Chapter 7: Escape
A/N: Sorry for the (SOOO) long update time! Midterms are here, I got a new job, and I'm a sickly person, so I'm busy busy busy! But I've been writing up a storm because of all your lovely (seriously, amazing and incredible and I love you ALLLLL) reviews, so updates should be quick once more :) Review!
Carol was simultaneously annoyed and frightened, and Daryl knew it. They were on the main floor of the stables once more, hearts pounding. Daryl had his crossbow out, and Carol was carrying the cans of food, trailing behind him. The stable walls creaked around them, making them jumpy. Still, walkers weren't after them yet, and the moans from outside seemed less frenzied. Perhaps some were heading off, finally.
"Do you really think this is a good idea?" Carol practically breathed the words, so close to his side Daryl was getting flustered.
He shrugged, "Don't got much choice."
She was silent for a long minute, fear playing in her eyes. "I don't want to get bitten."
Daryl turned, watching her for a second, seeing how hard she was trying to be brave. "I ain't lettin' you get bit. Ain't I s'posed to protect you now?"
She almost smiled, as if his words took away the fear and threat that was looming over them. "I think you were supposed to be protecting me before too, you know."
He shrugged, "C'mon, nothin is gonna get ya." His crossbow was loaded and ready, and Daryl had his knife at his belt just in case. Carol was eyeing him dubiously, and Daryl was torn between being annoyed at her doubt, and being proud that she trusted him enough to even follow him.
They reached the door, peeking through the slats, watching as Hungry milled around the farm. It was awful, horrible, to see them trampling through the place they had used as a safe haven -as a home!- for so long. It reinforced the fact that nowhere was safe anymore. Reinforced the fact that they had to go, they had to move!
"We're not staying here anymore, are we? I mean, we need to leave as soon as we can." Carol's voice was nearly silent, heard by Daryl only because of her proximity.
Daryl nodded, still scoping the best way to get back to the farm house. There weren't too many walkers around anymore, but there was definitely enough to be a hazard. The bonus was that they didn't move very quickly; as long as they could run faster than the herd they could get to the house.
The problem came when Daryl realized he needed to notify the others that they would be coming. What if they didn't open the goddamn door, and left Carol and himself on the porch to become a meal?
Daryl wrenched himself away from the door, pacing the floor as silently as he could. He hated this, hated being trapped and hidden away. He despised the fact that he was surrounded, incapable of action; dependent completely on others.
And he had another depended on him.
Daryl somehow didn't mind this fact quite as much, seeing as Carol was watching him pace silently, not interrupting his thinking. Most everyone else in the group would have tried to talk to him, tried to help him plan. Most everyone else thought he was dumb as shit, and couldn't plan neither.
Carol definitely didn't think he was stupid, seeing as she was entrusting her life to his strategical skills.
"Carol!" He finally hissed, an idea springing to mind. "D'ya have any extra fabric on you? Another shirt? Your underwear? Anythin'?"
She smirked, and it was completely sensual and went straight to his gut. "Why, Daryl, I do believe you missed your chance for that when we were in the loft."
He let out a short laugh, a warm sound in a den of danger. "I wasn't meanin' that! It's for a message, y'know, for the others."
Carol frowned, "You want to send a piece of my clothing to them as a message. You're such a caveman."
Daryl gaped at her, "Damn woman, that's not what I meant! I was sayin'-"
Carol giggled quietly, "I know, I'm just teasing."
Teasing; Daryl had never really had a whole lot of teasing in his life. Mocking, anger, fighting... sure, he knew what those were. But he had never had anyone tease him playfully before.
He scowled, "Carol, you're s'posed to be scared, not crackin' jokes!"
She sighed, "Took my mind off this whole situation, a bit."
Fuck, he shoulda just let her poke fun, shoulda just let her tease him into the ground. He was turning into an emotional wreck with her standing there nervously, wanting simultaneously to shut her up and console her, and he was apparently good at neither of those things.
"There's a cloth for the horses, I'll get it." She ducked behind one of the stable walls for a moment, peeking back out with a dirty blue rag in her hand. "Is this okay?"
Daryl took it and spread it out, measuring its size. He pulled his knife and set the cloth on the flattest part of the ground. Cutting ever so carefully, he managed to slice a message into the fabric. When he held up his finished product Carol smiled.
"Back door. Ten mins." She repeated in a whisper.
He stood, rolling his shoulders. He pulled an arrow and attached the cloth to it through a small rip. It would change the direction of the arrow's flight, but Daryl was nothing if not a damn good marksman, even with interference.
"Hold this." He handed the knife to Carol and started to climb the scaffolding of the barn, hauling himself onto a small ledge where a latched barn window lay. Ignoring the slivers that dug into his palms every few seconds Daryl pulled himself in front of the window, balancing quite precariously on a beam. He unlatched the window and opened it wide, staring straight across the yard to the house. There was a single light on, one that he hadn't seen from the ground. They had a lamp in one of the upstairs hallways. It was barely lit, but it proved that they were still alive, and still aware.
He slung his crossbow into his arms and took aim, too high and a bit to the left, knowing the rag should drag the arrow straight into the window. He fired without a second thought, grateful again that he had a weapon he knew how to use that was silent.
The bolt went farther right than he expected, and instead of going straight through the window it buried itself in the shutter ouside the house.
"Fuck." Darly muttered, cursing himself. Granted, he was less than a foot off on a shot that was barely possible even without a rag warping the arrow's flight, but still, he had screwed it up.
But, for once, his shitty luck turned around as a face appeared in the window, scared and drawn. He recognized Maggie, even from this far away. She was talking to someone, and as soon as she saw the arrow she grinned broadly. Daryl was glad for once that Maggie was so obnoxiously nice, because if it had been Lori he wouldn't doubt she would let the arrow drop without a second thought.
He almost respected her for that; Lori was nothing if not ruthless at protecting her family. Still, if it had been her who found the arrow, and she had ignored it, he would have had to kill her. She protected Carl and Rick, but Daryl would be damned if she would harm him or Carol.
Maggie tugged on the arrow viciously, but it wasn't moving from the shutter. She pulled the cloth off, holding it up to see the message written on it. She turned immediately, and Daryl could almost imagine her bossing Glenn around.
She turned once more and stared hard at the stables, probably trying to make out his every feature in the barn window. Eventually she just held her arm out the window, her thumb extended. She shook this slowly up and down, as if to imitate a nod.
Daryl scrambled to the ground, finding Carol exactly where he left her, the knife clutched in her fingertips.
"We got five minutes." He told her, "Keep the knife, and get ready."
She nodded, trust filling her eyes. Daryl memorized every inch of that expression on her face, so genuine and different from the way anyone else had ever looked at him before.
He leaned down, a little awkward, a little unsure; her lips met him halfway, and one hand crept onto his neck, it's warmth surprising and pleasant. They pulled away, and she was almost smiling -almost, because she couldn't quite manage a full smile when they were about to run for the lives. Daryl couldn't force a smile either, although he was happy. Happier than he thought he could be while risking his life; happier than he had ever been even before the end of the damn world.
Goddamn Merle could fuck off, Daryl didn't need him. Guess after everything he owed Rick a favor.
"Let's go. Stay close, and run fuckin' fast." He unlatched the main doors, the scraping of the metal sounding ominous and too loud, despite the care he took to open it.
He cracked the doors, a minuscule amount, just to peek out. They were clear, no walkers were in line for the house. They would have a head start of seconds before the walkers started surrounding them.
"I hope you're fast." He muttered, then yanked the door open, wide as he could, and started to sprint. He didn't look back, reassured in the sound of Carol's breathing beside him. She was panting, probably more from fear than from actual exercise. Daryl wondered if he had ever moved this fast, and thought that he probably hadn't. Although it might have been possible in his desperate search for Sophia, that he had run this fast. Trying to find her, trying to escape the group, trying, trying, trying.
A squeak escaped Carol, and Daryl swung his eyes backwards for the first time since their sprint had begun. A walker was reaching for her, snatching at her shirt. Daryl was ready to pull his second knife and slaughter it, but Carol was a bit quicker than he had ever expected, and she struck out with the knife he had given her, slicing a finger off the walker's hand. It was by no means debilitating, but it did swing his momentum enough that he tumbled to the ground.
"Door! Door!" Daryl yelled in short bursts, his legs carrying him to the porch incredibly fast. The door was still sealed shut.
They were literally at the bottom of the porch stairs when the door swung open, Glenn holding the handle with white knuckles. Daryl threw himself into the threshold of the house and spun back to the door.
Carol barreled into him, gasping, the knife bloody in her hands. He lowered her to the floor, and for a second he recalled the last time he had done this exact motion: when Sophia had stepped out of the other barn. This time, Carol was screaming and crying and fighting him. He heard the knife hit the floor, and Glenn slammed the door, blockading it once more with all sorts of reinforcing two by fours, and a desk. Carol clutched the back of his sleeveless shirt, panting and gasping and pulling him close for reassurance.
He rubbed her back awkwardly and picked up the knife from the floor, watching Glenn turn to them in amazement and happiness. Maggie was pale, but smiling.
"We can't believe you're alive." she whispered, "Both of you. We thought both of you were dead."
Daryl shrugged, and pulled Carol to her feet. She was catching her breath, composing herself, but she still had a handful of his shirt in her hand. He didn't really mind, not if it made her feel safer. He liked that he made her feel safer; he liked that she took comfort in his presence.
"Take more than a couple of dumb walkers to get us." Daryl muttered. "Uh, thanks, for uh, you know, openin' the door."
Glenn laughed, nervously, his hand shaking, "Anytime, I guess. Come on, upstairs. We stay up there now."
They followed him through the house, Carol finally letting go of the fabric of his shirt, but sticking close to him. The stairs were piled with objects, a path cleared on one side. Glenn grabbed a small table on his way, and Maggie took two chairs.
"Grab something, we want to build the blockade back up again." Glenn grunted, strained with the weight of the table. Daryl snatched more chairs and Carol took the end table by the front door, which had been blocked off with a wardrobe. They let Carol and Maggie go first, holding the chairs and table at the top. Glenn took the end of the lineup, dropping his table in the middle of the stairs, and letting Daryl trail the other chairs behind it. By the time all the objects were piled up again it looked like an impenetrable wall of junk.
Rick was standing in the center of the sitting room upstairs, the rest of the group sitting around him. They all looked excruciatingly nervous, and when they saw Carol peeking out behind Daryl's form grins broke out everywhere.
"Carol!" Lori rushed to her, arms extended. Carol didn't hesitate in wrapping her up in a hug, and Andrea joined shortly after. Daryl scanned the room, nodding to Rick and Dale. Shane still looked pissed at him, but he seemed happy that Carol was alive and well.
It was Carl that took him by surprise, leaping off the couch and racing over, wrapping skinny arms around his waist. Daryl stared down at his mousy brown hair, shock flooding his body. Carl let go quickly, but he grinned up at him in a way that reminded of Rick, but more youthful, happier.
"Thanks Daryl. I knew you'd bring her back." He said, his grin unbroken by Daryl's surprise.
"You're welcome, I guess." Daryl muttered, heading over to the couch. He ignored everyone's glances at him, some of them surprised, some grateful. His crossbow was set against the wall, and Daryl laid the bloody knife Carol had used beside it.
The second he thought of her his eyes flickered upwards, checking on her. She was smiling with the other women, and Daryl had never been so pleased to see her in the light. She looked good, if still a little heartbroken over her daughter. She was laughing with Andrea, and Daryl watched as the corner of her eyes crinkled.
Goddamn, it was definitely something different in the barn than it was in the house. Jesus, in the barn she had needed him to keep her safe. But now? Now that she was back with the group; now that she was protected and shielded again?
What the fuck had he been doing, thinking that she'd still hang around him?
But as these thoughts ran through his brain, and Merle's voice washed through him with an acrid poisonous wrath, Carol glanced at him. Their eyes met, and Daryl froze, unsure what to do now that he had been caught staring and wishing and hoping. But Carol smiled, so gently and perfectly; the way she had in the barn.
Nothing had changed. Not in Carol, and certainly not in him.
She broke away from the women eventually, and came to sit by him. She sat close, but not so close that he felt pressured, or felt like everyone was staring at them. Everyone was busy anyway, talking and laughing and sharing small bits of food they had been hoarding.
"No one will say anything." She murmured softly, "It can be our secret."
Daryl frowned, "I don't wanna pretend."
"Then tell them." She shrugged.
He looked at her, really looked, then. There was no shadows or darkness to hide her face, and Daryl just watched her after she said those words, that meant so much to him. Terrifying, exhilarating, freeing, and so, so goddamn beautiful.
He shrugged back at her, "They ain't stupid. They'll figure it out."
She smiled, "So will we."
Daryl Dixon watched her navy eyes, and the smile that she shared with him. Then, he gave her a smile back, an absolutely real, genuine, once in a lifetime smile.
It was absolutely perfect, the most amazing moment Daryl had ever had. Everyone was chattering away, but he was sitting in perfect silence with another person, another person that he actually gave a shit about.
And that's when they heard the gunshots.