Part 4: Stairway To Heaven
Disclaimer: It could not be less mine. The Walking Dead belongs to AMC, Robert Kirkman , Toby Moore and Charlie Adlard.
Author's note:
Again, thank you all so much for the reviews! Writing for a new fandom and pairing is always a little scary and you've all bee so encouraging!
This is going to be the last part for this story. I'm still experimenting with the characters, so this won't be a novel-length fic. But there'll definitely more, because this ship is frigging addictive!
Hope you'll enjoy this last bit – I felt like going out with a bit of fluff.
And so things returned to normal. Or as normal as things in a world infested with flesh-eating undead corpses on the loose got. He showed up for dinner again, discussed matters with Rick and went on runs with Maggie.
It was almost ridiculous how relieved it made her feel. For the past two days she´d had trouble trying to keep the grin that was constantly threatening off her face. For a few terrifying days she´d thought she´d lost him. Perhaps not physically, like the time he'd gone off with Merle, but still in every other way that mattered.
And by just looking at the faces of the members of their group, she could tell she wasn´t the only one feeling that way. Their episode had gone mostly unnoticed by the former Woodbury residents, but their closest of kin had suffered from it as well. And to her, their relief was just as obvious as her own. She noticed it by the little things. Rick was even more pointedly including him in decisions that needed to be made, relying even more on him than he´d done previously. Hershel was seeking him out more as well and somewhat to her surprise she saw that he was actually warming up to the older man.
The memory of Beth on the first evening he´d stepped into the cafeteria and lowered himself on his usual spot on the stairs still made her giggle. She´d stacked a plate to its fullest and brought it over to him. He´d looked absolutely bewildered at it, more so since she´d already gone to him earlier with a generous helping of stew.
In general the entire atmosphere in the prison seemed more relaxed now that this huge cloud had been lifted from him and consequently from them all.
It still baffled her that a man who was so observant as he was, who hardly missed anything that was going on around him and was always so quick to connect the dots, could be so completely blind to the fact that he was so much valued by the group. Quick to put the blame on himself and to believe that he was the failure, he still hadn´t fully comprehended just how much he was cared for.
To learn that he blamed himself for Sophia´s death, had been blaming himself for over a year tugged painfully at her heart. She understood him – understood how, in the face of so much pointless pain, the road to self-reproach was an easier one to take than to accept that there just wasn´t a reason. She understood, mostly because she´d seen every dark corner of that particular delusion herself, but she didn´t agree one bit and she was hell-bound on making him see how wrong he was on that score. Their conversation in the watch tower three days prior has only been the beginning.
His current state of mind offered her plenty opportunity to carry out her resolve. For the past few days he´d been in an odd mood. He was hanging around her a lot, constantly seeking her presence, reassuring her that he wasn´t pulling away from her anymore. But he was also quiet and withdrawn, only fleetingly making eye-contact and talking even less than he did before. She felt him staring at her, but he was always quick to advert his eyes the second she turned to him. The few times she´d been too fast for him she´d something like shame in them and she´d figured it out. She didn´t think he was still really blaming himself for what happened to Sophia, but she got that having one of his deepest fears revealed so openly must be highly unsettling for such a private man as Daryl Dixon. And as a result he was simply embarrassed as hell and horribly awkward around her.
So now she was determined to raise to the challenge and draw him out of shell. She´d be damned if she let anything ruin the comfortable ease between them. He was a good and honourable man and it was high time he let that little fact penetrate that stubborn skull of his.
She found him in the make-shift nursery, bouncing Judith on his arm. It was unbelievable how much the little girl had grown over the past months, despite everything that had happened around her. She wasn´t an infant anymore, tucked away in blankets, oblivious to the world. Eight months old now, she was happy and healthy, in her innocence not aware of any evil. Currently she was popped up on Daryl´s lower arm, leaning against his bicep as he used his other hand to support her back carefully. Judith was now fully capable of holding up her own head and she looked at him studiously with her wide, brown eyes, her small, plump hands tightly grabbing the collar of his shirt.
As she came closer she heard Daryl hum and sing bits and pieces of a song to her and the grin she´d tried to keep back all day finally spilled over her face as she recognized the tune. At the same time her heart fluttered a little at the sight of this perfectly peaceful scene. He seemed completely wrapped up in a world of his own, all of his attention focused on the toddler.
"Led Zeppelin?" she asked softly, not wanting to startle him.
To her surprise he didn't even flinch. He looked up slightly and she stepped even closer to them, effortlessly sliding into this little world of his.
"Don't know no nursery rhymes," he told her just as quietly, the corner of his mouth turning up in a smirk.
"All the better for her, I'd say," she smiled.
"Can't believe how big she's gettin'," he mused, trying to pry Judith's little fingers loose for the death-grip she had on his shirt.
"I know," she agreed readily. "She's even starting to talk a little… of course it's only jabber talk at this point, but I think we can expect her first word soon."
"Really?" He replied, looking a little doubtful. "So far I only heard her say dah… dah… dah…"
As if on cue, Judith gave a delightful giggle and mimicked his sound, letting go of his shirt and swatting her tiny hands against his face, cracking the both of them up.
"See, she's really trying to say something" Carol eventually pointed out, and after a heartbeat of hesitation she continued, "did you know Glenn has started a betting pool on what her first word will be? He reckons it'll either be 'daddy' or 'Daryl'."
He seemed completely floored by that piece of information and returned his attention back to Judith for a few moments. When he looked back at her though she was relieved to see that his smirk was still in place.
"So, who are you puttin' ya money on?" he asked, his tone teasing and his eyes finally remaining on hers for longer than few seconds.
She took his bait and decided to raise it a little. "You wanna know if I think you have what it takes to win the girl?" she asked him, looking him square in the eye.
As she'd suspected, his ears turned red at her comment and he looked down, shuffling his feet uncomfortably. Just then, Judith dropped off, falling asleep with her head snuggly against his shoulder, dispensing the sudden atmosphere of electricity between them.
"Can you believe that?" he asked, his voice filled with wonder. "She just drops out like a light… just like that,"
"Of course she does," Carol told him, her voice barely above a whisper. "She's completely safe."
If possible, this comment unsettled him more than her flirtatious words moments earlier. He didn't spoke a word, just looked at her, a thousand emotions raging through his eyes.
"I should probably take her to her crib," Carol said after a few moments – when she realized she needed to snap out of this moment, just because she needed some fresh air in her lungs.
"Yeah…" he replied, still somewhat dazed, but handing the baby over to her nevertheless and watching as Judith settled herself in her arms.
"I think I'm going to turn in as well," she told him breezily, trying to talk away the last of the tension between them.
It wasn't that late yet, but she was still catching up on the sleep she'd missed out on during the days they were at odds. Not that she's was going to tell him that.
He reached out and carefully, almost as if he was afraid he was going to break her, Daryl stroked his finger across Judith's cheek.
"Sweet dreams, littl' asskicker…"
Then he looked back up at her and for a few seconds his look was completely unguarded and very, very vulnerable.
"Sleep well, big asskicker,"
And of course, I´d love to hear what you think!