Morning came.
Carol was still sleeping beside him. So it was real. For a split second on waking, Daryl was sure he'd had a terrible nightmare. His memories were confused, details slipping away as dreams do. But then he felt Carol at his side. They were both fully clothed, and someone had pulled a blanket from the top bunk to keep the chill away.
It was real. All of it.
He didn't move for fear of waking her. It was inevitable, of course, but he didn't know what she would expect of him now. The flood of possibilities rushing through his head left him paralyzed. He wasn't sure what he felt. At the moment, he didn't know if he felt anything at all. Surely he should feel something - sorrow for his dead brother, regret for his actions last night, appreciation for the woman next to him. But there was nothing. Maybe he'd overloaded, burned himself out. Maybe he'd never feel anything ever again. He couldn't decide if that would be good or bad.
Carol stirred beside him. He didn't know what to do, so he waited.
With an intake of breath, she opened her eyes. Blinking, she tilted her chin up to look at him. She didn't immediately flinch away, so he relaxed a tiny bit. Smiling slightly, she slid her hand from its resting place on his chest up to his jaw, where her thumb stroked the scruff that grew there. She made no move to snuggle closer or kiss him, which was a relief. Despite what happened last night, he wasn't ready for that kind of physical intimacy. She understood him so well – how he felt, what he needed, when to push and when to stop.
"Hey," he ventured.
"Hey. You want breakfast?" The normalcy of the question seemed absurd in relation to the string of events leading to this moment.
"Sure," he replied.
With a deep breath and a groan of satisfaction, she stretched mightily before rolling out from under the woolen blanket.
"Oatmeal OK? It's quick. We have a lot of work to do this morning." Her last statement was just shy of being a question.
He frowned. Of the things he still remembered from yesterday, today's plans weren't included.
"You can get the details from Rick, but we're packing everything up. We'll be ready to run if we have to, but we're going to try to chase them off. I don't know if it'll work, but there's a shot. Thanks to Merle." She looked down at him on the bunk, her eyes taking in every tiny movement, every hint of what he might be thinking.
At the mention of his brother's name, a pinprick of feeling awakened in Daryl's chest. Sorting through the blur in his memory, he picked out details of the granary – a great many dead bodies, some long dead, some fresh. The Governor's men. Somehow, Merle had taken down a large number of the Governor's men. Merle had done that for them. For him.
The crack in his heart broke open again as the weight of feeling increased. He couldn't sort out what the feelings were – they were too many, too strong, and they were jumbled up and confused. But it turned out he was glad to feel something again. To know he wasn't broken. Feeling something was a good thing, even if the feelings hurt.
"Come on, slugabed. Let's go eat. You can talk to Rick while I get the oatmeal ready."
As his attention turned back to her, the feelings shifted. What he felt for her was still confusing, but mostly it felt good. Good enough that it both excited and terrified him. He wanted to reach for her, but didn't know how.
He could see in her eyes that she knew he was struggling, and that she was there if he needed her. She was always there for him. If someone were to ask what Carol was to him, he wouldn't be able to answer. He was sure no one had invented the right words yet.
He untangled his feet from the blanket and kicked it to a heap at the end of the bed. He stood, but neither of them moved for the door. In that moment of stillness, they watched each other. The first of the morning sun streamed into the windows of the cell block, the warm light catching her hair and shining in her eyes. The roaring inside him calmed. He twitched his mouth in a half smile to let her know he was OK for now.
She understood.
I thought I was done with this story, but it turns out I wanted a segue from the last chapter to the snippet at the beginning of 3 x 16 (Welcome to the Tombs). In that moment, he was so ready to take the hand she offered. And that look? I love that look.
