Daryl tries to get back in Carol's good graces while bonding with his daughter and finding his place in the new community. The arrival of an old friend also prompts a flashback to the day Daryl learned of Carol's banishment and will complicate all of their lives.
This is a long one, folks! It needed to accomplish a lot. Thanks for reading, following, favoriting and of course reviewing.
Paterfamilias and Consilium
"Papa?"
"Yeah lil'bit?"
"Izzat boy still dere?"
"That's what we're gonna go check, punkin."
"Papa! My name Wose Disson, not punkin!" the little girl put her hands over her father's eyes to make him stop walking, imperious on her high perch riding his shoulders.
"Yes, m'am, pardon me." Daryl said solemnly.
"No 'm'am,' Wose!" the little girl said crossly.
"Rosie Posie?" Daryl asked.
"O-tay—Wosie Posie." she agreed and pulled her hands away from his eyes and instead petted the whiskers on his jaws. "Papa?" she asked.
"What honey—I mean Rosie Posie?" Daryl said as he resumed his stride, heading for the front gates of the fort.
"Why you face so skwatchy?"
"Thas just my scraggly old beard. You don' like it?"
"Ouchy on Wose face...on mama face."
"Think so?" Daryl mused. He hadn't had any complaints from the woman in question and she was as up front as her daughter when it came to speaking her mind. In the last year and a half he'd had his work cut out for him just to hold his own with the two of them.
After his sudden arrival Carol had been wary of just automatically accepting the idea that he was here to stay. He knew he had hurt her deeply after he'd abruptly cut off what they had begun in the warden's office that day, telling himself that he was protecting her. The truth was he had been protecting himself.
When Rick had told him that she was gone Daryl had felt curiously numb, empty. He wasn't sure where to go or what to do, torn between his duty to Rick and the rest of the make-shift family they'd come to be and the woman who had been the first to make him feel a connection to anyone other than his brother.
It had been Hershel who had found him, in Carol's cell, sitting on the floor, his head in his hands, all of her things pulled out of the drawers and off the shelves, scattered all around him as if they might give him some clue as to where she would go.
"Son?" Hershel said from the doorway.
"Ain't yer son." Daryl growled bitterly.
"I'd be proud if you were." Hershel said sincerely.
"Yeah, well, I just meant yer a better man than my bastard of a father ever thought a bein'..." Daryl said in apology.
"I'll tell you about my daddy sometime if we're tradin' American horror stories." Hershel snorted and Daryl's head came up. "Let's just say I understand you ...you and Carol better than you know."
Daryl's mouth thinned into a horizontal slash with down turned corners and then he nodded in understanding.
"You thinkin' a leavin' us?" Hershel ventured.
Daryl ran his hands through his long hair, pushing it back off of his forehead.
"He left her out there, alone."
"She killed two people." Hershel said.
"After what you went through last night you seriously think they had any sorta chance?" Daryl asked, "They were the first to show symptoms—has anyone who got sick that fast made it?"
Hershel looked uncomfortable. It had been a long night and day. He'd just come in from helping Michonne burn bodies and Rick had asked him to look in on Daryl after he checked in with Bob and Maggie. When he hadn't found the tracker in his cell he'd figured this was where he'd be.
"We need you here, Daryl." Hershel said, sidestepping Daryl's question. He wished with all his heart that Carol had taken the time to either talk to him or Dr. S or the Council before she'd acted, but it was all water under the bridge now.
"We need her here." Daryl whispered, as if saying it out loud was too painful.
"Rick won't allow that." Hershel said sadly. Daryl's face darkened.
"He back to being in charge? I don't remember voting to disband the council." Rick's highhandedness in abandoning Carol was testing every bond of loyalty the two men had built up since Atlanta. When he'd finally found Rick this morning to ask where Carol was, at first he couldn't believe what he was hearing—not only had Carol admitted to the deaths, but Rick had taken her on a run and left her there... Then Rick had asked for Daryl's back up when he told Tyreese; wanted Daryl to publically agree with the decision and tell the big man that he had the rest of the council's support so Ty wouldn't go after her. "I need you on this." Rick had pleaded. "It's how we protect her from him."
Daryl felt that Rick was playing so many head games right now he couldn't see straight.
"What council? You 'n me—we're the council now.' Hershel reminded his younger friend.
"Sasha and Glenn are gonna be fine." Daryl said stubbornly.
"They're still both very sick. And some of the rest of us may still become symptomatic before this thing burns itself out. We need every able bodied person we have to care for the sick and keep this place running." Hershel reasoned.
"So kickin' out the woman who ran this place like a well oiled machine and had medical know how to boot made a whole shitload a sense, now, did it?" Daryl said in a voice dripping with sarcasm.
"You know Rick has always worked from his gut—he did what he thought he had to protect this place—to protect his children." Hershel said reasonably.
"Carol loves those kids like they were her own!" Daryl protested. If there was one thing he never doubted about Carol was her fierce need to protect all of the children...it was reason she had done what she had done.
"Like I said—his gut overrules his head sometimes and being a good father is what he's been concentrating on for a while now—all he saw was that she ended two of our own and he couldn't trust that she wouldn't do it again. Most times he gave someone a second chance it came back and bit him on the ass." Hershel reminded him with an emphatic nod of his grey head.
"Shane killed Otis."
"And then Randall, and then he tried to kill Rick. And that was a man he'd counted as a brother."
"Carol ain't like Shane was—he wanted Rick outa the way so he could have Lori n' Carl n' lil'ass kicker." Daryl had actually been one of the first to figure out the truth about Otis' death and Shane's real motivations.
"And control of the group..." Hershel mused and then waited. He watched Daryl's nimble mind come to the same conclusion he had.
"You think Rick was threatened by Carol?"
"Maybe not consciously—but she'd stepped up, just like you—running the show, on the council, organizing the food, the work, while he stepped back. What she did with Karen and David? That kind of hard decision? That was something a leader would do..." Hershel let his statement linger in the air.
Daryl picked up Carol's schedule folder, the neat grids listing everyone's duties by day and time, remembering how she'd scheduled everything, including time alone with him...and how he'd so spectacularly fucked it all up afterwards by not just pushing but shoving her away from him.
She'd gotten too close, under his skin to the point where he couldn't imagine his life without her and so to prove to himself that he could, he'd thrown away what they had started that day, with both hands.
With her usual stoic calm Carol had never mentioned that day again. If there was an icy core to her dealings with him no one but he would've noticed it. She'd accepted it when he distanced himself physically by leaving the next day on a three day hunt and emotionally by never being alone with her again.
In front of others she was friendly and showed concern for his well being, but the banter, the light teasing they had shared vanished for a time. At odd moments he'd flash on her hands pulling his hair, her taste on his tongue, his name on her lips in that ragged breathless voice as he made her come, over and over, and he'd find himself staring at her intently from across the room, wondering if she ever thought of that day, relived it until she was aching...or if it was just him who enjoyed the masochistic torment of it.
And then the fences had almost gone down. It was the day he'd gotten back from a hunt, arriving at the gate with a string of wild geese fastened to the saddlebags. There was a huge build up around the new protected entrance. Carol had been manning the pulley, waiting for him he thought, and he had barely gotten inside, inadvertently bringing three geeks along. He'd had to ditch the bike when the biggest one, its skeletonized face snapping at the birds, had latched itself onto the rear tire. The other two double teamed him, pulling him off of the Triumph while he tried to reach his buck knife.
Two shots rang out in quick succession and their skulls splattered pink and black all over him. When he looked up he saw a steely eyed Carol, rifle in her hands, looking like Mother Courage out to save her man. She took aim and another shot went into the head of the third walker and it dropped as well, draped over the back of the bike.
"You okl?" she yelled, sounding angry.
"Thanks." he yelled back above the moaning groaning din of the multitude of the dead all around them.
"Then get your ass in here—we're about to lose the fence by Tower 3!" she yelled impatiently, shouldering the gun and pulling out the keys to unlock the inner gate. He pushed the headless corpses off of him and started to rise, and then there was her hand, held out to help pull him up. It was the first time they'd touched since that afternoon and evening in the warden's office. He accepted the outstretched hand, glad of its small strong warmth, and had held on, remembering her making the same gesture after Merle's death; what a lifetime ago that seemed.
As Daryl stood he looked into her eyes, worried he'd see the same anger that he'd heard in her voice, but instead there was relief and tears and without thinking, he pulled her into a brief hug, reassuring them both that he was back, that he was ok.
"Tower 3?" he said gruffly as he released her and Carol nodded and turned, giving his hand a slight squeeze as she let it go. Daryl swung his crossbow around to the front and followed her through the gate, doing what they needed to do to keep their home safe.
After that things were better between them, more like they had been when they first arrived at the prison. They were friends who cared deeply about one another, and if sometimes she edged closer to something else, teasing him or flirting with silly pet names, he'd give his usual response, a plea for her to desist, Stop, drawn out to a put upon "Staahp."
It was obvious to everyone around them that he cared for her, looked to her for everything from clues in dealing with the newcomers to her take on Council business, and they wondered what kept them from becoming something more. Maybe someday, he'd thought, if they both lived long enough, they could be. Maybe if he had enough time to deal with his damaged soul and fear of abandonment, time to silence the demons that told him he was and always would be his daddy's son...but that was the hell of it. There was never enough time.
And now she was gone.
Daryl angrily threw the folder against the wall, scattering the papers within around them like the terrible white rain from offices in the towers on 9/11, useless now that the person who had worked so hard to create them was gone. Hershel waited until all of them had fallen and then he came into the cell, sat behind Daryl on Carol's bunk and put his hand on the tracker's shoulder. It spoke to his need for comfort that Daryl didn't just shrug it off.
"We're weaker with her gone." Daryl said, unknowingly echoing Beth's words to Carol about him when he'd left with his brother after Woodbury.
"I know Daryl; I'm sorry she's gone," Hershel said earnestly, "And I know your first instinct is to go after her, but right now we can't survive without you. If anyone else gets sick, or if God forbid the Governor comes back, we need you here."
"Rick send you in here to say that?" Daryl said cynically. He knew how effectively the former sheriff could delegate to get everyone on board with his plans.
"He asked me to check on you." Hershel said evenly.
"He needs to keep outa my way." Daryl said in a cold voice. Rick had burned a lot of bridges with him today. "You tell him that."
"That mean you're staying?" Hershel asked, trying to keep the hopefulness out of his voice.
"Just til things settle down—Glenn and Sasha get back on their feet I'm gone."
"She's strong Daryl. She doesn't need you to ride to her rescue anymore. Carol can take care of herself." Hershel assured him, giving his shoulder a squeeze. This time Daryl reacted more violently, jerking away from the older man's grip, standing and then in one smooth lethal motion, turning to him and leaning over, getting in his face.
"No one can do it alone..." Daryl growled. "Never could." He stabbed his finger into Hershel's chest, "Now put that bible a yours to good use and pray I find her alive." Daryl stalked out of the cell.
It had been a long four months after that until he'd been able to leave, and he had spent another nine searching until he found her here north of Atlanta. In that time she'd proved the axiom he'd told Hershel. She hadn't done it alone. She'd found others, built this community from scratch, had his child, and believed she'd never see him again.
When he'd shown up here at Fort Dixon, Daryl had to earn his place, the same as any other newcomer. He'd bunked with the first man he'd met, the gatekeeper, Abraham, a gruff amiable man with a quick sense of humor and an admitted hankering for the woman he knew as Lori Dixon. When she had basically announced to the camp at large that Daryl was Rose's father and Sam had added that they shared the same last name, everyone assumed Lori's long lost husband had arrived. With that little bit of information people spun some dramatic romantic tale of separation and loss, an epic love story of his search for her and his unborn child in the walker apocalypse. Everyone was a bit confused when she didn't welcome him into her home with open arms.
Sara knew better. Lori had confided to Sara that the father was someone she'd loved but was unable to be with. She knew that the handsome biker had no knowledge of the child until Lori had asked her to hand Rose to him that first day. She also knew that although her friend was obviously in love with him, Lori didn't trust that Daryl would stay.
Sara watched as he worked to prove to the Doc that he deserved a second chance. He was truly wonderful with Rose. Sara had been a nurse midwife in training before the Turn. She had spent every waking hour with mothers, fathers and infants and she had never seen a man so besotted with a child. He spent as much time as possible with her, taking her in the afternoons so her momma could nap, going on runs to ransack every pediatric ward he could find to look for the usual infant vaccines so she would be protected, whittled her an entire Noah's ark of animal pairs to play with, all on top of his assigned duties for the community.
After he had been there a month, he went before the council to find out if his petition for citizenship had been approved. When he first arrived, he'd been asked what he could do for them that would warrant approval of his citizenship petition. Daryl had given a crossbow demonstration that would've done Katniss, Robin Hood, Legolas and Hawkeye proud, followed by knife throwing, hand to hand combat, and then breaking down and rebuilding of every pistol, rifle and shotgun they put in front of him before he precision fired them. As a further demonstration, the day of his petition approval hearing with the council, he'd left in the morning and came back in the afternoon carrying a field dressed doe over his shoulders.
Carol had been standing on the ramparts, watching the forest for him when he'd come jogging out of the trees with the deer, a couple of walkers trailing behind him. Taking careful aim with her rifle, Carol dropped them both before they got within ten feet of Daryl, who looked up to see where the shots had originated.
"Thanks sweetheart!" he grinned, squinting up at her behind his fringe of dark bangs as he passed over the drawbridge below her.
"No problem, Pookie." Carol called down nonchalantly, giving him a cocky salute, and he knew he was back in her good graces, at least a little.
After the feast two nights later celebrating the approval of his citizenship, she let him walk her home. They stood on the front porch of her cabin, Daryl carrying Rose, who had fallen asleep at the party. Carol looked down at the baby, covered by her yellow blanket, so peaceful.
"She looks so much like Sophia at that age." Carol said, wishing she still had a photo of her first child that she could someday show to her sister.
"Yeah?" Daryl asked. Carol so seldom said her dead child's name he wondered at her mood tonight. Carol nodded yes.
"Same coloring, pale and pink cheeked, red blonde hair...she has your eyes though." Not Sophia's green or her own lighter blue, but the darker sky blue of Daryl's.
"You named her...after the flower?" Daryl asked, unsure of what exactly he was asking. In answer Carol lifted the handmade baby blanket off of the baby and turned it over.
"Sara made this for her—she used to do it for all the babies she delivered." Carol told him. There, carefully stitched into the quilted yellow fleece in a pretty script was the name "Cherokee Rose Dixon."
Daryl looked at her questioningly.
"I think that was the day I started to fall in love with you." she said simply. The day he'd so surprised her by bringing her a flower and telling her a sad but hopeful story.
Daryl sighed and his mouth turned up on one side and then he tilted his head and leaned forward, over the baby he held so carefully, towards Carol, tentatively, still even after four weeks a bit unsure of his welcome. Carol slowly leaned forward as well, rising up on her toes to match his height better, putting her hands on his forearms to brace her. Just as their lips touched, little Miss Cherokee Rose awoke and let out a loud unhappy hungry wail.
They pulled apart, Carol laughing ruefully.
"Thought you liked your papa better than this, lil' bit." Daryl admonished his daughter, bouncing her a little to try to quell her cries. At the sound of his voice the baby's head turned and she seemed to focus on him, and she hiccuped, her cries slowing.
"She's just hungry, Daryl. I need to feed her." Carol held out her hands to take the child from him, but he didn't immediately hand her over.
"Can I...can I watch?" he asked haltingly, sounding shy. From the first time it had happened, he found he craved the intimacy of watching her nurse their daughter. He wasn't sure if he was developing a weird fetish, but he thought it was one of the sexiest things he'd ever seen. Carol had no inhibitions about it and a few times when he'd stopped by in the early afternoon to pick up Rose she'd been sitting on the porch swing in front of the cabin finishing up the baby's lunch and he'd waited quietly, watching.
"Are you asking to come inside?" she asked quietly and Daryl nodded yes. Carol frowned at him and huffed out a little sigh. She didn't know if she was ready for anything more than the gentle kisses goodnight they had shared over the last month, each evening when he was in camp, when he would walk her home from dinner or sometimes even when he brought Rose home in the late afternoon. Then he always went back to his room at Abe's and she and Rose went into their cozy cottage. She was used to her privacy, her independence now. He was overwhelming, the way she felt about him could drown out everything else in her carefully ordered existence if she let it.
Daryl held his breath waiting for her to make up her mind. Over the last month he'd come to realize that despite his protest to Sam, from the moment he'd left the prison to look for her he had already decided. His parting words to Rick had said it all. She was his and he wasn't going to let her get away again.
Carol's eyes rose to his and the melting, pleading, totally sweet sexy look he gave her made her toes curl. Damn him.
"Just until I'm done feeding her," Carol allowed, giving in to his puppy dog eyes just a little. Daryl grinned at her, ducking his head so she wouldn't see just how pleased he really was that she'd invited him in. Carol shook her head at him and turned to unlock the door.
"Night Lori…Daryl!" someone called from behind them and Carol froze with her hand on the doorknob. She turned back around and took Rose from Daryl, looking around his big body to see who it was.
"Oh—goodnight Sara." Carol said, blushing at the knowing look her nurse flashed her and bouncing the fussy baby a bit as she watched Sara walk on by.
"You know, they all know we had sex." Daryl said dryly once the other woman had disappeared into her nearby cabin. Carol looked aghast and then glared at him.
"They all know you live at Abraham's place!" she protested.
"Well, they know we did it at least once." Daryl pointed at the evidence she held in her arms. "Should we tell them it was only three times?" he looked at her lazily from under his fringe of dark hair with a hint of a smile. "In the same night." he added softly and the smile became a smirk.
"It could've been every night if you hadn't..." Carol began hotly, but stopped, her mouth going tight in a prim line as she pierced him with her laser sharp gaze drilling down into his soul.
"Hadn't what Carol?" he asked, raising his right hand to her soft cheek and lightly caressing its curve, "Hadn't been such a complete and utter coward?"
Carol frowned at him.
"Hadn't been too afraid to tell you that I love you?" He held her chin in his hand, "That I wanna make a home with you and Rose, here, or wherever you wanna be—doesn't matter as long as we're together?" He looked into her eyes for some reaction, for some sign that she was willing to listen, to discuss what he'd just said, but that same curious frown stayed on her features, her eyes troubled.
Carol lifted her hand to his and pulled it down and away from her face. Daryl sighed, knowing he was being dismissed. But then she held Rose up for him to take. Frowning, he did so, shifting the baby to cradle her in the crook of his left arm. Carol turned away from him and opened the door to her house and pushed it open. Then she turned back to face him and held out her right hand.
"Welcome home, Daryl." she said softly, took his free hand in hers, gave him that small, resolved, sighing smile that he so loved and led him over the threshold.
That had been sixteen months ago.
Rose was now almost two years old and smart as a whip, very verbal and bossy, like her mother, Daryl thought, but never said, and had a scowl unmatched in the fort except by her father. Today they were on their way to the main gates where someone—a young man—claiming to know the Dixons had arrived this morning. Rose had heard her parents talking about it at breakfast and wanted to go see "that boy" for herself. He had been brought inside and disarmed, but refused to talk to anyone except Daryl.
As they rounded the corner Daryl could see a tall thin young man with shaggy brown hair facing away from him. As he watched, the kid turned and lifted a familiar battered cowboy hat to his head. When he came into full frontal view Daryl was shocked by the eye patch the boy wore over his right eye, and the angry red scar cutting across the cheek below it.
"Daryl? Is that really you?" The boy said happily, his voice much deeper than it had been that last time Daryl had seen him, over two years ago. He started towards him, but was restrained by Abraham and one of the younger guards, Adam.
"Papa? whozat boy?" Rose asked curiously, hanging onto Daryl's ears as they went closer.
"Hey Carl." Daryl said, grinning now too, holding out his hand for the younger Grimes to shake. "You look like shit." Daryl laughed, pulling Carl into a fierce hug, with Rose clinging to his neck.
"Papa!" Rose said insistently and Daryl released his young friend. Carl looked up at the little girl and his face was a mixture of curiosity and sadness.
Daryl wondered to himself, if Carl was here alone, where were Judith and Rick?
"This is my daughter, Cherokee Rose Dixon." Daryl said proudly, swinging Rosie off of his shoulders and into his arms. Carl looked at the miniature version of Sophia and shook his head in amazement. Rose regarded him with great interest.
"Yours and C-" Carl started to ask.
"Lori—my wife, Lori." Daryl said carefully. Carl looked confused.
"Are you a pai-woot?" Rose asked.
"A parrot?" Carl asked, looking even more confused.
"A pirate." Daryl clarified. "They learned this song in preschool, The Pirates who don't do anything," which unfortunately led to Rose belting the silly song out at the top of her lungs.
"From Veggie Tales—I remember." Carl's sad smile just about broke Daryl's heart.
"Daryl?" Abraham asked.
"I got this—he was part of our group down south. I'll vouch for him." Daryl said.
They headed for the cottage that had been Carol's first home there, now considerably larger after a two room addition had been constructed over the last six months to accommodate the growing family.
"Carol's gonna be happy to see you too." Daryl told the young man, now almost as tall as he was, though still thinner, looking only half grown and gangly.
"I hope so. I'm not exactly the bearer of glad tidings." Carl admitted, looking exhausted and so sad again that Daryl stopped him.
"What is it? I don't want her upset."
"I'd rather not have to tell it twice." Carl said curtly, ominously, as they arrived at the house. Daryl set Rose down and she scampered up the steps yelling to her mother that "the boy was here and he had a big hat and was a pirate."
Carol came to the door and flung it open, smiling broadly to see the son of her friends who she'd never expected to see again.
"Carl!" Carol said happily, holding out her arms to the young man.
Carl's mouth dropped open. He'd been surprised when he'd met Rose, but nothing had prepared him for the fact that Carol was hugely pregnant, like ten months pregnant! Carl looked over at Daryl, wide eyed.
"Twins. They run in the family." Daryl said, shrugging, looking both proud and a bit terrified.
"Way to go Papa Dixon…" Carl said out of the side of his mouth, carefully stepping into Carol's embrace.
Notes: In this reality Caryl are about 10 years younger than the actors portraying them, so Daryl is 34 & Carol is 38. Mainly because I want them to have babies LOL!
Rose calls Daryl "Papa" because Daryl didn't want to be called daddy, which is what he and Merle called their father.
Roses' silly song:
"We are the pirates, who don't do anything.
We just stay home and lie around;
and if you ask us to do anything
we'll just tell you: we don't do anything."
Fatherhood (and parenthood in general) is an interesting subject on TWD. It shapes many of the character's choices and actions. As child abuse survivors, Daryl and Hershel have seen how badly a father can treat a child and had each in their own way made decisions to overcome or avoid the same. Hershel became the best father he could, the love Maggie and Beth have for him show that, as well as his fatherly relationships with Glenn, Rick, Lori and Daryl. Daryl had decided to completely avoid the issue by never becoming a parent, afraid he would be unable to break the pattern of abuse. Protecting T-Dog on the highway, looking for Sophia the way that he did, protecting and saving Carol and caring for Judith and Carl showed that Daryl was capable of stepping out of his father's shadow to become a nurturing paternal (in the good sense) figure. I like the idea that he would embrace actual parenthood because he has been gaining confidence through each of those interactions since Atlanta. Papa Daryl & Rose are fun to write.
The "Paterfamilias," was the name for the ancient Roman head of the family (literally 'family father') who takes a fatherly responsibility for the group as a whole and for each individual. He literally decides who lives & dies, where they live, who they marry and befriend etc. However his decisions should be obtained through counsel, consultation and consent within the familia—these were decisions by committee (consilium). These family consilia probably involved the most senior members of his own household—especially his wife—and if necessary his peers and seniors within his extended clan. (This is ideally how the group should work, but we see it break down in the Rictatorship.)
Rick steps away from his role as Paterfamilias when the Woodbury residents arrive, choosing instead to focus on his own two children more exclusively, (and both Judith & Carl DO seem to be thriving at the start of S4) until another crisis makes it necessary for Rick to step back in. However the first major decision he makes is rather more paternalistic, done without consultation with the consilium, to exile Carol, taking on authority he has not been officially granted. Unfortunately we have seen that none of the core group he told thus far has had much of a problem with it & Daryl has been clamoring for Rick to jump back in, go on runs etc., which may mean he will welcome it as well. Which will make me officially sad.