Such total Caryl feels from this song! I can see the potential Caryl YouTube video in my head, but have no idea how to do all that technical wizardry to make it, (I hope someone who reads this does!) so I wrote a song fic story instead. Sequel to The Alexandria Junior League.
Note: A yenta is a Jewish professional matchmaker.
Trigger warning: brief mention of physical abuse.
One and the Same
I know what's rolling, around in your head
It's too hard to say so, you leave it unsaid
It's easier to turn, and walk away instead
You speak of love, as if it was a ghost
that you don't believe in, and you never get close
and you never give into, what you want the most
Oh yea, you and me, we are one and the same
We light up the fire, and we run from the flame
We pray for a storm, then hide from the rain...
You and me,
We are one and the same
We are one and the same
-Gareth Dunlop & Kim Richey: One And The Same
"It's good for them—to get out of here for awhile." Eric said, offering the plate of garlic bread to Carol which she refused. "You need to eat more, sweetie." he added with genuine concern.
Rick's entire group had been rail thin when they'd arrived, but in the month or so since they'd taken up residence here in Alexandria most had started to fill out and look healthier, with the exception of Sasha and Carol.
Sasha seemed to run on adrenaline and caffeine, most of her time spent high in the watchtower on sniper duty, stretched tighter than the rubber band propeller of a kid's toy, ready to spin out of control across the landscape, stuck in a tree, impossible to retrieve. But she'd already saved them from a herd, sending out an early warning, allowing them to mount the walls and pick off the dead trying to push through. They needed her on that wall.
Carol was stretched just as tight under her domestic façade, though it seemed only her group and the two other outsiders seemed to notice. She spent a lot of time with them because Daryl did, working away at all hours in the garage on the bike. She'd stop by with some new baked good experiment for them all to try, her smile bright, subtly checking up on the Archer; feeling out the true intentions of the men who had given him a purpose in the community.
Aaron and Eric recognized the damage in both of them; the care the two survivors took with each other reminding them of how they'd been when they met, abused by the ignorance of their parents, fragile, expecting anything but love. For one it was mental torture that started with applesauce and onions, for the other "toughening" in the form of a strict military school that believed in sleep deprivation and forced work outs, extreme physical training from the time he was a small child that made his joints stiffen with early onset arthritis; brutal beatings by the older boys, sexual humiliation...
Finding each other in DC had been everything. Recognizing that they were one and the same, finding the freedom to love another without fear? It had taken everything they had to overcome the scars of their pasts and start to trust. They watched Daryl and Carol struggle with the same fears and did everything they could to ease their way.
Because of their jobs, Aaron naturally spent more time with Daryl. With Eric's injury, he had the perfect excuse to befriend Carol when she brought him suppers. It was a task and a half to move beyond surface appearances with her, while surprisingly Daryl had started to open up from the first evening he'd spent at their home, slurping up the pasta like an eager starving child. Spaghetti Tuesdays became a tradition after that and on his third week as the other ASZ recruiter Daryl had asked if he could bring a guest to their dinner.
The three men had been in the garage, Daryl trying to explain what the manifold did versus the muffler, trying to figure out a way to get the bike to run more quietly. Daryl looked out from under his bangs, suddenly seeming a bit tongue tied, something he never was when discussing motorcycles or hunting.
"Uh—tomorrow—supper time? I was wondering-" Daryl blurted, then stepped back, his feet shifting back and forth uneasily, wiping his greasy hands on a rag and then stuffing it back in his pocket. They'd finally gotten him to wear coveralls when working on the bike, doing their little part to save his clothes from the oily residue as best they could.
"You're still coming aren't you? Wouldn't be spaghetti Tuesday without you!" Eric said brightly then couldn't resist a little tweak. "That Merlot you two brought back last Friday will go perfect with the new marinara Carol sent over she made from the tomato crop—that woman knows her oregano and garlic as well as she fills out those slacks!"
Daryl's head came up, a flash of confused jealousy marring his handsome features.
"What were you going to ask, Daryl?" Aaron said smoothly, after quickly glaring at Eric.
"Don't matter." Daryl grunted, turning away to pick up a wrench to start loosening the manifold cover, bending back to the task.
"I'm sorry Daryl—I didn't mean any disrespect—I just think under all that Suzy Homemaker shit she wears, that maybe Carol's got a rockin' ass." Eric said mildly, waiting for the explosion while Aaron rolled his eyes.
Daryl threw down the wrench, a solid metallic clatter on the garage floor and stared daggers at Eric.
"What the fuck?" Daryl was equal parts pissed and perplexed. "Of course she does! What you doin' lookin' at her ass for anyhow—you got his ass all your own!" he gestured to Aaron with an angry sweep of his arm.
"Well thank you, Dixon—nice to know you think my ass is as good as Carol's." Aaron said, preening.
"I didn't—I never—" Daryl was backtracking, trying to remember exactly what he'd said, blushing like a fool until he realized they were having fun with him, their grins splitting their faces.
"Assholes." Daryl muttered, bending to pick up the wrench, but grinned too, sheepish now with the realization they'd gotten him to say he liked the look of Carol's ass.
"How long you been running away from that, Daryl?" Aaron asked gently.
Daryl's head came up again, like a gazelle at a watering hole, wary of predators stalking him when he was vulnerable.
Aaron's eyes held his, sympathetic, honest in his concern for his new friend.
Daryl chewed the inside of his lip, the wheels of his mind almost visibly turning.
"She's the one been doing most of the running...lately." Daryl said softly, looking down at his hands. "Wake up every morning wondering if she'll still be there..."
Both Eric and Aaron frowned.
"You don't think that she's thinking of..." Aaron asked. After the herd attack there had been two suicides; people who'd been in the cloistered safety of the Zone from the beginning who couldn't deal with the reality of what awaited them if the walls ever fell.
"Not like that, no...she's the strongest person I know...but taking off? Running?" Daryl stopped, shrugged and shook his head wearily. "Maybe."
"Why would she do that? Everyone, everything she cares about is here now." Eric asked, his brow creased with confusion.
"Exactly." Aaron said in a flash of understanding. "She doesn't want to watch them all die if it all goes wrong here."
They knew some of her story, what he'd heard and what the other survivors had shared, how Sasha's brother Tyreese had protected Rick's daughter and Carol after the prison fell, then saved them all from that place, the cannibals, how they'd lost him; how the attempt to rescue an injured Carol, who Maggie's sister Beth had saved, had gone so terribly wrong. It must seem to her like everyone she was close to died, one by one.
"Already have so many ghosts..." Daryl said, unexpectedly poetic.
"But how could she ever think of leaving you?" Eric insisted, and a blush started at Daryl's neck and slowly crept up his face.
"Eric." Aaron admonished, seeing Daryl's discomfort.
"I'm sorry, but it's the fucking Apocalypse—love, real love isn't a ghost!" Eric insisted, but saying the 'L' word pushed Daryl too hard.
"I gotta go." Daryl mumbled and began rapidly unfastening his coveralls and starting to strip them off revealing the smooth clean lines of the sun browned defined muscles of his broad shoulders and upper arms. The man was eye candy and didn't even know it.
"Bring her—tomorrow, Daryl. That's what you were going to ask anyhow, wasn't it?" Aaron said gently, moving to put his hand on Daryl's shoulder.
Daryl met his eyes, startled, blinked rapidly and then slowly nodded, wondering at the man's almost psychic abilities.
"I'm good at reading people too, remember?" Aaron smiled, squeezing Daryl's shoulder.
That night as they lay in their bed together, Aaron teasingly asked Eric if being yentas for their neighbors was really the best use of their time in their daily life and death struggle to survive.
"Doesn't everyone deserve to be as happy as we are? For as long as they can? Shouldn't we help as long as we can?" Eric asked.
Aaron smiled in agreement, cuddling closer to his side.
"They just need a little help—and I think Daryl was asking us for that today, don't you?" Eric mused.
"I think you're a good person. The best." Aaron responded, kissing Eric's lips that had curved up into a pleased smile.
"How ever will I keep my girlish figure if you keep pushing those carbs on me, mister?" Carol kidded back at Eric, raising a skeptical eyebrow at the plate of home baked bread he was proffering at the Tuesday dinner party.
Daryl grunted grumpily from across the table, swirling the Merlot in his stemmed glass, tipping back in his chair. He'd been prickly ever since they'd arrived, Carol in a figure flattering dress for once, one in pale blue that dipped in a deep V showing of her creamy cleavage and hugged her ass like a glove before falling in a loose swirl of material to her knees.
Why she'd dressed up so sexy for dinner with two men who only had eyes for each other was beyond him and not understanding it had pissed him off.
"Have you been enjoying the chance to get outside the walls, Carol? I hear your rifle lessons with Tobin have been going well." Aaron asked, changing the subject, an evil twinkle of false innocence in his eyes.
Eric's eyes widened, wondering why Aaron was prodding the bull so blatantly. Tobin's none too subtle pursuit of Carol when Daryl was out on runs was a favorite topic of gossip all over town.
"What the fuck?" Daryl blurted, his chair landing back on all four legs with a loud bang.
Carol lifted her wine glass, ignoring Daryl's outburst, and took a long leisurely sip before speaking.
"Well, I don't aspire to Sasha's levels of competency, but I can actually hit the target more often than not now with the bigger guns. Tobin's a very... patient and attentive teacher."
"You been goin' out there? Alone with that, that idjit?" Daryl fumed.
"You and Rick are busy with your work, I don't expect you to take time away from that for me." Carol said calmly. "Tobin was kind enough to offer."
"That ain't all he's offerin'" Daryl muttered, drinking the rest of his wine glass dry and pouring another.
"What I do in my free time is none of your concern." Carol narrowed her eyes at him in warning and then delicately twirled the Angel hair pasta around her fork inside the bowl of her spoon, neatly shaping it into a bite sized portion and lifting it to her mouth.
"The hell it ain't." Daryl leaned forward, stabbing his fork into the pile of spaghetti on his plate and lifting it to brandish at her like a many limbed squid before stuffing it in his mouth and noisily slurping it down.
"Oh my god, give them a big meatball and one plate and it's Lady and the Tramp!" Eric burst into gales of laughter, followed by Aaron.
Carol put down her fork and glared at them, but the corners of her mouth turned up as she tried to suppress a grin.
"Idjits. Asshole idjits." Daryl shook his head. He knew Carol was probably going outside with Tobin as part of her covert mission to learn more about the inner workings of the community—he was their munitions expert—but that she hadn't told him about it didn't sit right. He knew she had to hide who she really was, but this felt wrong, her hiding something from him.
"How are you at poker, Carol?" Aaron asked when his merriment died down.
"I prefer chess." she said with a smile.
"Even better!" Eric grinned, "We thought we could have tea and dessert with a friendly game or two—how's that sound? Aaron's really no competition for me; he prefers cards and I usually go along when we have guests."
"It's nice that you compromise like that...sweet of you." Carol said, nodding and stealing a glance at Daryl who was ignoring them, scraping the last of the pasta off his plate, using his garlic bread like a sponge to get the final remnant of sauce.
"Are you done?" Eric asked, reaching for Carol's plate to stack it with his.
"I'll do it—you just relax." Carol said quickly lifting her napkin, standing and moving to clear the table.
"I'll go find the chess board," Aaron said, standing and putting his napkin on the table. "Daryl, can you show Carol where everything is in the kitchen?"
Daryl frowned slightly, but then made his sure why not face and shrugged, rising, picking up the stack of plates and following Carol.
"I still can't get used to hot running water on demand." Carol smiled as she turned on the sink faucet and added a small amount of dish detergent.
"Though if everyone cleaned their plates as well as you we wouldn't need to wash them." she teased, lifting his pristine looking dinner ware from the stack.
Daryl's ears turned red.
"Weren't that long ago we were eatin' Lassie and happy to get it." he growled, opening a drawer and pulling out a clean dishtowel, slamming the door shut.
Carol sighed, trying to ignore his mood and listen to the soft music from the other room, some folksy comfortable sounding tune she had never heard.
I know what's rolling, around in your head
It's too hard to say so, you leave it unsaid
It's easier to turn, and walk away instead...
She set the dishes in the sink and picked up the crocheted dish cloth and started methodically washing, handing Daryl the plates and then the water glasses to rinse and dry. But their usual rhythm and ease was off; one of the tumblers slipped in the passing from one hand to another and hit the edge of the sink, bounced once and then fell to the hardwood floor, shattering.
Daryl quickly knelt, cursing himself for clumsy and started picking up the larger pieces and putting them on the dishtowel he threw on the floor next to him. Carol knelt beside him to help and he jerked back at her proximity, slicing open his palm on one of the broken pieces.
"Daryl—be careful!" Carol cried softly, taking his hand to stop him from continuing.
You speak of love, as if it was a ghost
that you don't believe in, and you never get close
and you never give into, what you want the most
"Stop—I'll bleed all over ya." Daryl warned and tried pulling his hand back.
"Won't be the first time." Carol snorted delicately, keeping a firm hold on his cut, applying pressure to his palm, the blood slowly oozing out, dyeing her hand red, dripping down onto her dress.
"Besides, you think my clothes look ridiculous, right?" she teased.
Daryl's eyes drifted from hers to the low neckline of her present outfit, her position kneeling next to him giving him the perfect view of her tempting softness, and then back up again.
"That one ain't so bad." he rasped, staring into her eyes, unsmiling heat reflecting back at her.
Oh yea, you and me, we are one and the same
We light up the fire, and we run from the flame
We pray for a storm, then hide from the rain...
You and me,
We are one and the same
We are one and the same
Carol's eyes fell to his lips, framed by his scruff of facial hair, and then back up to the blue heat, tilting her head slightly to the side.
You lost your way, how you gonna get back?
You've gone so far now, you're clear off the map
You're dying for help, but you're too proud to ask
"I should see how deep that is—you might need stitches..." Carol said, verbally pushing away the moment but not moving to rise yet either.
"Don't go out there with him no more." Daryl said softly, raising his other hand to her cheek, puffing out a little contented sigh as her softness was confirmed after all the wondering he'd done about it.
Oh yea, you and me, we are one and the same
We light up the fire, and we run from the flame
We pray for the storm, then hide from the rain...
You and me,
We are one and the same
Always running away
Always running away
Always running
Daryl could see the stubbornness start to rise in her eyes, the righteous protest that it had nothing to do with him on the tip of her tongue; saw her push it back down and utter only one word instead, closing her eyes and rubbing her cheek against his hand like a tigress marking her mate.
"Why?"
"Done running." he said simply, leaning close enough to touch his lips to hers.
In the doorway to the kitchen, Aaron slowly backed away and almost strutted back to the dining room table where Eric was setting up the chessboard.
"Well?" Eric asked.
"Score one for the ASZ yentas." Aaron smirked.
Oh yea, you and me, we are one and the same
We light up the fire, and we run from the flame
We pray for a storm, then hide from the rain...
You and me,
We are one and the same
We are one and the same
We are one and the same
AN: I kind of love the adventures of Aaron and Eric vis-à-vis Caryl;-)
Thanks for reading! Let me know if you'd like more...