Fandom: The Walking Dead
Characters: Carol, Daryl and ensemble.
Genre: Gen with a touch of angst
Warnings: Brit/Australian writing about Americans / Ed Peletier being an arsehole (asshole) / unbetaed
Summary: Carol realises she's no longer alone. Set pre-season 1.
Flesh and Blood (2/2)
Later, when they've all eaten, Shane calls a meeting and Carol goes down to the lake. Makes a start on the laundry because she knows where she's not needed. Dale joins her after a while. The hat is off again and he rubs at the top his head as he sits down on a rock beside her.
"We could use a mother's touch back there," he says, and he looks tired. As if every one of his years is a weight holding him down. "Sometimes they're like a bunch of rowdy kids, each one trying to talk over the others."
"Not sure that a scolding would help matters," she says, sitting up and pushing the palms her wet hands against her lower back.
"I was thinking a spanking might be more the thing," says Dale, with a small shake of his head and half a smile.
She turns her attention back to the washing. Dale stays and stays quiet after she turns down his offer to help.
She hears movement and assumes it's Lori or one of the other women until the heavy footfalls register. She tenses, holds her breath as her stomach twists.
"It's Merle," says Dale, voice quiet, like he knows what she was thinking.
"You seen my shit-for-brains lil' brother," Merle says.
Carol keeps her back to him. He leers at all the women, even though she's sure he has no interest in someone like her. She's tempted to touch her hair but keeps both hands tangled in the wet shirt as she rubs it against the washboard.
"Not since this morning," says Dale.
She hears Merle spit, then draw in a breath like he's about to yell.
"I'm here" says Daryl, popping up from behind rocky embankment on the other side of the lake. He doesn't raise his voice but it carries anyway. "Jesus Christ, no need to fuckin' shout."
His crossbow is loaded and pointed toward the ground. He looks like some kind of elemental demon, skin covered in grime and sweat. Carol has no idea how long he's been sitting there.
"Don't you tell me what I can and can't do," says Merle, "where the fuck's that deer you were gonna bring back?"
Daryl, hunches slightly, turning his back to them.
"Lost the trail," he says.
"Whowee," says Merle, drawing out the sound, "I fucking told you. I fucking told you. Two days and you got nothin'. You get lost or something Darlene? Cryin' in the woods cause you're a fuckin' useless piece o' piss. You are full of shit lil' brother. Now come over here and give your big brother a hug. Tell me I was right."
Carol turns her head slightly to look at Dale. He's sitting unnaturally still.
"'M fine here," says Daryl, before disappearing behind the embankment once more.
"You son of whore," says Merle, "don't you make me come over there and whoop your pansy ass."
She flinches as Dale pulls at her shoulders, tugging her backwards away from Merle as he charges into the river. They both watch as he tries to cross the water, howling insults, and thrashing when the water gets to deep to stand. Carol leans forward to gather the clothes and washboard from where they fell. She's almost certain Merle can swim.
"I believe the expression is 'high as kite'," Dale mutters, stretching forward to help her.
After a few minutes Merle seems to give up, turning and making his way back to their side of the lake.
"What the fuck are you lookin' at," he says, lips twisting.
Carol looks down as Dale says:
"Nothing. We're not looking at anything."
"I'm not talkin' to you, you old cunt," he stops beside them crouches down, leaning into her space and grabbing the side of her face. Forcing her to look at him. "I'll ask again, what the fuck are you lookin' at."
She's pressed up against one of Dale's legs and she can feel a slight tremble, although she's not sure if it's his or her own. Merle's breath is hot and stale, his pupils so large and black she can see her reflection in them. He's big and mean and drugged up to his eyeballs but he's not Ed.
"You," she says, not breaking eye contact, "I'm looking at you."
He doesn't let go, just starts laughing like it's the punchline to the best joke he's ever heard. There's an elastic twanging sound and an arrow lodges itself in the ground less than inch away from Merle's left boot. He lets go of her, falling backward, eyes wide and mouth open.
There's no sign of Daryl on the other side of the water.
"You lil' shit," Merle says, but his black mood seems to have disappeared.
He looks at the arrow, mouth turned upward at one corner. He gets to his feet, shaking himself like a dog once he's upright, little droplets of dirty water flying everywhere. Carol watches as they hit the clothes and knows they'll need washing again.
"Fuck this," says Merle, smiling so wide they can see almost every one of his teeth, "I need a quick fuck and smoke but I guess a shit in the woods will have to do."
He reaches forward, open palm smacking Dale on the back as he laughs at his own joke.
"You feel me ol' man?"
"Yes, I certainly do," says Dale, but Merle's already gone; they can hear him whistling as he makes his way back up to the camp.
"Those Dixon boys," Dale says softly, as he helps set everything back up, so she can start the laundry again, "they certainly make life interesting."
Carol watches the embankment, wondering if Daryl's still there. She pulls the arrow out from where it landed. It's light-weight and clean except for the tip and smudges of dirt near the fletching, where he must have held it. She contemplates washing it in the river, but in the end decides to tuck it carefully under her legs, thinking she might ruin it by cleaning it incorrectly.
Dale clears his throat and holds out his hands for some soap and dirty laundry. This time she accepts his offer.
He keeps looking over at her in between washing the clothes. His motions are unpracticed and clumsy but he's trying and she's grateful for it.
"Are you ok?"
She concentrates on a stain that's marked Sophia's favourite blue shirt. It's a mustard colour and Carol doesn't really want to know the details. Her daughter and Carl have taken to catching crickets and other insects, which may have something to do with it.
"I'm fine," she says.
"I'm not just talking about what happened with Merle," he says, reaching behind them to grab another piece of clothing.
"I'm fine," she says again, looking out across the water and wanting it to be true.
Dale makes the kind of humming noise which could mean anything.
"You know," he says, rubbing soap against faded denim, "Merle may be, well, difficult, but the younger one, I reckon he's not as bad."
Carol cocks her head to one side to show she's listening.
"I mean, take this morning for example, he took last watch, unasked, no less and much to Theodore's delight. That boy needs more sleep than anyone else I've ever met. Did I tell you about when he-"
"Dale," she says, with a little smile to let him know that there's no malice in the interruption.
"Ah, yes," he says, clearing his throat again, "well Daryl not only kept watch, he also took the time to fold up the blanket we keep up there. Very neat folding too. Usually he just bunches it up, leaves it on the seat. I'm guessing we might just be a good influence on him."
He nudges her side gently with his elbow, his expression kind, and she realises he knows who really did the folding.
"So," he says, turning back to the washing, "all I'm saying is that I get the impression that underneath all that dirt there may actually be a redeemable young man."
Carol, thinks about the careful way Daryl had held that flashlight. The sound of the water is soothing and for a moment they could be anywhere. Just two old friends on holiday, making conversation before heading home. The sky is a perfect, clear blue, not a cloud in sight. She tips her head back and closes her eyes so that the harsh light of the sun becomes a red glow.
"Yes," she says, "I think so too."
The sky is a wash of pale pinks and dusky oranges before she finds time to return the arrow. The brothers keep their tents on the very edge of the site. Daryl brings back food for the whole group but generally the Dixon's keep to themselves, look after their own laundry, repairs and supplies. She remembers how Daryl had reacted the first time she had bought him food from the main camp only a few days after they had settled here.
"What's this?"
He had been seated on a roughly cut log outside his tent, cleaning the crossbow in the fading light.
"Your share," she'd said, keeping her head down, "I wasn't sure if you knew you were welcome, so thought I'd bring some over. "
She'd looked up, stumbling over the last few words as the absurdity of the situation had hit her. He was looking at her like she was a walker, wary that she might bite, and she was cowering as though he were some kind of wild animal. Or Ed.
"Here," she'd said, pushing the bowl into his hands. "There's one here for your brother too."
He took both bowls, putting the second one on the ground and holding the first one to his chest. He didn't say anything just watched her, eyes narrowed. She got the strangest feeling he thought she might take the food back. Not a wild animal, she'd amended, more like a stray.
Ed's voice had shattered the moment and she'd flinched when she heard him calling for her. She hadn't known what to say so she simply left, hoping to get to her husband before Shane could lecture him again about volume control.
The next morning she had found two clean bowls outside her tent.
Their camp seems abandoned now. The small fire pit is filled with ash and both tents are zipped up. She holds the arrow in both hands, thinks about leaving it for Daryl to find but she's not sure which tent is his.
"You lost or somethin'?"
The sound of Daryl's voice makes her startle. She places one hand over her heart as she turns toward him. He's holding a bundle of sticks and branches and looks a little less filthy, hair wet and the layer of grime smudged and thinner in places. Like he's tried to wipe it off with a damp cloth.
"You s-," she rethinks what she was going to say. "You surprised me."
He sniffs loudly, moving toward the fire pit and crouching down.
"I just came to return your arrow," she says, watching as he scoops out the ash from the pit with his hands.
He doesn't answer, neatly piling up the sticks ready to for them to be lit when the sun goes down. When he gets up she holds the arrow out, but he walks past her and sits down on the log. She watches as he deliberately shifts over a few inches, almost an invitation. Ed's sitting with the others; they're discussing whether the next supply run should be as a group. She knows it'll be a while before she's missed.
"Merle's sleepin'," Daryl says, wiping his hand against his nose and leaving a trail of ash behind, "he won't be up and about anytime soon."
She takes a seat on the edge of the log careful not to crowd him. He accepts the arrow when she holds it out this time. They sit in silence but it's not uncomfortable and she doesn't plan on saying anything but for once the words come out all on their own.
"I was going to leave him," she says, resting her arms on her knees. "I had it all figured out. A local shelter agreed to take me and Sophia. I'd even packed all the bags."
Daryl doesn't say anything but he doesn't tell her to shut up either.
"Then, the day before, everything went to hell," she says, twisting the ring on her left hand. "Ed didn't even notice that I already had bags packed for me and Sophia. Just made a fuss about how we were slowin' him down."
She stops, feeling a little breathless, heart beating like she's been running.
"What're you tellin' me for?" says Daryl, using the tip of the arrow to make tiny holes in the ground by his feet.
She leans forward, fingers tracing the laces on her shoes.
"I guess I just wanted someone to know," she says eventually, sitting up and resting her crossed arms on her legs.
The daylight's almost completely disappeared and she should really return to the main camp.
"Hadn't seem Merle for three years," Daryl says, before she can stand up, "then he shows up at my door, yellin' bout the undead. Thought he was out of his mind 'til a couple of geeks turned up."
He's not looking at her but he's stopped poking at the ground. Elbows now on his knees and the arrow balanced on the edge of his right hand.
"Didn't expect to ever see him again. Not sure I wanted to."
She doesn't ask why, figures he'd tell if he wanted her to know.
"Everything's fucked up now. Gotta make different kinds of choices," he looks up at her, makes full eye contact for the first time, "but the end of the day he's my brother. The only person I got left."
She thinks they understand each other well enough.
The sun rises and sets, the stars still burn in far off galaxies and the seasons will continue to change but this quarry might as well be the end of the world. It might be for some of them.
She stands up, takes a deep breath and readies herself to leave. He doesn't try to stop her but some impulse makes her stay a moment longer.
"Daryl," she says, not quite looking at him, "you're right, about sticking with your family. But I think they're not the only people we have here. I guess we're not alone anymore"
His lips turn upwards and she thinks it might be the closest thing to a smile she's ever seen on his face.
He ducks his head and when she leaves he says: "G'night Carol."
She's going to ask the Morales family to let Sophia stay with Eliza again, she decides as she walks back towards the RV. Ed will whisper harsh words to her later, leave another trail of bruises, but her little girl will be safe for another night. In the morning she'll chat to Dale, help Lori with breakfast and laugh quietly with the other women while they do the chores and watch over the children. She silently vows to keep an eye out for Daryl as well, to make sure he gets his share. And she'll hold her daughter close whenever she's near.
It's the end of the world but she's not alone anymore.