Chapter Four

William rested his chin on his wife's shoulder and sighed as she sipped her morning coffee. It wasn't even light outside yet, and she was standing in the doorway to Carol's bedroom, her eyes focused on the children. "You know, Fran, it's really creepy when you stand there and stare at them like that," he teased her.

She passed him her cup and let her fingers tangle in his tie, quickly tying it before patting his chest affectionately. "No, it isn't. There's nothing wrong with a mother looking in on her children." She took the cup back from him and once again peered at the sleeping pair. "I'd be willing to bet the only time our boy gets a decent night's rest is when he's here with us."

The doctor nodded, leaning against the doorjamb. "Carol soothes him."

"She does," Francine agreed. "They're going to make the most beautiful babies one day."

William spluttered, and his wife turned hurriedly to clap a hand over his mouth before he woke them. He pulled it away with a glare. "I assure you, I am too young to be a grandfather," he hissed.

Francine snorted. "I didn't mean today, William. But haven't you noticed how much in love they are? They try to pretend, but I can see. A mother always knows. I just wish they weren't so stubborn and would just admit it to one another."

Carol snuffled in her sleep and rolled over, her cheek pressing into the space over Daryl's heart as her arm banded about his waist, seeking him out in the pre-dawn darkness. Francine nudged her husband with an elbow. "See what I mean?"

"Don't push, Fran," he warned in a husky whisper as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and led her towards the stairs. "They'll find the courage to tell each other eventually."

*.*.*

He pushed through the foliage, bypassing a bracket of thorns, the sun beating down on his sunburned skin. He winced with every step he took, his feet torn and bloody from running through the woods without his boots. How long had he been lost? Surely, more than a week. Daryl still didn't understand how he'd gotten so turned around he couldn't find his way home. The forest was his solace, his home. Had his mind been so addled by the beating he'd taken, he couldn't find his way? His fingertips brushed along the green and yellow fading bruise around his left eye before his hand fell to his side and clenched into a tight fist.

Merle had been carted off to juvie for breaking into a house with some older boys. He hadn't been there to stop Jackson from beating him bloody. But he'd shown him, hadn't he? He was fast when he needed to be, hightailing it into the woods without a backwards glance, without a care that he was only wearing a pair of tattered jeans and his buck knife, his boots and shirt still in his room from where he'd been dragged.

The old bastard was probably happy he was gone. God knew he wouldn't have searched for his youngest son. Daryl was on his own. But even at the young age of nine, he was still smarter than his old man. He breathed a sigh of relief as familiar landmarks led him home through the trees. One of Merle's arrows lodged in the big oak, a pit he and his brother had dug, thinking they'd be able to trap a chupacabra, the Tonka truck Carol had given him for his birthday, the bed filled with dirt. Carol …

She was the reason he had fought so hard to make it back. He knew if anyone worried over him, it was his dearest friend. The thought of her frantic and upset, his absence from school, a missed playdate at the park … it had spurred him back in the direction of his own personal hell. He couldn't allow her to wait and wonder over what had happened to him another moment. She deserved better than that. And boy, was she going to be furious. Just the thought had his lips quirking up into the first smile he'd had in days. He was actually looking forward to the way her eyes flashed with fire, and the color which would flood her cheeks. She was the prettiest little thing and he knew he'd never tire of looking at her.

When he limped through the trees at the edge of the property his daddy owned, however, he wasn't expecting to see her sitting on the hood of her father's car, her knees drawn up to her chest and tears trekking over her face while Francine did her best to soothe her. He moved closer, needing to comfort her, and her eyes fell upon him. Her face lit up brighter than the sun, and he was so stunned, he couldn't move, completely enraptured by the joy shining in her eyes.

She leapt from the hood of the car and ran to him, her slender little arms wrapping tightly around his neck. Nothing in the wide world could have kept him from hugging her back. "Daryl!" she cried, her tears heating his bare skin. She pulled back, taking him in, a sound of distress issuing from her throat when she saw the sorry shape he was in.

Daryl hung his head, averting his eyes to his bare feet, unable to look into her eyes and see the heartfelt emotion wringing from her. It was his fault she was so upset. He'd caused this. Jackson was right. He was good for nothing but causing trouble. He could hear Francine on the phone, calling William to come back to the car, telling him to call off the search because Daryl had finally come home.

Francine knelt before him, uncaring if her nice pants were dirtied on the muddy ground. She tugged him into her arms, her own eyes swimming with tears. "Oh, baby, I'm so glad you're alright. We were all so worried."

He blushed to the roots of his dark blonde hair. She was still fawning over him when William strode through the trees. He shrank into himself, seeing the weariness etched in the doctor's features, cringing away from him when William knelt at his side and roughly yanked him into his arms. "Daryl … son, you can't just run off like that. I don't think I've ever been so scared in my life," he said, holding him tightly and rubbing soothing circles over his back. "Please, promise me you won't run again. If anything ever happened to you …"

Daryl couldn't stop the tears. He wrapped his arms around William's neck and wept. He'd never had anyone but his mama make him feel as if he were worth anything, much less important. This was how a father should be, he realized, not how Jackson was. "I promise," he whispered brokenly, hoping he'd be able to hold true to his word.

Francine fetched a blanket from the trunk of the car and William wrapped it around Daryl before scooping him up in his arms and bundling him into the car. He wasn't about to leave him there when the boy was in desperate need of some TLC, which his family was more than capable of providing.

Carol was silent during the short car ride back home, simply sitting next to him, her hand like a steel vice around his fingers. Daryl wondered if she'd ever let go. He couldn't have cared less. He was happiest when she held his hand, if he were honest with himself. She was his safe haven, had been for years, and he didn't see that changing any time soon.

Daryl blushed a deep fiery red, and could feel his ears burning as Francine marched him to the bathroom the second they got home, running a bath and ordering him to scrub himself. He knew if he didn't, she'd barge back in and do it herself. She'd warned him on more than one occasion when he and Carol had gotten particularly dirty. His sunburn hurt like the devil in the warm water, but he scrubbed every inch of himself until he felt brand new.

Both Carol and her mother were hovering outside the bathroom door when he emerged. Francine ushered him into Carol's room where William was waiting for him, wanting to assess him. He was covered in poison oak rashes, and his feet were a mess, but thankfully the bruising around his eye was fading. Dr. Mason bandaged his feet after slathering a healthy amount of antibiotic ointment over the cuts and left him to the women's tender mercies.

Francine fussed over him, laying out a pair of cotton sleeping pants and a t-shirt she kept there at the house for him before hurrying off to fix him something to eat. His stomach growled, imagining the delights which would come from her warm kitchen. No one cooked like Carol's mother.

It was then, when he was finally starting to relax, that he noticed the heat emanating from Carol's big blue eyes. Uh-oh! He didn't hesitate to lay face down on her bed when she pointed her finger, not expecting him to disobey her. She could be so bossy sometimes, but he didn't mind. She'd never do anything to hurt him. He flinched when she began to smear calamine lotion over the rashes littering his back, but eventually settled.

"I cannot believe you ran away, Daryl," she hissed quietly, her sweet voice anxious and more than a little peeved. "What were you thinking?!"

He folded his arms and rested his head on them, closing his eyes as her gentle hands soothed him. "I was thinkin' of gettin' away from my daddy, Carol. What else was I s'posed t' do? Stand there an' let him kill me?"

"No," she huffed, unaware of the smile curling his lips as he practically melted against her soft duvet. "You weren't at school, and I thought you were sick. Daddy brought me to your house to check on you, but you weren't home."

Daryl glanced sharply at her over his shoulder. "Don't ever go back there, Carol. I mean it! What if Jackson would've been there?!"

"I doubt he's stupid enough to try something with my daddy."

"Yeah, but if y' come sniffin' around, who y' think he's gonna take it out on?" he murmured lowly.

Carol gasped. "Crud! I didn't even think of that. I was just so worried about you." She paid particular attention to spreading lotion over a dark red rash on his lower back, lowering her head dolefully. "I thought he might've killed you."

Again, he looked over his shoulder at her, his eyes soft. "I'm ok, Carol."

And with that he saw the return of her temper. "Don't give me that crap, Daryl Dixon! You were gone for eight days. Eight! We searched for you in those woods every day. And when you do show up, you're sunburned, half naked, feet all bloody, starving … and don't deny it! I can hear your stomach rumbling from here. Mama's gonna be shoving food at you left and right." She paused, not noticing the contented smile gracing his mouth. She put the cap back on the lotion and set it aside, flopping down next to him on the bed. When she clasped his hand, he dragged it over to rest beneath his cheek. "Don't ever do this again, Daryl. You can't run off like that. If … If you need to run, to hide from Jackson … run to me."

His head lifted, his brow furrowing. "You'd want me t' come here?"

"Daryl," she sighed, brushing the hair away from his eyes with her free hand. "You're my best friend. Why wouldn't I want you to come here and be with me? I'd have you live with us if you'd allow it. It's not that far … what? … two miles at most between our houses? You hike that distance all the time. Or if you're hurt and can't come by foot, call me and I'll send Mom or Dad to pick you up. I just can't stand the thought of you lost and alone again."

"If I agree, will y' stop yellin' at me?" he asked, his smirk accompanied by the arching of his brow.

"Maybe," she countered, not making any promises.

"A'right. Next time, I'll come here. Long as it's ok with y' parents."

"They love you, Daryl. They would never turn you away."

For the first time in over a week, he felt the tension bleed from his body. He closed his eyes and let the softness of her bed and the warmth of her hand soothe him. He was home. Home with his Carol, his best friend, his savior in so many ways. He'd do anything for her.

Carol …

*.*.*

Carol's eyes cracked open at the sound of her name so close to her ear. Her breath hitched as Daryl's arm tightened around her waist, dragging her back against his chest, his morning whiskers scratchy against her neck. His other arm was stretched out beneath her head, and her hand was engulfed in his. It wasn't the first time she'd used his arm as a pillow. She remained still, listening to his breathing, and feeling the tension in his body. She knew he was dreaming, and she could only pray it wasn't a nightmare.

Her face flooded with heat as his hips pressed against her, his morning wood hard and heavy against the crack of her ass. She bit her lip, thinking of what it would be like to be able to touch him, to show him with her tentative touch just how much she loved him, how much she wanted to be with him in every way. She tried to scoot away, to put a little distance between her and his erection, but he held her fast, his arm a band of steel around her, holding her in place. He was going to be so embarrassed if he woke to find them in such a compromising position.

Daryl hummed against her throat, burrowing further into the crook of her neck, and the vibration sent a wave of molten fire barreling through her body. Her heart thundered against her ribs, threatening to bruise her with its force. She would have given anything to know what haunted his dreams. Fighting against his hold, she turned over in his embrace and laid her hand against his cheek. "Daryl … Daryl, wake up," she whispered, selfishly allowing him to grind against her again.

His eyes flew open, gazing down at her in confusion before they widened in horror and he catapulted himself from the bed. "Carol!" he gasped, snatching up a pillow and holding it over his groin.

She giggled, dispelling the awkwardness. "You can have the shower first if you want."

Daryl peeked at her through his fringe of bangs. "Seriously? That's all y' got t' say? I was gropin' y' in my sleep, woman!"

Carol smirked, waggling her brows at him. "Naughty dream, Dixon? Wouldn't be the first time I woke to find you pressed to me like a second skin."

He gaped at her, horrified at his own actions. The last thing he wanted was to be banished from her bed.

"Daryl, c'mon. You're a teenager. It's not unusual to have naughty dreams or wake up with a stiffie." She giggled again and he threw the pillow at her, shaking his head as he stormed off towards the bathroom to shower and shave.

The moment the door closed behind him, she groaned and flopped back onto the bed. God, he was going to be the death of her yet, she thought. A wicked smile formed on her lips as she raised up on her elbows. It had been her name he'd been moaning in his sleep. Perhaps he did have feelings for her after all. She wondered how far she could push the boundaries with him. It was food for thought as she rose and laid out their clothes for the day. A clean pair of jeans, black t-shirt and navy button up for him, and a pencil skirt and lightweight navy sweater for her. It was Friday, one of the days he had to work at the garage. She could wear a skirt since she'd have to take her own car and wouldn't be riding with him on the bike.

Her laptop dinged the moment she heard the shower cut off, and she couldn't help but wonder who would be skyping her at such an early hour. She went to her desk, lifting the screen and tapping the connect icon to see Merle's familiar grin smiling back at her.

"Hey there, lil sister! Didn't wake y', did I?"

Carol shot him a warm smile. "No, I was up." She looked at the unfamiliar surroundings behind him. "Where are you? That doesn't look like the communications tent."

Daryl emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a flannel robe, and peered over her shoulder. "Merle? What th' hell, brother?"

The elder Dixon snorted. "Why am I not surprised t' see y' there with yer girl?" His gaze returned to Carol. "He fall asleep on y' again studyin'?"

She smirked. "Something like that."

Daryl pulled her spare desk chair close to hers and sat down. "Did y' find out when y' gonna be home?"

"That's why I'm callin'. Got a transport out of Bagram, an' now we're at Ramstein Air Force Base in Germany. Gonna be coolin' our heels over th' weekend. Should be back in th' states Wednesday," Merle grumbled. He'd have much rathered fly home commercially, but his CO had arranged military transport.

Daryl brightened. "So, you'll be home for my birthday?"

"'Fraid not, baby brother. Once we get in, we have to be processed out. Then we'll catch a bus from DC an' be back in Senoia Friday evening."

Carol could feel Daryl's disappointment as if it were her own, but she kept her smile in place. "But once you're back, you'll be here to stay. It'll be worth the aggravation."

"Yeah, y' right. Gonna call Jim in a bit, see if he's had time t' consider my offer for th' garage." His eyes were intense as he stared at his brother. "We're gonna get through this, Daryl. We're gonna make th' name Dixon stand for somethin'. Jus' keep doin' what yer doin'." He shot a look at Carol as Daryl nodded. "Carol, keep him on th' right track. He listens t' y' at least."

"You know I will, Merle."

"A'right, you two, my time's up for chit chat."

Carol smiled warmly. "You be safe, Merle. We can't wait to see you!"

"Take care, darlin'! Daryl …"

"I know. Me too."

The screen went back to the home page and Carol reached over to rub at his nape, soothing away some of the tension he carried with him. "One more week, Daryl. Then he'll be home with you, a fresh start."

He pulled her closer, burying his face against her shoulder. "I can do this," he whispered, and she wondered if he were trying to convince her … or himself. She had every faith in him that he could do anything he set his mind to. He was the strongest man she knew aside from her own father, and she was so proud of him for what he'd endured, to come out on the other side, stronger and more resilient without losing the love and compassion his mother had instilled in his heart.

"Kids! Breakfast is almost ready. Get a move on or you're going to be late," Francine called up the stairs.

Daryl let her go and moved to the bed. "Carol, these ain't my clothes," he said, running a hand over the name brand jeans with the tags still on them.

Carol gathered up her own clothes to carry into the bathroom with her, but she paused to glance down at the tags. "They were in your duffel, Daryl, and they're your size."

"Your mama's been shoppin' for me again," he groaned. "Told her t' stop doin' that shit!"

She tossed her long auburn mane over her shoulder as she flounced off towards the shower. "You know mama … there's no stopping her when she gets it into her head to spoil us. Just get dressed and smile. Don't let her know you're upset about it."

Daryl shook his head and discarded his robe, reveling in the feel of new clothes against his skin. But Carol was right. Though he didn't like the idea of the Masons spending money on him, he'd never hurt Francine's feelings by rejecting her gift. He loved her too much. He headed down the stairs, knowing Carol would scold him if he waited for her, the smell of freshly baked cinnamon rolls making his mouth water.

*.*.*

Daryl shoveled another bite of leftover chicken into his mouth as he scribbled furiously at the paper before him. He'd nearly snatched the job application from Maggie's hands when she'd handed it over at lunch, but damn if he could concentrate with the traffic moving back and forth around their table. He snarled at a cluster of girls headed his way and groaned, scooting his chair closer to Carol's. Rick sat on the other side of her, his Trigonometry book open before him.

Before the girl could open her mouth, he barked out a firm "NO!" if the scowl on his face wasn't enough to deter her. It had been like that all morning, girls seemingly appearing out of thin air, cornering him at the water fountain, at his locker, in between classes … all to ask him to that stupid dance. Apparently, they hadn't gotten the message that he'd be going with Carol.

Maggie giggled as the girl and her friends hurried off. "What's wrong, Dixon? Don't like the attention?"

Daryl finished up the application and tucked it away in his backpack. "Y' ever know me t' date, Mags? This is th' stupidest dance ever held in this school. Jus' a way for girls t' get th' go ahead t' nag boys they been crushin' on or ruin relationships they already have because they want a bigger better deal. Don't know why they'd even want t' bother with me."

"You'll just never accept it that you're a fine lookin' man and girls swoon every time you walk past them. And being unattached is not helping matters none," she said, sharing her words of wisdom.

"All I wanna do is get through this year, Maggie. I want t' be done with it all," he lamented, finishing up his meal so he could get to the dessert Francine had packed for them.

Maggie grinned at Lori as she rose from the table and smoothed a hand over the skirt of her cheerleading uniform. Glenn groaned, seeing the look in his girlfriend's eyes. "Maggie … please don't do something you'll regret five minutes from now," he pleaded with her.

"Pfft," she scoffed. "I am not one for regrets and you know it."

Carol leaned into Daryl's side and dug her fork into the rich chocolate cake they were sharing. "This doesn't bode well."

Rick dropped a glob of jello on his Trig book as he watched Maggie climb up to stand in the center of their table. "Th' hell?"

The oldest Greene girl cupped her hands around her mouth for maximum volume. "Attention, please!" The cafeteria fell into dead silence, the students all gaping at her. "Or rather … attention all dateless females," she smirked. "Daryl Dixon is going to the Sadie Hawkins dance with Carol Mason. Rick Grimes is going with Lori Phillips, and Glenn Rhee is going with … me! So back the hell off! The next girl who even thinks of coming over here … well, I'm not going to be responsible for the tapioca pudding dumped in your bra. That is all!" She waved her hands for them to resume their lunch and hopped down.

"Oh, my gawd," Daryl groaned, banging his head on the table. "I swear, Glenn, your girlfriend needs a fuckin' muzzle," he said over the roar of laughter from the boys in the room and the quiet hisses from the girls.

Carol continued to eat her cake, smiling mischievously at him. "Well, at least now you won't have to worry about them pulling a sneak attack on you in the halls anymore."

Daryl sighed.

A/n: That flashback was almost the death of me. Arrow straight to the feels. I really hope y'all liked this one. Please review!