Summary: Difficult as it might have been to drive the vehicle steadily with only one hand on the wheel, Daryl did his best to keep his eyes focused on the road ahead them, snuggling her against his tensed body with his other hand. Time was menacingly ticking inside his head.
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Twenty minutes earlier
He slammed on the gas pedal harder, to the point he thought he may actually break it and felt a piercing pain climbing up his thigh. The truck was almost flying on the road, wheels barely touching the ground, but as the speedometer hit one hundred miles per hour, it felt like they were moving ridiculously slow, never reaching their destination. Difficult as it might have been to drive the vehicle steadily with only one hand on the wheel, Daryl did his best to keep his eyes focused on the road ahead them, snuggling her against his tensed body with his other hand. Time was menacingly ticking inside his head.
"Take your foot off the gas, before you get me killed, Daryl," she murmured against his neck. "I'm supposed to cook dinner tonight."
Damn woman. "If you can do it better, feel free to take over," he snarled, silently wishing she could actually do that.
"The brakes are right there… Remind me to show you later," her voice was fading with every passing minute, but she kept teasing him.
"Shut up, smartass," he scolded her.
"Car accidents in the middle of the apocalypse are so not cool. Walkers will get to us before the firemen do," she whispered.
"We're almost there," he ignored her. "Hang on," hitting the gas again and cussing under his breath. She was bleeding out fast, his own arm and clothes were soaked in her blood.
Shit. It had been a good day, they were actually having fun. When did everything go south?
Earlier that day
They had gone for a supply run. Carol was all over the place, chatting happily and hanging her head out of the passenger's window every now and then during the ride, enjoying the chilly breeze against her face. It felt like forever since the last time she'd left the prison. First it was the baby, then the Governor's threat, then the full-blown war, then all these newcomers from Woodbury that had to settle down. She had started to feel like a convict.
Daryl had sternly turned down her offers to join him and the others more times than she could count, barking at Maggie and Michonne when they took her side. Michonne had almost drawn her katana on him once and Maggie refused to speak to him for days. The three of them had instrumented an entire conspiracy to get Carol outside the fence, before she lost her mind. Poor Glenn was dragged in this against his better judgment, succumbing to Maggie's persistence, so the next time Rick pointed out they needed supplies Glenn replied he was too tired and he'd rather stay back to spend some lazy time with Maggie who kept nodding in agreement the whole time. Daryl had raised his eyebrow and drifted his eyes to Carol, who smiled at him innocently. When he asked Michonne, she folded her arms in her chest stating "I don't feel like it", driving him so mad, he actually lost his words. Rick seemed really confused, everyone was usually more than willing to go for a run and he had made it clear that he intended to stick to the prison for a while to resume his parenting duties. Carl's recently revealed bloodlust after shooting in cold blood that kid in the woods and the fact that he still refused to accept the new additions from Woodbury made Rick really worried about his son's upbringing.
"I can go," Carol offered flatly, not even glancing at Daryl's ominous glare she just knew was there.
"Ok, great!" Rick breathed out relieved and she stood up to get ready, trying to mask her excitement with a face of indifference.
She was certain Daryl had figured out their little plot immediately, but she didn't care as long as she got to get away from this damned place for a few hours. Especially with him. Once they hopped in the truck and drove outside the fence, she couldn't help but grin widely to herself. Hearing him snorting next to her brought her back to reality and she felt her cheeks blushing.
"You follow my lead and stay close," he growled pointing a finger at her. "You are not allowed to take initiatives."
She nodded. "Everything you say." She was too content from the outcome to argue with him.
Seeing her beaming with enthusiasm made it really hard for him to stay angry. He tried to preserve his frowned and cranky face, but her cheerful babbling distracted him after a while and the next time he reminded himself what a deceitful little creature she was, it was too late to go back. He was enjoying her company, talking and joking more than usual and cracking his crooked smile way more times than he meant to.
After a couple of hours, they reached a small village they had never scavenged before, parked their truck in the outskirts and started checking out houses. Daryl was taking out most of the walkers inside them, but she had her fair share of kills, as well. When she dug her knife in the scull of a six feet walker who surprised her from behind and saw a spark of pride glistening in his eyes, she smiled, rubbing off the blood that had spilled on her face with the back of her hand. He had trained her well. And yes, she was having a great time. With him.
Not finding a lot of useful things in the residences, they headed a bit deeper into the village, encountering no more than a few walkers wandering aimlessly in the streets, nothing they couldn't handle, but managed to pass them by mostly unnoticed, moving fast and quietly. Daryl had trouble staying alert, finding her presence in his tail distracting, although she was behaving, following his orders religiously. A few minutes later she nudged him, pointing towards what looked like a small store a few blocks down and he nodded.
The place was a goldmine. It was completely free of walkers and although already ransacked, plenty of stuff was still on the shelves. Sponges, shower gels, shampoos, sanitary products, painkillers, toilet paper had filled their back packs in minutes. They even picked a large box of condoms exchanging a shy look. "For Maggie and Glenn," Carol had shrugged it off, wishing silently she got to use some of them soon. With him.
After a while, confident that the place was secure, they drifted away from each other, Daryl trying to enter the locked storage room and Carol searching the drawers under the cash desk. He swore loudly, pondering on whether shooting the lock and attracting walkers straight to them was worth it and spun around to let her know. Everything happened simultaneously, then.
She spotted an armed man in the street the same moment the man saw her and they locked eyes, both drawing their guns on each other. "Daryl! Fall down!" she screamed and the next moment bullets and fragments from the shop window started flying all around them.
He fell on his knees and started crawling his way, desperate to reach her. She was returning the fire, bent behind a wall, but her position was very exposed and she seemed cornered. Daryl started shooting too against the man he identified as Martinez, but his field of vision was limited from where he was standing. Swearing again, he took a few steps closer to her. From the corner of his eye, he caught Shumpert emerging behind the corner of the street, his gun raised and firing, realizing he would have a clear shot to Carol in a matter of seconds.
"Move, Carol! Move!" he yelled, jumping right in the middle of the crossfire to cover her, watching her as she tried to run a few feet away, only to slip and land hard on her stomach. Shumpert was covering Martinez's retreat and they both disappeared behind the corner, fleeing the place.
Daryl stormed to her side and felt nauseated at the sight. She had rolled over, laying on her back now, taking out a sharp piece of glass that was stuck in her stomach, blood spreading across her shirt. He felt his gut twisting and panic rushed into his body, looking at the painful expression of her face. She was shaking uncontrollably from the shock of the unexpected battle and the excruciating pain.
"Don't move." he ordered. Shit. He had to evaluate the damage.
"I'm… I'm fine…" she stuttered, her voice trembling. "I just sl… slipped… The glass…"
"I know." he interrupted her, hating the underlying panic in his voice. "You did well."
His hands were working frantically now. He ripped her shirt open to expose a deep wound. He tried to apply some pressure, but blood was spurting between his fingers. Shit.
"Press it here," he said trying hard to sound composed and terribly failing, placing her hand to the spot his own rested a moment ago. "Press it!" he snapped when he felt her limb weak under his grip. Carol eyed him warily, searching for his eyes, trying her best to do exactly as she was told.
He instantly unrolled the scarf she was wearing around her neck and started tearing it off in shreds. "It's ok," she sounded calmer now. "It's not that deep, don't worry," she went on. God, she hated how scared he looked. His brow was furrowed, deep wrinkles engraved in it, eyes narrowed and lips pressed.
Was she going to comfort him now? As if there was a tiny chance this wasn't his fault? All he had to do was keep a fuckin' eye on her! "We have to move. We have to get you back to Hershel," he murmured, tying the strips of the garment together. "You're gonna be just fine," he emphasized, addressing more to himself than to her. He froze for a moment, petrified by the echo of his words in his ears. That was exactly what he'd told her when Sophia went missing and then…
He blinked and swallowed hard, trying to shove the thought away. Losing a Peletier wasn't happening to him again, no fuckin' way. He couldn't afford to fall apart now, he had to stop the bleeding, or at least limit it until he got her back to the prison safely. His heart was pounding in his chest, his breaths coming out ragged; she was losing a lot of blood.
"I know," Carol reassured him. She was aware of the blood loss she was suffering. It was evident from her head that was getting lighter and the dizziness claiming her clarity, but she tried to focus on her breathing to remain composed, never complaining for the sharp pain that penetrated her body. Daryl looked like he was on the verge of freaking out any moment now. What the hell had happened to him? He was always so calm under pressure, keeping his shit together he called it, always looked like he never lost control of a situation; he and Rick had led them through every hell they had stomped into confidently and kept them safe. And now he was losing it for a freaking glass. She was such a fool for causing this mess.
He rolled her on one side and again on her back and wrapped the makeshift gauze tightly around her, his expert fingers tying an adept, firm knot. That was pretty much all he could do right now. Satisfied by the result, he lifted his head to look at her for the first time. She was so pale, his chest tightened. The sudden moves made the ceiling spin around and she wanted to throw up, but remained silent nevertheless.
He stood up to check the area around them. No one was anywhere to be seen, no apparent threat. "We have to move," he repeated.
"Ok, I can walk," she tried to sound sure for herself, but her attempt to get up to her elbows failed miserably.
"The hell you can." he dismissed her quickly. Her eyes were blurry and uncoordinated, he felt sick. This wasn't supposed to happen.
He kneeled down again to lift her up, but her arm yanked to stop him.
"No, Daryl, no!" she pleaded wide-eyed. "If anyone is hiding out there, you can't fight carrying me. And the walkers… Better get the truck here."
He hesitated for a moment. Fuck. She was right, he knew she was right. With his hands occupied, if Martinez and Shumpert were still lurking for them, they would make the easiest target since the dawn of time. But if they were still out there, she'd probably be dead before he even reached the truck, let alone everything that could happen to him out there and then she'd be left there all alone, bleeding out, terrified. Let alone the walker threat. Shit. No matter what he did, he just couldn't keep this woman safe, could he? No. He couldn't just leave her there; if that meant he got shot down the moment he stepped outside holding her in his arms, so be it. At least they'd get to die together.
"No. We'll take our chances." he stated adamantly, scooping her up carefully and settling her head on his shoulder, noticing that, despite her discontent, she was too groggy to truly resist to him. Shit. He had to get her back.
Carol saw everything through a haze, not really able to keep track of their whereabouts while he was jogging, holding her tightly. Irony was, regardless her poor condition, she actually enjoyed the sense of his strong arms around her, the warmth of his body pressed against hers and the hot, labored breaths that burnt her face every time he dipped his head to check on her. She couldn't say for sure, but she thought he held her a little tighter than necessary and the mere thought caused a jolt of happiness in her chest. She mentally kicked herself. There she was, bleeding out on him the first time she managed to go on a run and yet savoring his embrace. She couldn't die like this, Daryl would never forgive himself if anything happened to her on his watch, she had to stay alive for him. Not that it would be a bad death, dying clinging to his body. God knew she could do much worse than that. Only she had zero interest in dying, anyway. Their time wasn't up yet, there were so many things she still wanted to live with this man. So many things she wanted to do with him. With him.
Twice he had to gently put her down to fight off some stray walkers who blocked their way, smashing their heads with a ferocity that shocked him, and each time he returned to pick her up, he felt his heart breaking at the sight of her slouched body. When they finally made it to the truck, Daryl violently swung the driver's door open, panting, exhausted from running all the way back carrying her weight, but grateful they had made it there. Soon he'd get her to Hershel. She was gonna be just fine. She had to. Carol couldn't die like this. Not with him right there.
He drove as fast as the truck could go, maybe too fast, but they had to be back as soon as possible. It had taken them almost two hours to get there, but he had taken his time back then, to save the gas he had told himself, but he knew that he just wanted their ride to last longer. He was sure he could make it back in less than an hour.
"Way to impress a girl with your driving skills," she commented playfully.
"You'd better focus on staying awake," his voice came out harder that he meant. He was just so freaking scared he wanted to throw her a shit storm of temper.
"Ok, I'll stop." she agreed. She was feeling too fuzzy anyway.
Daryl's stomach jumped at his throat. She couldn't stop, she wouldn't stop; she just never stopped, no matter what he did or said, ever. The fact that she quit so easily meant her strength was wearing off. "No, you keep your mouth talking and stay awake."
"Fine…" she complied. "I did well, didn't I?" She needed him to be proud of her.
"Yeah, as well as I'd do." Relief overwhelmed him. She was still there with him. He had to keep her awake, even if that meant he had to keep talking for an hour. "God help us all if you ever get mad holding a gun."
"Does this mean I get to join you for a run again?" she tried, although she knew the answer.
"Hell no!" he groaned. "You're never stepping a foot outside the prison again."
"Wanna bet?" she giggled.
"What, you think I didn't figure out your little show this morning? Fuckin' female conspiracy?" he asked sarcastically.
"Just hoped you wouldn't bring it up, I guess," she sighed her disappointment.
No. She had to keep talking. He had to keep her talking. "You are in so big trouble, all of you. You have no idea," he chuckled, trying to sound amused.
"It's was my idea. No one else to blame," she confessed.
"Of course it was. I only feel sorry for Glenn. I'm sure he put up a fight, but never stood a chance against Maggie." She laughed weakly against his chest. "And that's why I'll tie you up on your bed". There, no way she'd let that one fall.
"Really? And do what?" she challenged him. If he was mad later, she could always invoke temporary insanity due to extensive blood loss. Granted she survived this, of course.
He blushed despite himself. She would embarrass him relentlessly, after all. But he didn't care; not with the fear of losing her hanging over his head. "Fuck you, Carol. I'll chain you up against a wall if I have to, but you're not going anywhere, ever again."
"A girl can dream," she kept pushing herself to tease him. She could hear his heart racing under his chest; she didn't want him to worry too much for her.
"Fuck you." he faked a growl again.
"Only with you," she followed his lead. She knew what he was doing, but pretended she didn't. Her eyelids were too heavy now, she felt them closing off and struggled to flutter them open. She had to stay awake. At least she was glad he was resting his chin on her head and couldn't see her face.
"Shit. You're bleeding out and still can't talk about anything else."
"Don't get your hopes too high. Getting rid of me will be a lot harder than that," she played along. What she meant was that she'd do anything in her power not to leave him. But she was in pain. And she felt so tired.
"Good. Keep talking." he grunted.
Now
They were almost there. She had put quite a fight there to remain awake, Daryl was proud of her, but it was clear her energy was ebbing off and for the last few minutes, she was slipping in and out of consciousness. As his own adrenaline was fading away, he felt despair pumping through his veins. They were both soaked in blood and she kept fuckin' bleeding. No. He couldn't let this happen. No.
"We're almost there," he repeated loudly for the hundredth time and watched her eyes shoot open. He had readjusted her in his arms to be able to see her face a while ago and he'd swear she hadn't even noticed.
"I'm coming again. Promise me." And that was the hundredth time she asked the same thing.
"You keep telling yourself that," he huffed absentmindedly, but tugged her closer. Where the fuck was the fuckin' prison?
"Please? If I don't die?"
"You're gonna be just fine," he hissed, doubt lingering in his tone.
He grabbed her wrist, placing two fingers on the skin above the artery to check her pulse. His heart sank; it was weak and erratic. No. No.
"Dying already?" she poked him.
He wanted to promise her that if she didn't die, he would give her anything she wanted. Supply runs couldn't even begin to cover it. She could join him in every fuckin' watch, tease him all she wanted, go hunting with him, laugh loudly and scare his prey away every single time. Hell, he would quit doing anything altogether and just take care of her, never letting her out of his sight again, carry her in his arms anywhere if she didn't feel like walking. He shook his head, startled at his own thoughts. All that didn't sound like either of them. He must have been really desperate, being willing to make all this crazy promises when all she wanted was to join them to the supply runs. But he couldn't give her that, not just yet. His reluctance to step down was what kept this argument alive and that argument kept her talking.
"You wouldn't dare. You go ahead and die on me; I'll kick your ass big time."
"That'd be a little too late for that…" she whispered meekly.
"Naw… No way you're biting the dust before grasping the chance to screw around with me." He was torturing her now and he knew it, but she had to stay awake. And that was the best card he had to play. They were close. So fuckin' close.
She could hardly make out his words out, all she felt were numbness and a wildfire burning in her stomach, ready to consume her the moment she gave up. But what he said managed to catch her attention. "Keeping me motivated, Daryl?" she sighed. She really wanted to screw around with him; seriously. She would. If she didn't die, she would. She'd better not die then.
"Yeap. I am." So close.
"I'll remember that," she tried to laugh, but the words came out mumbled.
She was so white, it scared the shit out of him. Her face seemed drained from blood and a deathly pallor distorted her features. And it seemed forever since the last time she had opened her eyes. "Hey… How are you feeling?" he shook her lightly. They were almost there. Almost.
"Wanna talk about… about… feelings now?" That would probably be her last attempt to joke. She could barely move her lips anymore. She definitely couldn't fight anymore. Shit. What would he do if she passed out on him? She wished she didn't have to put him through this. But it was beyond her reach.
"Shit. Can't you just answer a damned question?"
"Tired." she whispered almost too low for him to listen. She had to try harder. Harder.
"We're almost there, ok?" He was brushing his cheek against her forehead now. No. No. She couldn't just slip away from him that easily; not when he was holding her so tight… And they were so fuckin' close.
"Hmm…" she had been hopelessly holding onto his voice for so long, she just couldn't anymore. All she wanted was to sob in defeat for not getting as much as a last glimpse of him; her eyelids were not obeying her.
He shook her again, this time violently. "Are you fuckin' listening to me?" he yelled angrily. If he was trying so hard, she had to fuckin' do the same.
"Yeah… We're… almost… there…" The sound of his voice was so distant…
"Good girl. Keep talking." he demanded.
"Can't… Sor…" her voice faded. Darkness.
Her head fall back. "Carol?" he suddenly felt a huge lump in his throat choking him, almost losing control of the vehicle. This wasn't happening. They were so close. So close.
"Carol! Fuck!" he was suffocating, unable to get air in his lungs.
His heart was skipping beats as he leaned over her to put his ear over her nostrils; still breathing. "You're not dying. You're not going anywhere," he whispered, squeezing her limp, slumped all over him body against his, oblivious to the hot tears streaming down his face.
The shape of the prison gate loomed in the distance.
To be continued…
I apologize for the cliffhanger, I promise I'll try to make it up to you.
Any thoughts on how you want this to play out?
Thank you for reading :) Your reviews would be much appreciated.
Second and last part of this drabble coming soon!
"It's so much darker when a light goes out than it would have been if it had never shone."
― John Steinbeck, The Winter of Our Discontent
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