Here you go guys, let me know what you think. Thank you for all the wonderful reviews for the last chapter, and the birthday wishes. I enjoy reading all of your comments, it really revs up my motivation to write. Enjoy and I'll see you next chapter!
Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead.
Swallowing thickly, Carol moaned as her head throbbed, brain threatening to break through her skull. The light from the window was blinding, causing waltzing white dots to obstruct her vision. She could only make out bits and pieces of her surroundings, but she knew she wasn't in her apartment and fear gripped her as memory struggled to catch up. After an agonizingly long time, she remembered the night's events. She was in Daryl Dixon's house, in his bed no less. She was tangled in sheets and fought to free herself, her head spinning and stomach churning from her efforts. Her mouth was bone dry and her tongue was thick and heavy, making her gag.
Desperate not to be sick in Daryl's room, she made an effort to roll towards the edge of the bed. Rolling too far, she crashed to the ground in a heap, a mess of limbs and bedding. Faintly, a sharp pain in her left wrist registered in the back of her mind but her stomach couldn't wait. Without a second thought, Carol gathered the sheets around her unceremoniously and stumbled out into the hallway. There were two other doors in the hall and she lunged frantically for the one closest to her, praying for a bathroom. She was in luck and immediately she was kneeling in front of the toilet, seconds to spare.
She was dying. She had to be. Her stomach was turning inside out and making its way up her throat. Her chest was on fire, the whiskey from last night burning more coming up than it did going down. Her condition did nothing to ease the pounding in her head and the pulsating rhythm behind her eyes. In a moment of temporary reprieve, she recognized a booming, guttural laugh. Bloodshot eyes turned to see Daryl leaning in the doorframe, still in sleep clothes, not even bothering to hide his amusement.
"Can't even hold your liquor. Lightweight."
"Don't yell." The sheets fell around her lower half as she curled herself around the toilet bowl, moaning as she fought off a wave of nausea.
"Don't go gettin' sick all over my sheets. I'll make you take 'em down to the river and hand wash 'em yourself." Something told her he was serious.
"Coffee's ready in the kitchen, and some toast if you're hungry. It'll settle your stomach and help that hangover you're nursin'. Aspirin's in the cabinet over the sink." He shut the door to give her privacy, leaving her before she could say anything else.
Once she was able to lift herself from her cocoon on the tiled floor, she dragged herself over to the sink, rinsing her mouth out and splashing water onto her face. One look at the mirror and she'd had enough. Her eyes were drooping and bloodshot, her short curls tangled, and there was a faint red mark on her cheek from sleeping on her hand. The idea of Daryl having seen her while she was sick was bad enough, the fact that she looked as rough as she did now was mortifying. She'd always considered herself to be rather plain looking, not hideous but not shockingly beautiful either, but she felt insecure knowing that a man with Daryl's rugged good looks had seen her in such a state of disarray. She ran wet hands through her hair, managing to tame it into an acceptable style, but it was about as much as she could do. She found the aspirin Daryl had mentioned and popped a few back with some water, hoping it would work quickly.
After returning her nest of sheets back to the bedroom and remaking Daryl's bed, she stumbled into the kitchen. She was still queasy and lightheaded, but at least the white dots were gone and she could see clearly. She slumped into a folding chair at the card table that must have sufficed as a dining room table, resting her elbows on top. Groaning, she buried her face in her hands. She could feel the heat and smell the coffee that Daryl must have placed in front of her when she sat down before she even saw it. It lured her hands away from her face and she drank greedily, ignoring the bitter taste of the black coffee.
"I don't drink any of that girly cream shit, but there's some milk in the fridge if you don't drink your coffee black. No sugar though." She waved him off, taking another drink from her mug. She didn't really care for black coffee, but she couldn't be bothered to prepare it otherwise. They sat in silence for a while, enjoying their drinks, Carol at the card table and Daryl sitting on the edge of the countertop.
For the first time since she'd been in Daryl's home, she took the time to really look around. She had noticed how bare the place was last night, and it left her with a detached, empty feeling. Other than the pictures above the fireplace, there were no personal touches. The furniture was mismatched and worn looking, matters of convenience rather than aesthetics. It was clean though, an observation that mildly surprised her. Ed and his friends had been complete slobs, never picking up after themselves, and she had grown to expect that in all men. Even her father, as wonderful as he was, had been quite messy and disorderly. But there was no clutter here, no mess. The floors looked clean and everything had a proper place, though admittedly that would be easy to accomplish given the lack of stuff to begin with. Daryl coughed dryly, interrupting her thoughts.
"You sure did a number on Douchebag last night. Where'd you learn to fight like that?"
"I was really just hitting him anywhere I could. I know a few self-defense basics, you know, groin, eyes, nose. I was just trying to get away." She shrugged self-consciously.
In all honesty, she didn't know where her fight had come from. She'd only ever fought against Ed once, the second time he'd attacked her. The first time he'd simply slapped her and walked away, leaving her too stunned to do anything but stare after him. The second time he'd knocked her to the ground and kicked at her brutally. She'd managed to stand and as he continued his attack, she had tried to hit him back, fists balled up small and tight. It hadn't gone so well in her favor. That was the first night he'd forced her to sleep with him. He'd treated her so brutally that night that she hadn't dared fight back afterwards. Fighting and standing up for herself had only ever made the situation worse.
But she'd fought last night and she'd won, if you could call it a win. She'd gotten away from Dave before he could do anything and it showed her once again just how much her mindset had changed since she'd left Ed. It was empowering. She knew part of it had been sheer dumb luck, but it didn't matter. She'd tried, that was the important part. She hadn't just taken and accepted her fate like she would have when she was with Ed.
"What were you doin' out so late anyway?"
"I was working a late shift, traded with one of the girls. The uniform didn't tip you off?" She still had on her polo from Irma's, her apron back in Daryl's bedroom with her shoes.
"Smartass."
"I could ask the same for you, what were you doing out at that time of night? Stalking me?" Daryl's face morphed quickly into an expression of anger, but seeing her smile, eyes crinkled playfully, he relaxed. He snorted, shifting his weight around, uncomfortable.
"Was outta town for the day, I was just gettin' back in when I saw ya." His stance made it clear that was all he had to say on the matter.
"You hurt your wrist last night?" His attention was on her hand now, and Carol raised her arm to inspect her injury. Her left wrist was swollen, and a small dark bruise had already started to form. It was uncomfortable to move it, but she had a high tolerance for pain. She had forgotten about it while she was lying on the floor in Daryl's bathroom, but the injury explained the pain she felt when she fell out of bed. Experience from Ed told her that it was probably sprained, but thankfully not broken.
"I fell out of bed when I got up this morning. I think I did it then. It's just a little sprain, I'll wrap it and it'll be good as new." She'd known worse pain than a sprained wrist before, dealt with worse pain on her own the nights she was too afraid and ashamed to go to the emergency room.
Daryl hardly paid attention to her as he left the kitchen. He came back carrying a small box, setting it in front of her.
"I've got some bandages in there. Ya need help wrappin' it?"
"I can manage. It isn't the first time I've dealt with a sprained wrist." Daryl quirked a brow, but remained silent. He watched her as she wrapped her wrist with deft fingers, but when it came time to secure the binding, she fumbled awkwardly one-handed. She'd been paying so much attention to her task, she didn't notice Daryl kneel down in front of her until his fingers were on her arm. He took the end of the bandage from her and gently secured it in place. He pulled her arm out to inspect her work, nodding when he deemed it sufficient. Carol stared at him, transfixed by the serious expression of his features, holding her breath. She was reminded of how warm his hands were, how rough. It was too soon when he stood and returned to his spot on the countertop.
He drank from his coffee mug, eyes down, ears tinged red.
"You're a magnet for trouble, ya know that?" Boy, did she.
"It's just my luck, I suppose." She humored him, flexing her hand to test the tightness of her bandage.
"Yeah, well, start carryin' around a rabbit's foot or a four leaf clover or somethin'. I can't always be savin' your ass." Her head shot up, offended, but she calmed seeing the smirk he was trying to hide behind his coffee mug. Two could play that game.
"Maybe I like it when you save my ass." He was blushing again and she found that it made him even more attractive, this bashful side of him. She'd never teased a man before, Ed wasn't known for his good sense of humor. It was fun, and it gave her a sense of powerful femininity she'd never experienced.
She liked this side of herself and this side of Daryl as well. He was awkward and a little socially inept, but it seemed as though they had found their footing with each other, finally. She rather enjoyed talking to him, though talking might not be the right word, given how little of it he actually did. The silence didn't bother her though, it was almost companionable, and it was a nice change from the men she was used to spending time with. It baffled her that she kept finding herself in positions that always seemed to lead her to Daryl. She'd never thought much about fate and destiny, but there was something unexplainable about her tie to the man. She realized that explanation wasn't necessary to her anyway. She was more than content with letting things fall into place on their own, no questions asked.
"Well, I've got some shit I need ta take care of today, so I better get ya on home." He took both of their mugs and began washing them in the sink while she went to retrieve her shoes. She found him in the living room afterwards, keys in hand, waiting to walk her out. Daryl lived about ten minutes from the center of town by car, and the ride to her apartment was short and quiet. She hesitated for a moment as she went to let herself out. She thanked him, but somehow that didn't seem like it was enough. She couldn't find the words, however, and hopped down from the passenger's seat, turning to wave at him as she walked up the path to the front entrance. He nodded, looking unsure of himself, and stayed parked in front of her apartment building until she disappeared inside. She watched from the window as he disappeared down the street.
Irma and Dale had been kind enough to give Carol a couple of days off to rest her wrist. She'd been off for three days, but couldn't afford to miss any more work, so she was on her way for an afternoon shift. Her wrist was still wrapped, just to be on the safe side, but she didn't think it would be an issue. She was working with Beth that afternoon, who was sitting in the back room with her before their shifts began.
Her apron had seemed to disappear on her, and as Andrea came into the back room, Beth offered to go grab a new one for her. Carol greeted her friend, expecting Andrea to lament about the hardships of her morning shift. What she didn't expect was for Andrea to fix her with a long, hard stare. Carol wondered if she'd done something to upset her, but she couldn't think of anything and prepared herself for one of Andrea's inevitable lectures.
"You know, Sarah, I'm just trying to look out for you, but if you're so insistent on not taking my advice there isn't anything I can do. Why are you so hell bound on running around with Dixon?" Carol was confused. They hadn't talked about Daryl for a while now, he hadn't been to the diner again as far as she knew, so for Andrea to bring it up now was peculiar.
"Andrea, I can make my own decisions. I appreciate you trying to help, but I can handle myself. Daryl isn't that bad, if you give him a chance." Andrea scoffed, throwing her hands in the air.
"You know he's a bad guy, I've told you that a hundred times! Why won't you listen to me? I bet he's got something to do with you spraining your wrist." She was gesturing wildly, frustrated with Carol.
"Why would you think he had anything to do with this?"
"Because you spent the night at his house!"
"How do you know that?" Andrea was silent, taking a step back. She was looking at Carol as if she were a stranger.
"I didn't even know if that was true or not. I thought maybe it was just a rumor, but obviously, you're not trying to hide anything. I did not expect that from you Sarah."
"How do you know I was at Daryl's house?"
"Dave was running around, telling everyone that Dixon beat the shit out of him for no reason. His nose is broken, for God's sake. He said that you went home with him, that you guys are sleeping together or something." Appalled, Carol's jaw dropped at the accusation. She hardly even knew Daryl, she wasn't the kind of woman to sleep with some guy she'd just met. The fact that Dave was the one spreading the rumors filled her with fury. Part of her was glad she'd broken his nose.
"That's not true! Dave attacked me, I got away from him, and Daryl found me. I was in shock, could barely remember anything, so he took me home."
"To take advantage of you."
"No! What else was he supposed to do? He didn't know where I lived, didn't know where else he could take me. He wasn't just going to leave me on the side of the road. We didn't sleep together, he slept on the couch."
"That's not what everyone else thinks."
"So you're going to believe everyone else over me?"
"Well, your story and Dixon's reputation don't exactly mesh, Sarah."
"I can't believe we're even having this conversation right now. I'm your friend, you're supposed to believe me! Nothing happened at Daryl's house. I fell out of bed and sprained my wrist, Daryl had nothing to do with it."
"Guys, stop fighting!" Beth had returned, an extra apron for Carol in hand. She looked between the two, clearly wondering how a fight had broken out between them in her absence.
"Gladly. My shift's over, I'll see you later." Andrea turned and stomped out of the room, leaving Beth to deal with a deflated Carol.
"What happened?" She helped Carol to sit, speaking in a soothing tone.
"She told me about the rumors that Dave's spreading about me and Daryl. I told her they weren't true, but she doesn't believe me. How can she not? She's my friend! It shouldn't even be a question."
"I heard the rumors, they're all over town. I don't believe them, if you say nothing happened then nothing happened. I didn't think Andrea would believe them either, but apparently I was wrong." Beth was holding her hand, squeezing it reassuringly.
"She thinks that Daryl's this horrible monster, but he's not. We've had our issues, but he's not as bad as everyone thinks he is. He's just a little different."
"I believe you. I mean, Daryl kind of scares me, but I never thought he was as bad as the rest of his family. You're my friend, and I believe you. Andrea will come around, I'm sure. She cares about you, she's just worried. She doesn't want you to get hurt."
"Daryl wouldn't hurt me." She fully believed that. The man let her stay at his house when she had no other option. If he was going to hurt her, he would have made his move that night.
"Then there's nothing to worry about. Don't let what Andrea says dictate your life. Sometime we just have to take a leap of faith and follow our gut. I'll support you as your friend, and Andrea will too. Eventually."
Beth was right. Andrea hadn't been spending time with Daryl, she had. If she felt comfortable hanging around someone who most people considered dangerous, then it was her own decision to live with. She didn't think she was making a bad decision, but if in the end things didn't work out in her favor, she'd deal with the consequences when the time came. For now though, she'd trust her instincts. She was already breaking through Daryl's shell, and she'd be damned if she gave up now.
"Thanks Beth. That means a lot."
"What are friends for, right?"
"I don't have any waitresses out on the floor, what the heck are y'all doin' back here? Scoot!" Irma had come bustling in, shooing the girls out from the backroom onto the floor. Before heading off to work their sections, Beth pulled her in for a hug and Carol was reminded of just how lucky she'd been in her time here in Ashwicke. Her life had taken a complete turn for the better since she ran, and she didn't regret a second of it. Things certainly hadn't been going the way she'd imagined, but she was happy for the first time in years, and that was what mattered. Andrea would come around, and everything would work itself out, she was confident of that.
