off of other people's property. It wasn't the first time she'd been thankful her father was a skilled surgeon.
He brought the bike to a stop before a modest cabin set back in the trees. It was lovely, she thought, climbing off and removing her helmet. It had a wide porch with a swing, and looked to have been repaired in several places, and the front and side yards looked to be freshly landscaped, several newly planted Cherokee rose bushes lining the front of the porch.
"Oh, Daryl … this is wonderful. Look at the roses!"
"Y' really like it?" he asked uncertainly, wondering what she'd think of the inside.
"I love it. Who lives here?"
He grinned sheepishly, ducking his head at her praise. "Belonged t' my granddad. When he died, he left it t' Merle what with him bein' th' oldest."
Carol gaped at him incredulously. "And you're just showing me now?"
"Wanted t' get it fixed up first. Merle's been sendin' me money t' make the repairs. When he gets home next week, this is where he's gonna be livin' … where we're gonna be livin'," he amended. "I'll be eighteen on Wednesday. I won't have t' live with Jackson anymore."
Carol squealed as she launched herself into his arms. "Oh, my god, I'm so excited. It's like all my prayers have been answered! Oh, Daryl!"
Daryl grunted as her body came in contact with his, a low pained hiss slowly whistling through his teeth, but he wouldn't have let her go to save his life. The feeling of her pressed so tightly to him was a little slice of heaven, and he wished he could hold her there forever. Unfortunately, she pulled away all too soon, tugging on his hand and insisting he show her every inch of the cabin.
"I still don't know how you could keep something like this from me. I really should be mad at you," she said, her full lower lip pushed out in a moue of displeasure.
"I wanted t' surprise y'. I mean … what if our plans had fallen through? I didn't want y' t' be disappointed," he mumbled defensively. "And besides, you'd have wanted t' come out here with me an' spend money on shit y' thought we might need, an' –"
"Stop," she whispered, pressing a finger to his lips. "I understand you felt you needed to do this on your own."
He hid his relieved smile by opening the door for her and flipping on the lights. "They came out today an' turned on the electricity. Gas company's bein' a pain though. They cain't get out here until Monday after next to turn it on. Guess we can use th' camp stove 'til then."
Carol's nose scrunched up in irritation. "You'd think they could get out here sooner. But at least –" her voice trailed away as her eyes lit on the coffee table where discarded bandage wrappers and medical tape next to the open first aid kit had been abandoned. A pillow and blanket were messily strewn over the sofa, as well. "Daryl, did you spend the night here?"
"Yeah … should've cleaned up this mornin', but I didn't want t' be late pickin' y' up for school."
She whirled around to face him, her eyes flashing hotly. "What happened? Where are you hurt?"
His stormy blue gaze found the source of her upset and he cursed. "Fuck! Y' wasn't supposed t' see that."
Carol was already pushing the jacket off his shoulders and draping it over the back of the sofa. "Strip! Don't make me tell you twice, either."
A shiver passed over his spine at her authoritative tone, what blood wasn't heating his cheeks quickly rushing south. With the lurid thoughts he'd been entertaining lately, he didn't know if he could bear having her hands on his bare skin. "Damnit, Carol, I'm fine!" he growled, pulling away from her.
"If there is a need for bandages, then you most assuredly are not fine, Daryl," she hissed, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "What did he do this time?"
"You're not gonna let this go, are y'?"
"When have I ever?" she countered just as heatedly.
"Ugh!" He pulled at the buttons on his maroon flannel shirt and tossed it aside before whipping the black t-shirt over his head. He looked away as she clenched her jaw, seeing the blood seeping through the bandage taped over the left side of his ribs.
Without another word, she led him to the sofa and made him lie down, her fingers gentle as she pulled back the bandage to reveal blood seeping around the butterfly bandages holding his torn skin together. She sniffled, and he cringed, watching her bite back the tears sparkling in her azure eyes. "You need stitches," she muttered quietly. "Why didn't you come to me last night? You always come to me when he hurts you."
"Christ!" he hurled into the silence which had fallen between them. He pulled her into his arms, ignoring the pain in his ribs, trying to soothe her. No one ever got as upset as his girl when he had a run in with his father. "Don't y' ever get tired of havin' t' patch me up? Maybe … maybe I wanted t' let y' sleep last night without having t' deal with my shit."
"Bullshit!" she growled from the crook of his neck where he could feel her hot tears soaking his skin. "You're scared one of these days I'm going to drive to your house and put an arrow in his ass."
"That too."
"Tell me what happened, Daryl," she commanded gently, her thumb caressing the hollow of his throat as he continued to hold her.
Daryl sighed, shuddering at the memories so fresh in his mind. "I didn't think he'd be home last night. Y' know if he hasn't stumbled in by midnight, he usually don't come home at all. I thought it was safe t' go t' bed. After studying last night, I came by here to do a little work … wanted t' finish cleaning th' floors at least, 'cause I knew I was gonna be bringin' y' out here today. He came in about one in the mornin', ragin' about god knows what. All I know is he kicked th' door o' my bedroom open, his belt already in his hand. Dragged me outta my room, screamin' at me about mama, about Merle bein' gone. I took a few hits t' my back, but it wasn't bad. It's when I tried t' get t' th' door … he grabbed my arm and swung me around. The belt buckle caught me in th' ribs, tore me open. Didn't think about nothin' else … jus' grabbed my boots by th' door an' brought th' bike up here."
"Oh, Daryl," she wept against his shoulder. "Please … please don't go back there."
It wasn't the first time she'd begged him not to return to the only home he'd ever known, one filled with nothing but pain and scorn and torment. "It's just a few more days, Carol. I can survive a few more days. 'Sides, it helps he's hardly ever there."
She reared back, her face twisted in disgust for his sire. "He's there enough to abuse you!"
"Don't matter," he mumbled, averting his gaze.
Carol reached for his chin, turning his head back in her direction and forcing him to meet her eyes. "Don't give me that crap, Dixon! That's Jackson talking. Stop letting him get in your head," she hissed furiously. "Why can't you see how amazing you are?" she added, her tone gentling. "You matter, Daryl … so much."
He shook his head, needing to change the subject. "So … y' jus' gonna let me bleed here, or y' gonna patch me up?"
Carol snorted and reached for the first aid kit. "Stubborn ass," she grumbled, dousing his wound with disinfectant. "This is going to have to be stitched and I don't have a suture kit with me. I cannot believe you went the entire day at school without telling me about this."
"Jus' use th' butterfly tapes. Y' can stitch me up when we get t' your house if y' want."
"It's not an issue of what I want, Daryl. It's what you need," she said, working to bind his wound as best she could with the supplies available. "This should hold until we get home."
He sighed when she pushed his t-shirt into his hands. "Y' always make it about what I need. What about what y' need, Carol?"
Carol smiled at him, tenderness and love radiating from her entire face. "I already have everything I need, Daryl. I have wonderful friends, an amazing family … and you. I don't need anything else."
A/n: Short update compared to what I usually write, but this chapter just felt right to end it here. I want to thank everyone for the overwhelming response to the last chapter. The feedback was so amazing! I had several readers ask for more flashbacks, and I'm going to try to add as many as possible. I hope y'all like the one I added here. Can't wait to hear what y'all think.