Nox: The amount of love I have received for this story is incredible. You guys are incredible. I seriously never thought it would be received with such open arms, and then loved so dearly. I'm stunned. I sincerely hope that this chapter will move you in more ways than the first one did. Also, be a doll and read my Author Note below before you leave.
To my anon reviewers: Jenn: I hope you didn't get hurt. I know how much shit I have in my attic…haha.
Guest: It is a great achievement to have made you cry. Thank you both so much for reviewing.
The Walking Dead belongs to Kirkman and AMC.
Wake Up
"It's time," he said, pulling her up to her feet, gripping her arm tightly.
"Wha-what's going-" He jerked her forward causing her to stumble and cutting off her question.
"Don't worry dear," he soothed, not bothering to look at her. He had to drag her down the hall now, because she couldn't get her feet back under her. "I've brought you something special."
She didn't like the way her chest seized up, or the way she suddenly couldn't breathe. Something wasn't right.
This was all wrong.
He tossed her through the doorway into the chamber where he'd tortured her and she couldn't stop herself from falling to the ground and rolling. She winced at the pain that shot up her back, and across her hip. Those wounds were still fresh, still painful.
"Carol-"
Her heart jumped and she turned to her side, her eyes seeking out the voice that had called out her name. And then she cried out, attempting to crawl to him.
"Daryl!" She felt a boot slam down on her legs, and she curled up, crying out from the pain.
"Fuck you!" She could hear Daryl thrashing above her, trying to escape from his captors.
"Goddamn you, ya fuckin' sonuvab-" his words were cut off as he was punched. She looked up in time to see him double over, his arms held tightly behind his back. He looked up wearily, from under the tangle of his hair, and caught hold of her gaze.
She stifled a cry.
"Daryl," she murmured, holding those blue eyes with her own. How she'd wanted to see them so badly, and now? Now she would give anything to never see them here. He looked so afraid, and angry.
He looked ready to kill.
"I'm gonna give you one last chance," he announced, coming between them and pulling out his gun. He aimed it right at Daryl's chest.
"NO!" She rose to her knees, but felt a hand grab at her hair pulling her back. She cried out, clutching at the wrists that held her tightly. She had to make a choice.
A goddamn choice. Because this is what she'd asked for wasn't it? She'd asked God to bring the only man she had ever loved to this place, and she had put him in this position and it was all her fault.
And now she had to choose.
"His life for the prison," the Governor declared.
She felt her heart breaking in her chest as she watched Daryl shake his head vehemently, thrashing against the arms that held him.
"Don't you fuckin' do it! Don't you do it Carol!" His blue eyes held hers, boring down into her. She couldn't stop staring at him, couldn't stop from memorizing his face. His shadowed eyes, and the way he pursed his lips when he was thinking. The tiny scar on his left cheek, or the crow's feet around his eyes. She knew he could smile. She loved that smile; the way it would light up his face and change everything about him. He was the one thing she'd come to love like life itself in this wretched world.
And now she had to choose? Between him and everyone else at the prison? She had to make a choose between one life, and the lives of all the others?
She couldn't stop the tears from falling down her face, or from falling to her hands as she was released.
There wasn't a choice though. Damn her to hell, but there wasn't a choice.
"Don't you do it," he begged, the fight suddenly gone from his voice. It was as if he knew exactly what she had already chosen. "Don't."
She looked up into his face once more, and knew that no matter what the consequences were, no matter who would die, no matter what he would think of her in the end; she would choose him. She would always choose him. And she didn't care if that made her a bad person, she didn't care if it tore her apart for years to come, spinning in the darkness of her guilt, and she didn't care if she went to hell for it.
All that mattered was that Daryl lived. All that had ever mattered was Daryl.
"I ain't worth it," he begged one last time, seeking out her eyes, voice catching at the end. She shook her head softly, like she was sorry for what she was about to do, biting her lip.
And it was just like him to see that he wasn't.
"But you are," she said fiercely, fighting back the sobs. She heard the Governor cock the gun, and push it against his chest. She stood up, raising her hands in surrender.
"It's south of here," she blurt out, feeling the floor give out beneath her. The way his face just crumbled, the way he just gave up made her cry harder. She had never wanted to disappoint him, but she didn't want to lose him either. And if it came down to choosing his life over anything, she would choose him every – single – time.
"Three miles," she choked out, her hands shaking. "Three miles south," she muttered again. She sought out the Governor's eye, pleading with him.
"Please don't," she whispered, taking a hesitant step forward. She wasn't sure that the Governor wouldn't kill Daryl, but the only chance that he wouldn't was to tell him what he wanted. She wasn't going to lose Daryl because she'd not given him that. "Not him," she pleaded. The Governor watched her for a moment, like he was thinking about something as he looked her up and down.
And then he smiled.
She felt something inside of her twist, and she looked at Daryl's face. The nausea was rising in her throat, and she wanted to wrap her arms around him; to feel him close against her, alive and safe. She needed that.
"Thank you dear," he said kindly. And for a moment, she was relieved though she wasn't sure why.
Bang
She flinched, her hands covering her ears as she watched in horror as Daryl's body jerked and then fell to the floor.
She watched as he convulsed, the blood pooling in his mouth. And then she screamed, the silence deafening her ears.
She ran toward his body, and fell over him; her hands running over his shoulders, his chest, and then his face. She couldn't breathe as she choked on her tears. She pulled him into her lap, gently, and sucked in a breath. The bullet had gone through the center of his chest, and there was nothing that anyone could have done for him. Even she could see that.
And she could see now that no matter what she had said or done, the Governor had always been planning to do this. She was so stupid.
"When he reanimates," the Governor said from behind her, "put a bullet in his head."
She sobbed hard, and pulled his head against her chest. He choked on the blood in his mouth.
"Daryl," she murmured, rocking their bodies, "I'm so sorry." Sorry she had given away everyone they loved. Sorry that she had forfeited his life for nothing. Sorry she had ever brought this upon him.
"Shouldn'ta…" he gagged on the blood, and spit it out to the side. She pushed down on the wound on his chest, futilely trying to staunch the blood. "…said nothin'." She nodded her head, the tears cascading down her cheeks, falling onto his face. He would never know just how sorry she was, but it was pointless to tell him.
He reached up to brush away her tears with his bloody fingers, shaking his head just barely.
"Don't," he murmured. She bit her lip to stop the tears, but it wouldn't matter. She had done this. She had brought this one him, on herself, on them.
After all that she had done, she had still failed. She had failed everyone.
"Daryl," she whispered, leaning down to his face and caressing the side of his cheek softly. His eyes flickered briefly, the only movement she received from him. She felt her heart stop, the moments slipping away from her faster.
"Don't leave," she said, touching their foreheads together, clutching at his jacket, closing her eyes tight together. His breath rushed out haggard, mixing with hers.
She could feel his body sagging heavier in her arms, his breath getting slower. She opened her eyes, unable to breathe, and found his blue eyes staring back at hers.
"I-" He blinked slowly, and wrapped his fingers around her wrist, weakly. He looked down at her lips, and then back up at her eyes, the light fading from his so fast. And then he raised his head up towards hers, just barely.
She couldn't stop the tears from spilling over, as she leaned down carefully to press her lips gently to his.
It should have been a moment that captured her soul.
His lips pressed softly against hers, warm and inviting as his facial hair scratched at her cheek. The sun should have been shining down on them, and his hand should have been holding onto her wrist tentatively, like he was scared to let go of her.
But he was lying in her lap in a dark room where the sun never reached her, and his lips were already cold as his blood coated her cheek. And his fingers grasped at her wrist with every last bit of strength he had left.
And then, they slipped from her skin, falling to the floor as the breath shuddered out of him.
She cried, and pulled his body closer to hers with her legs, his body heavier than it had been before.
He was dead. His heart didn't beat in his chest. He lay limp in her arms. His blue eyes were closed, forever, to the world around him. He was dead.
"I love you," she murmured into his ear, burying her face into his neck. She didn't care what happened next. Didn't care if he woke as a walker and bit into her flesh and tore her to pieces. None of it mattered anymore, because he was never going to look at her again with those clear, blue eyes of his. He would never hold her with that hesitant, tentative grasp again.
She would never know the feel of those soft, unsure lips against hers again.
"I love you," she whispered, and had never wanted anything more than to fade away into the darkness.
XXX
He sat hunched against a tree, eyes raised to the sky, breath labored. The sun was setting and the stars were just starting to shine through the on-coming darkness. He could hear a rumbling in the distance, and feel the static in the air. His shoulder ached something fierce. Storm was comin', and he didn't like that.
Hell, he didn't want to admit it but he was fuckin' scared. He'd wanted to make better time than he was, and now the darkness was closing in on him; slowing him down, making it hard to see anything.
And he was scared coz he wanted to be back, in the safety of the prison. He needed to get her home.
A shuddering breath beneath him brought him out of his thoughts, and he reflexively curled his arms tighter around the body nestled in close to his chest.
Carol.
His chest tightened at the way she worried her bottom lip, even in unconsciousness. He reached up hesitantly, so afraid to do anything but hold her as he carefully, gently cupped her cheek in his palm.
His hand shook against her face, and he worried she would wake but at the same time hoped she would. He wanted to see her blue eyes, hear her voice again. He wanted to know if she was okay; needed to know that she was. He couldn't stand waitin' for her eyes to open, to see those shining blues. It was like an itch he couldn't scratch.
And she'd been out-cold for a long time. Even when he'd slid down a bad rocky slope, something he'd missed in his rush to find the hideout, and he jerked, and bumped and he'd clutched her body so tight against his he didn't know where she began and he ended; she still didn't stir.
And that fuckin' worried him.
He couldn't stop his eyes from checking over every inch of her again, just like he'd done the first time he'd gotten a good first look at her.
And he couldn't stop the anger, and the hatred, and the fuckin' guilt that consumed him.
Her left eye was swollen, bruised. He knew what he felt along her back, and he was both nervous and pissed as hell to see what was really there. And her feet – he couldn't even look at her feet without wanting to turn right back around and hunt down the fuckin' Governor and cut his fuckin' throat open.
She wouldn't be able to walk for days.
And all a that was his fuckin' fault. If he'd a just kept his damn eyes on her, then none a this would a happened. If he'd a just kept her close then she'd still be at the prison, takin' care of Judith, worryin' over him not eatin', worryin' over Rick not sleepin'.
She'd be safe.
He wouldn't be sittin' here, hopin' to fuckin' God that she'd wake up; that she'd survive the shit that had been done to her.
She'd be safe.
She shivered in his arms, and worried her bruised, bloodied lip. He couldn't stop himself; he reached up with his thumb and pulled her lip free from between her teeth.
He wiped at the blood there, softly, and froze as a small whimper escaped her, and tears slipped passed her closed lids.
"Daryl," she whispered, suddenly clutching at his jacket lapel. He jerked his hand back, the warmth of her breath rushing across his skin unexpectedly. His jaw clenched tighter as he watched her face twist in pain. He didn't even know what she might have been reliving. Didn't think he wanted to know.
"Don't leave…" she breathed out, trembling; curling into him, closer than he'd ever imagined her to be. There was a part of him that trembled at the closeness of her, at the way her body just fit neatly into his. That was a closeness he'd avoided his whole life. Never had anyone been this close without doin' him harm, without makin' him hurt; inside and out.
But Carol had always managed to get close, so close, and just make it feel like it was okay. If he admitted it, she always made him want to pull her closer, to know what it would feel like to have her body against his. She always looked like she would fit right in his arms. As if she was supposed to be there, all along.
And he wanted to know if his heart could handle lettin' her in. If he could be the man she had always thought he was; a man of honor.
That shit scared him more than he wanted to admit, more than he wanted to know. And this sure as hell wasn't how he wanted to do it. But right then, all he wanted was to keep her as close as he could no matter how far he may a wanted to run from the feelings inside a him. He wasn't gonna let her go this time. He'd keep her fuckin' close.
He dropped his head, resting his forehead against hers, and closed his eyes; breath exhaling and mingling with hers.
He wanted her to wake up so that he could tell her just how glad he was that she was safe. That was all he wanted. He just wanted her to know.
"Wake up," he murmured, pulling her close, her face resting in the crook of his neck.
"Wake up."
XXX
He ran. He ran until he couldn't run anymore as her body bounced against his. And then, he fuckin' ran some more.
His lungs burned, and his legs ached, and his chest hurt.
That was the pain he couldn't comprehend. The one that made everything lose its color. And he didn't know what the fuck to do about it.
So he just ran.
That was what he was good at. Runnin'. Running from everything. When the ol' man was beatin' him, cuttin' him up, and calling him things he still couldn't get out of his head to this day – he ran. When his Ma had watched it all happen, when she'd tried to act like she was just a victim as well, when he watched that house fuckin' burn – he fuckin' ran.
And when Merle had left him each and every time for whatever fuckin' reason; their ol' man, the Marines, the drugs – he ran.
He never let nothin' hold him back. When shit got to be too much, he ran. When he didn't want to face something he knew would make him uncomfortable, he ran. When he knew it would hurt more than he'd want to bear, he ran.
He wanted to run away now. Carol was hurt, Carol was broken in his arms, and there weren't nothin' he could do about that. If wanted to, he could blame himself for it even. But he couldn't do that either. Carol needed him, and all he had in him was to run – run towards home and the only people who could save her now.
And he couldn't leave her – wouldn't. He wouldn't just walk away from the only woman who'd ever cared for him like he was worth more than life itself. He'd never had nothin' like that before; never had nobody who cared like their life weren't worth nothin' compared to his. His whole life people had been treatin' him like he was the shit beneath their feet. His whole life people had been tellin' him that nobody would ever care.
And here, in his arms, was a woman who had done the only thing that his ol' man had ever said the no one would ever do – care. She cared even after he cussed and yelled, and almost hit her. She cared even after she saw the scars on his back, the things that forever told the world how weak he had been. She cared even after he didn't bring her daughter home. She cared even after they'd spent all winter long, curled together by the fires, and he never once responded to her small, subtle advances.
She fuckin' cared.
And goddammit if he didn't care too. He just didn't know how to show it like she did. He didn't know how to respond. Didn't know if he had the courage to be the man she wanted. Didn't know if he was that kind of man.
What if he turned out just to be like his ol' fuckin' man? What if he hurt the only woman in the world who had never turned him away, even when she should have?
He glanced down at her, taking in her swollen face and the cuts. Behind that was the softness in her mouth, and the laugh lines around her eyes. He had never wanted more in that moment than to see her smiling.
As the rain pounded against his back, and ran into his eyes blurring his vision a chill went through him. When he felt a shiver crawl over his skin, and he knew he was cold, he curled Carol tighter to his chest. Because if he was cold, he didn't want to think about what she felt.
But he didn't want to stop again. He was afraid that if he did, they would never make it back in time.
And he wasn't going to lose her. Not again.
He felt his foot slip, and suddenly he was falling. He turned his hips, curling his body around Carol's protectively and grunted as fell to the ground, into the mud. A sharp pain ran up his side, and his thigh, causing him to gasp out.
And for a moment, he just laid there with her body heavy on his. He looked up into the canopy of the trees, and listened to her ragged breathing in his ear as the rain fell into his eyes and the mud coated his cheek.
The feel of her lips against his cheek sent his heart thundering in his chest. And then her lips were on his ear and something he'd never felt before ghosted through him. A longing he'd never known he was capable of.
But it was the feel of her lips on his neck that set his skin on fire, and the way she buried her face into his neck like she wanted to get underneath his skin.
His skin; the very thing he hated. The very thing that would always show everyone just how fuckin' weak he was. The one thing he was truly ashamed of.
His ol' man had made sure that he would be scarred forever; that anyone who looked at him would know that he was nothin'. But Carol?
"Never," she whispered harshly against his neck, gripping his collar tightly, as her other hand came up around his waist and gripped the back of his vest just as tight; her fingers curling over the wings on his vest.
Carol had never once judged him for those scars. Had never looked at him with pity or with sadness. She'd never been afraid to look at him with nothing but the quiet look of understanding in her eyes and know that he was nothing but a man. And he'd never been able to shake her since.
He felt the breath rush out of him, and he pulled her in tight, burying his face in her shoulder. She smelled like death, and the rot of the walkers, but she was still there; the lingering scent of soap and sunshine.
"I'm gonna take you home," he murmured against her skin.
He felt her start to shake, and he panicked for a moment. He pulled away quickly; looking down at her thinking he'd done something to hurt her.
"What the hell's wrong?" She shook her head, just barely, and her hair tickled his neck. She didn't look up at him as she spoke, just kept her face tucked into his neck.
"You called it home," she said softly, her voice hoarse, her lips moving against his skin. An electric tingle went down his skin, and sent his heart galloping in his chest. She moved her head to look down, and she placed her palm over his heart, closing her eyes on a sigh.
He swallowed hard.
"Yeah," he said roughly, adjusting his grip on her, pulling her up higher in his arms. This person, this woman, who had invaded his heart, who had made him feel like he was worth everything and more; who had faith in him – he wasn't ever letting her go. "That's what ya said it was, didn't ya?"
He felt warm tears fall across his skin, and she just laid her head on his chest, with her ear pressed to his heart.
"Yes," she murmured softly, "yes."
Her face was pressed into his neck now, her lips against his skin lighting it on fire. He needed to get up. He needed to get them home. He couldn't just sit here, in the cold rain, and wait for them to die.
"Daryl," she croaked, her breath washing over his skin, the warmth a sharp contrast to the cold rain. His arms constricted around her, pulling her closer.
He had to get up, he had to get up.
He had to keep goin'. If he didn't, he didn't know what would come next. Didn't know if he'd keep goin' neither.
There was somethin' inside a him, somethin' dark that wanted to turn around and hunt the Governor down and find him.
Find him and tear him to pieces, and cut him down. He wanted to burn him. He wanted to feed him to the walkers. He wanted to cut off his fingers one by one. He wanted to burn his feet like he'd done to Carol. He wanted to cut out his other eye, and watch him bleed. He wanted to beat him down until there was nothing left of him.
He wanted to kill him.
But he couldn't go back. He had to keep goin'. He had to keep goin' for Carol.
He sat up, shook the rain and hair out of his eyes, and pulled himself to his feet, clutching to Carol's body tightly. He struggled for a moment, between standing and crouching, as her body weighed down on his, and the rain started to fall harder.
And then he dug deep; Carol kissing him on the head, because he'd gone looking for Sophia. She hadn't even given a second glance to his scars then. Carol seeking him out after he'd separated himself from the group. She'd been the only one then. Carol's hands on his hips as she rode with him on the bike. He had only ever felt comfortable with her behind him. Carol between his arms as he taught her to shoot and her smile as she hit her first target. He'd been so fuckin' proud of her. Carol's tense shoulder as he rubbed it. Carol's bright smile as she teased him endlessly. Carol looking at him in that way he learned she kept just for him.
Carol.
He got his legs underneath him and pushed himself up with everything he had, and once he was standing he started to walk.
And once he was walking, he was running.
He was running for home.
XXX
"Rick!" He stumbled, crashing to his knees at the foot of the gate. He didn't know how, or why, but he wasn't gonna think about it – there weren't any walkers near the opening and he was just fuckin' grateful for small mercies.
"RICK!" He waited, trying to catch his breath, knowing he'd called the walkers to his position, hoping to fuckin' god that somebody heard him.
He laid Carol to the ground, but never took his arms from around her. He hunched over her body, and felt the exhaustion hit him as he rested his head on hers. He was coated in mud, and he was soaked to the bone. He was cold and he was tired and he was just fuckin' glad that he'd made it – he'd made it in one goddamn piece.
He was glad that she was still with him.
"Rick!" he shouted one last time, his voice catching at the end. He looked up hoping to see someone, anyone coming for them.
But there was nothing.
"Shit," he groaned, as the walkers started to amble towards them. He drew in a shaky breath and stood to his feet, leaving Carol where she was. If he was gonna protect her he'd need his hands free for this.
He dove for the closest, knifing it in the head quickly, and then taking out the second one just behind it. He felt his muscles quiver with the exertion of it, and he knew that he wasn't going to last long.
He turned to check on Carol and spotted two more walkers coming from the other side, and he went for them. And as his knife slid into the eye of the first walker, he felt his drive leave him. He was done.
He let the other walker advance on him, and pushed it away clumsily. His arms ached, burned.
And when it grabbed at him he thrust the knife through its chin, and then he fell to the ground with it. He was panting, and wheezing as he crawled away from the walker and back towards Carol. He slumped beside her, angling his body to hers.
"End a the road," he muttered hoarsely. He grabbed her limp hand, clutching at it tightly. If this was it, he wasn't goin' down without her.
"Dad!" He felt his heart jump in his chest as he glanced behind him. Carl was running toward him, and he had never been so fuckin' happy in his life to see the kid.
Carl crashed into the fence, fumbling with the keys in his hand. Daryl didn't even have the strength to say anything to Carl. He just leaned over to pull Carol into his arms once again, and pulled himself to his feet. The effort it took to do that worried him. He felt his body drag down on him, and Carol very nearly slipped from his grasp.
"Hurry up there," he whispered, feeling the last of this strength fade.
He heard the shouts of the others from afar as they came barreling out of the prison. First Rick came out shouting his name, and then Glenn behind him. The girls weren't far behind them either.
But it was all just a blur as the gate came crashing open and Carl grabbed him by the elbow, shuffling him in.
He was finally home.
He'd finally gotten them home.
"Daryl, Daryl," Rick kept saying, pulling at his arm, glancing between him and Carol. He didn't know what to say, or if he could. He was so tired. He just wanted to put Carol into his bed, and lie down with her.
"Oh my god, is she all right?" Maggie ran her hand across Carol's face, her mouth twisting down in a grimace. But he just kept walking. Wasn't that he wanted to ignore them - he just didn't have the strength to say anything.
"Take her to my father," Maggie said next to him, her face full of worry. It was clear by all of their worried looks that none of them would let him sleep. But it didn't matter. As long as Carol was still out-cold he wouldn't sleep. Not until he saw her eyes would he sleep.
"We're home," he murmured softly, letting his feet carry him the rest of the way.
XXX
Watching Hershel and Maggie undress Carol was the hardest thing he'd ever had to do. There were things he'd gotten used to over the long winter months; like when he accidentally caught her coming out of a shower with only a towel, or when she'd been in the process of taking her shirt off and stood there in only her bra. Those were things he could escape from, and he'd be embarrassed and she'd playfully shrug it off.
But now? Now he had to watch as everything that she had endured was laid bare to him.
And he felt a fury build inside of him that he would never be able to repress.
He couldn't stop staring at the wound across her chest that went across her shoulder. It was a knife that had done that. He knew that. Knew first-hand what that pain was like. It was purposeful and clear. The Governor had sat in front of her, and pushed the blade into her skin and dragged it across her chest.
And then they were cutting off the right pant leg and he didn't get it. Until he saw it. The infected little bumps that littered her inner thigh. Something had been driven into her skin several times – something sharp and small.
He felt his body begin to tremble.
He couldn't stop staring at the bruising on her neck that had formed into the shape of a man's hands. Couldn't stop staring at the large circles of bruising on her stomach. Couldn't not look at the way her feet were raw, and red, and blistered.
And then Maggie carefully pushed her onto her side.
He swallowed hard; waiting, watching. He couldn't stop his hands from shaking, couldn't make himself breathe. He didn't want to know what had been done to her, he didn't want to know. To see her marked up, to see her body scarred forever like this hurt him more than any scars he would ever have to carry. He'd take all of her scars and he'd carry them. He'd carry them anywhere. He'd take them so she wouldn't have to.
Because Carol should never have to carry such things.
Everything was silent. He couldn't hear Hershel as he said something to Maggie and she slipped passed him to do whatever it was he asked. He didn't hear Rick come up beside him, watching him now.
No, all he could see were the angry, red slashes down her back. The slashes that went down her shoulder blades and to her hips. The same slashes that were covered in scratches; nail scratches. Nails that had dug across her shoulders, across her back, across her hips in arching motions. Nails that had dug deep into her back and had marked her forever.
And the fucked up part about it?
He could see a shape to'em, a fuckin' pattern.
"No," he whimpered, takin' a step toward her, "No!" He rushed forward, but was suddenly gripped from behind.
"I'm gonna fuckin' kill'em!" There wasn't anything but Carol. He couldn't see anything but Carol. He couldn't see anything but red and Carol.
He would hunt down the fuckin' monster that would ever put a fuckin' mark on his woman. He would hunt down and skin the thing that would ever dare to touch the only thing alive that he had ever come to care about with all of his soul.
"Daryl, stop!" He whirled on the person holdin' him back, Rick, and grabbed him by the collar and hauled him back. He slammed him into the wall, and threw a punch.
Rick didn't even stop him. But Daryl's fist landed on the wall next to him, and he ran from the room before he did something stupid, the pulsing pain in his hand bringing him back to himself a little.
He ran before he had to look at the fuckin' wings on Carol's back one more time.
XXX
"Daddy," Maggie said hesitantly, holding the bandages to Carol's chest as he tied them up, "will she be all right?" Hershel didn't say anything as he contemplated Carol's wounds in his head. The extent of her wounds was deep, and her suffering had been long. There was no telling as to why she was unconscious. Her injuries were severe yes, but nothing that couldn't heal over time. He was sure that these were all things she could recover from. Carol was a strong woman; inside and out.
So what was keeping her asleep?
Did she suffer inside? Was she keeping herself under her coma? Did she know that right now, she was at home and safe? Did she know that right now Daryl had brought her home and he was waiting for her to wake up?
He shook his head in answer to his daughter's question. "I don't know sweetheart," he answered softly. "I don't know." And he didn't. And that was the worst feeling in the world. He didn't know how to wake Carol up, and he didn't know how to tell Daryl that.
Somehow, Carol would just have to wake up herself.
Maggie reached forward and placed her hand gently over her father's.
XXX
"You've gotta talk to him," Glenn said, pacing on the walkway. Rick didn't know what he should do. His friend was in pain, and because of the woman he loved. He was sure of that now. He was sure that Daryl loved Carol. Whether the man could see that himself or not, well that was another thing.
"Yeah, and what do I say to him?" Glenn paused, and stared out the fencing toward Daryl. He was pacing in the courtyard, crossbow in hand. Rick was sure that if he didn't say something Daryl would either run off to kill the Governor, or he would run away from them all.
"Tell him it's not his fault," Glenn said in a rush, throwing his arms up, "tell him she'll be okay." Rick grabbed Glenn by the arm and turned him about. He held his gaze forcefully, gripping his arm tight.
Glenn sighed.
"Shit," he muttered, running his free hand through his hair. "Shit. I know, I know." He started pacing again, free of Rick's grip.
"I know, okay. I know that's not the right thing to say. But did you see her?" He stopped to stare at Rick this time, his face a twisted mask of pain, and sadness. "She was…" he let his voice drift as he grabbed onto the chain-link fence and stared out into the courtyard at Daryl.
"I can't even imagine what he's going through," he whispered, letting his head rest against the fence, closing his eyes.
"And I don't understand why she's not waking up," he voiced, confusion clear across his features. "Shouldn't she be awake, or at least waking up?"
Rick had wondered the same thing, but he didn't know what had gone out there. The only one who did was Daryl.
XXX
He was gonna kill that motherless bastard after he skinned him alive. But not before he cut out his other eye and pulled out each of his teeth, one – by – one.
He was gonna make that sonuvabitch suffer. He was gonna make him suffer just like he'd made Carol suffer.
He couldn't believe what he'd done to her – to her back. He couldn't get the image of her red, slashed up back out of his head. Every time he blinked he saw it. These fuckin' angry, bloody wings just burned into her back.
Yer a fuckin' useless boy.
She'd never be able to get rid of them. She'd never be able to forget what had been done to her. He knew what that was like, he knew what it was like to never forget the pain of that.
Nobody will ever love ya.
And he had never wanted her to know that.
Nobody.
He felt his eyes burn, and he brushed at them quickly, stuffing that shit down. He wasn't gonna do that – let his ol' man come round here and try to taunt him. Just like he used to do. Just like he'd always done. His ol' man had always made sure that he knew that no one would ever love him. Not no one, not nobody. He'd made sure a that by makin' him ugly, and broken.
"Fuck you," he muttered under his breath, pushin' the voice of his ol' man away, pushin' him so far back that he wouldn't be able to ever come back. He wasn't gonna cry, not like some fuckin' pussy. He wasn't gonna be weak. He wasn't gonna let some used up, weak ol' sonuvabitch push him around. Not when he had to keep his shit together.
Not when Carol needed him.
"Daryl." He didn't even bother to turn to Rick. He just kept walkin'. He couldn't stop, needed to keep movin'. If he stopped, he wouldn't be able to get up again.
"Daryl," he tried again, and this time he did turn around.
"The fuck you want?" he barked. Rick held up a hand, looking away.
"Just wanted to talk to you," he said slowly. Daryl thought about it for a moment, watching Rick, and didn't care. He just started pacing again. Pacing felt good.
"Can you tell me," he started, shifting on his feet, hands goin' in his pockets. Daryl stopped, watching him from the corner of his eye.
"Can you tell me why she won't wake up?" Daryl felt himself tip. She'd been unconscious the whole way back. Not once had she opened her eyes since she'd…
"Daryl…" he kept running, because he knew that she needed help. There was blood on his hands, blood on her face, blood everywhere. He'd never seen so much blood on her before, and never so much of it hers. It fuckin' scared him.
He didn't want to stop, not when it could mean her life, and not when there was the possibility of the Governor comin' after them.
He just grunted and kept running.
"Find…" she said even softer than before. It was the way her voice drifted, the way her grip loosened from his jacket. It sent a sliver of panic through him.
He slowed down, stopped and looked down at her.
"What?" Her eyes fluttered, as her arm fell to her side, dangling next to her. He waited for her to say something, anything else. But she didn't. She lay still in his arms; quiet, unmoving.
"Carol?" He shook her gently, trying to wake her up, trying to rouse her. But nothing happened.
"Carol?!" He dropped to his knees, pulling his arm from underneath her legs and cupped her cheek. She didn't even register his touch. She was just there.
"Goddammit Carol," he muttered hoarsely, shaking her shoulder. He dropped his ear to her chest, and felt a wave of relief rush through him. Her heart still beat steadily.
"Why?" he moaned, his arm curling around her tighter. What had he done wrong? What hadn't he done right?
He needed her right now, needed her with him now. He couldn't be alone again.
'Wake up!" he screamed, spit flying. She didn't blink, didn't flinch. Didn't move at all. He didn't know what had happened, didn't know what he was supposed to do, didn't know what the fuck he was supposed to do.
He just wanted Carol here, with him.
"Wake up," he cried out, rocking her in his arms.
He felt his stomach clench, and chest burn. He thought he had lost her then, thought she wasn't going to wake up ever. "She just fell into this…" he didn't know what it was.
"Coma?" Rick suggested. He looked up, connecting with Rick's gaze. He nodded.
But that word, coma, made him feel wrong. He didn't like the way it settled in his stomach and churned there. Didn't like the way it made him feel powerless.
There weren't no way he were gonna sit around and wait for Carol to wake up out of some goddamn coma. Something had to be done.
There had to be something.
XXX
"When the hell is she gonna wake up?" He didn't like the way Hershel kept staring at her body as if there weren't nothin' left he could do. Rick hovered at his side, eyes watchin' him, Glenn doin' the same. They were like fuckin' flies; annoyin' the shit outta him.
"Why ain't ya doin' nothin' else to wake her up?!" He reached for the vet, but Rick and Glenn grabbed him by the arms holding him back. Hershel didn't even flinch. Just kept staring down at her, lookin' for all the world like he'd lost her already.
"I've done all I can for her son," he remarked slowly, standing up. He looked him in the eyes, and reached out to clasp him on the shoulder, squeezing tight. "It's up to her to wake up now."
Daryl wouldn't, couldn't accept that.
"No, NO!" he thrashed free of their arms and ran from the cell, ran from the pity on their faces, ran from the pain that was threatening to swallow him whole.
"Daryl!" Rick called from behind him. But he didn't listen, didn't turn. He couldn't face her, not when she wasn't wakin' up. Not when she was dyin' inside a little every moment. Not when he couldn't do nothin' to stop that.
He ran from everything he couldn't face.
XXX
Rick found Daryl sitting outside the walls by the fence, baiting the walkers. His knees were drawn to his chest, and he was playing with something in his hands that he couldn't see.
He took a breath, trying to find the right words to say, anything that would make this all right to say to his friend; but found nothing. He exhaled and approached him.
He knew Daryl had heard him from the way his head looked up for a moment. But Daryl never said anything as he continued to stare out beyond the fence.
Rick sat next to him, drawing his knees up, holding them with his arms. The walkers pushed, and thrashed against the fence; their faces rotted and grey, their eyes lifeless and empty.
He didn't say anything. Just decided to sit. He figured out that sometimes that was all Daryl needed; the company of others without the forced burden of making it social.
Sometimes you just had to wait until he talked.
Rick looked over finally, and saw that Daryl was playing with a necklace; a little gold chain with a cross at the end. His brows drew down, and he didn't know where the hell Daryl had gotten such a thing or why he was fidgeting with it.
And then it dawned on him; it was Carol's. Before they had found the prison, before the long winter months had ended, it had been Carol's. But when had it transferred from Daryl to Carol?
Rick could have sworn that she had thrown the necklace away. He could have sworn that she had abandoned it, like she had her beliefs.
"It was Carol's," Daryl said suddenly, sounding like a small child. He held the necklace up, glinting in the sunlight.
"She doesn't know I have it," he murmured quietly. And there it was. The small things about Daryl that you never really knew unless he revealed them to you. He'd kept that necklace, for all this time, and for what?
Because of Carol.
Because Daryl really did love Carol. And right now, his woman was in there, lying on that bed; broken, and she wasn't waking up. And Daryl didn't know how to respond to that.
"Maybe you should tell her," he responded, hoping he wasn't saying the wrong thing, but knowing that Daryl needed someone to talk to; needed someone to help him.
Daryl looked up at him, clutching the cross in his fist, and clenched his jaw.
"She can't hear me," he forced out between his teeth, pulling back on all the hard emotions he was trying to keep down. Rick could see how hard this was for him. And he knew that he never wanted his friend to face the death of the woman he loved.
He looked up, between the chain-links of the fence and caught the flicker of white between the trees. He blinked and it was gone.
"You don't know that," he argued, finding Daryl's gaze again. He grabbed hold of his shoulder, and leaned in. "You don't know." Daryl studied him, eyes flicking back and forth, and then he looked away, back down at the necklace in his hands.
"Ya think…" he let the cross lay flat in his palm as he stared at it. "Ya think she'll hear me?"
Rick squeezed his shoulder. "I think you just need to talk to her."
XXX
It was embarrassing really. The more he thought on it, the more he was scared to do it.
Pussy, he thought to himself. He could just hear Merle tauntin' him, makin' fun of him. He'd come in here, after Rick had cleared everyone out for him, just to talk to her.
And now he was gonna back out?
But the more he looked at her, just lyin' there, her chest wrapped all the way around. White bandages coverin' her knuckles, and her feet wrapped up real good; he couldn't look at her. Couldn't look at all the pain and the hurt she'd had to suffer. He'd fuckin' kill that Governor if it'd be the last he'd ever do. He'd do it for her.
But he couldn't leave her here like this, knowing she wasn't awake yet. He couldn't leave.
He took a step forward, hesitant, fingering the necklace in one hand.
"Don't know what to say," he mumbled. He watched the steady rise and fall of her chest, the way her eyes flickered in sleep.
His feet carried him over to her where he dropped onto the bed at her side, softly. She didn't stir, even as he shifted closer to her and his hip rested against her arm.
He wanted her to wake up. He wanted those eyes to open and look at him with everything he'd ever denied.
"Carol," he said, reaching out hesitantly to touch her arm. When his fingers grazed over her, and she didn't move, didn't stir at his touch like she normally did, he felt his heart deflate.
His head dropped, and his shoulders hunched. His fingers curled around her arm, his thumb running against her skin gently. "I ain't never been good at talkin'," he confessed, but he knew she already knew that.
"Ya always did that for us," he continued quietly, still caressing her arm.
He didn't know what to say as he let silence fall between them. He didn't know what to say but what was in his heart. And he'd never been good at admitting those feelings.
"I need ya to wake up," he begged, bending toward her, letting the chain fall to the bed at her side. He clutched at her hand, careful to be gentle with her wounds.
"Please," he pleaded, dropping his forehead to her shoulder, listening to her steady breathing. "Please wake up."
Why did everyone have to leave him? Why was it that when he was just starting to care, when he was just starting to love that everybody left him? Nobody ever stayed for long. Nobody ever stayed for him.
That's why he never let nobody in. He was sick and fuckin' tired of bein' hurt. He was sick of his heart bein' the only thing that got hurt.
"Don't you leave me too," he choked out, feeling the tears slip down his cheeks. He couldn't remember the last time he'd cried for anybody. He'd never cried for his ol' man. Never cried for Merle. Never even cried for his Ma.
"Sophia…" He looked up, gripping her hand hard. He couldn't remember when she'd last talked about Sophia. He couldn't remember the last time they'd even mentioned her name.
Why the hell would she be callin' out her name now, while she was sleepin'?
Panic struck him in the chest like one of his ol' man's punches.
Sophia was dead. She was dead. The only reason Carol had to be talking to Sophia was because-
"Wake up," he cried out, cupping her cheek in his hand. He leaned down, touching their foreheads together, his tears falling to her cheeks.
"Goddammit Carol, wake up," he begged, closing his eyes.
"Wake up," he whispered.
XXX
"You have to go." No she didn't. She wouldn't. She couldn't. Not after everything that he had done for her. All the times he had protected her, after he had searched for Sophia, after he had taught her how to protect herself. He'd kept her alive all this time and now look what had happened.
He was gone.
"Mom." She ignored her, curling tighter into Daryl's side. She didn't want to go, didn't want to leave him. He was all she had left now, the only thing that had really mattered in the world. She wouldn't listen to that voice that wasn't really there.
She couldn't do that either.
"He's gone Mom," she said quietly. She shook her head, burying her face into his side, inhaling the scent of the leather. She didn't want to lose that.
"I can't leave him," she moaned, the tears falling down her cheeks. He still hadn't stirred, and she kept waiting for his body to start twitching with the new awakening. She kept waiting for him to become a walker.
She had to see it, had to see his eyes. Once she saw the color as anything other than his blue she'd know it was time for her to go as well.
"Yes you can," she said with more conviction this time. She didn't want to turn around and see her either; Sophia.
Because that's whose voice was behind her. Her daughter. The one thing she had cared for above all others before the world had gone to shit. The one thing that had saved her time and again when she had thought Ed was going to kill her. The one thing that had lit up her world when all she had seen was darkness.
"He's all I have left now," Carol whispered, clutching at his jacket tightly. She didn't want to let him go, not yet.
She felt a hand on her shoulder and flinched. She was too scared to turn and look.
What if she saw the face of the walker again? What if it wasn't her daughter she saw looking back at her?
"I know Mom," she said, with so much understanding that Carol couldn't help but turn. And there was Sophia, clean, and brown-eyed. Older too.
She couldn't help but reach out to touch her cheek. How she had missed Sophia, so much.
"Sophia," she said softly, confused but so glad to see her. Sophia nodded, her blonde locks falling across her cheeks. Sophia reached out, cupping her mother's cheek.
"You have to go back Mom." Carol shook her head confused, afraid. She didn't know what Sophia wanted from her, but she wasn't ready to leave Daryl yet. She'd already lost one person in her life, and she wasn't ready to lose the only other one she had left.
"I know you love him," she said, eyes sparkling mischievously, "and he needs you." Confusion gripped her hard. She didn't know what Sophia was talking about.
"I miss you," Sophia said, the tears suddenly glistening in her eyes, as the words stuck in her throat, "but I'm not ready to see you yet. I want to see you live." Carol rolled onto her back, and grabbed onto Sophia's arm, running her hand through her hair.
"Sophia," she crooned.
"Wake up Mom," she murmured, bending low to hug her, wrapping her arms around her in a feather light hug. Carol felt her chest ache suddenly, and her back flared in pain. She curled in her toes as the skin on her feet tightened painfully.
But it was the warmth of the body next to her that she gravitated towards.
"Wake up."
XXX
When he opened his eyes, he was lying on the bed next to her, his back to the door. He panicked for a moment. He never left his back to the door, ever. He could remember all the times his ol' man had come in through the door and had knocked the wind out of him. Or the time he'd dragged him out a the bed just to carve another mark onto him. Or the time he'd choked him in his sleep.
All because he'd fallen asleep with his back to the door. He'd never let that happen again.
And then his eyes found hers. She was laying still, body curled into his, head on his arm. His other arm was draped over her waist as her hands fisted in his shirt. He didn't know when that had happened, or how. He wasn't too sure it mattered to him either. Because her blue eyes stared into his, wide and clear. She was awake. She was fucking awake.
"Carol-"
And then she leaned forward, cutting him off, to press her lips softly, gently to his. His eyes went wide in surprise, as her arm shifted around his waist, under his arm. She gripped the back of his shirt desperately, pulling her body closer to his.
When he felt her chest rest against his and her heart beating hard, his eyes closed and his lips softened against hers. He reached up to press his hand against her back, feeling the bandages there, knowing what was there, and slipped his hand down further across her shoulder blades; caressing her like she was the most fragile thing he had to break. And right now, she was. She was fragile, and hurt, and she was here in his arms right now kissing him.
He wasn't going to let any of that go.
Her breath shuddered across his cheeks and she pulled away, running her cheek across his to bury her face in the crook of his neck.
"You're here," she breathed, burrowing into him deeper. He didn't want to let her go. Didn't want to understand why he suddenly couldn't let her go, or why he had to keep his arms wrapped so firmly around her.
All he knew was that he didn't want to let her go.
"Yer awake," he breathed, pulling her tighter against him, careful of her back. Always careful. She shuddered against him.
"Sophia," she murmured, her breath washing against his skin, making him shiver. He ran a hand through her hair, and couldn't help but kiss her neck, right where her jugular vein was.
She would never know just how happy he was that she was alive. She turned to look up at him, her eyes shining with tears.
"Sophia told me you were waiting," she admitted, biting her bottom lip. He watched her for a moment, thinking back on the little girl he had tried so desperately to save.
"She told you?" Carol nodded, eyes wary. He chewed his bottom lip. She looked scared to tell him that, like he would think she were crazy for dreaming up her little girl. But no one had ever known just how many times he'd dreamed up Merle.
No one had ever known how many times Merle had saved him in those dreams.
He leaned forward and kissed her forehead, and then her eyes, and then he found her lips again. Soft, tender. He had always wanted to know just what it was like to kiss her. He felt her hand clutch desperately at him, shaking, and the tears slide down her cheeks against his. He pulled away, and wiped at her tears.
"Gonna have to tell her I owe her one," he said softly. And for a moment, he thought he'd said the wrong thing. But then she laughed, and started crying again, and closed her eyes as she rested her head against his.
"Maybe later," she said, and buried herself against him, buried herself into his arms. Like she never wanted to leave him. Like she wanted to bury herself under his skin.
He grunted his agreement. He wasn't letting her go, ever.
A/N: The unconscious Daryl death scene was, in part, inspired by witnesstoitall's story Beyond Help. I have no original claim to such a thing. I would highly recommend taking a trip over to her page, and checking her things out. She'll love you for doing so. And Sophia made an appearance here because I believe that Caryl would be nothing without her. Thank you so much for reading this you guys. You don't know how much I love you for that.
I've been giving some thought to if this is completed or not. I don't know. You're reviews would be graciously loved.