The First Time He Gave Her A Christmas Present
It was Christmas, or as near as they could tell. Fittingly, they had stopped for the night in a little abandoned country church. The only windows were high off the floor, and they barricaded the front and back doors with some turned-over pews. It was as safe as it could be for the night.
The mood was mostly subdued, of course. It was nothing like the Christmases of the past, for any of them. But still the group sat around in a circle and laughed and talked and exchanged little gifts. She found a little packet of bobby pins in her bag that she had been saving for Sophia to give to Beth. They had all been gathering up candy in the past couple weeks to give to Carl. Lori gave her a new pair of socks that she had been hoarding, and she smiled at her friend with affection at the thoughtful gift. Funny how the little things that would have barely merited the name "present" in the past were so precious now.
T-dog even produced three bottles of wine that he had found the day before, and they all toasted together (save for Carl and Lori), while Beth sang Christmas carols quietly from a little hymnal she had found.
He wasn't with them. She had heard him tell Rick gruffly as soon as they had secured the back door that he would take watch, and she watched him out of the corner of her eye as he marched upstairs. There was a little empty office in the steeple up there, she heard him say. Windows all around so they could see if anyone or anything was approaching.
It didn't surprise her that he didn't want to take part. He was as much a part of the group as any of them, but he still seemed more comfortable on the outskirts just like he had been back at the quarry. And he only really seemed comfortable talking to Rick now anyway. Certainly more comfortable than he was talking to her or even being near her.
When it was time for bed, she stumbled over a little tipsy to her bedroll that had been laid out between Lori and Beth's. That's when she noticed that there was something sitting on the pack that she used as a pillow.
It was a brown paper bag, neatly folded over. She opened it curiously and drew out a shiny new buck knife. There were no markings on the bag and no note, nothing to show where it had come from or who had placed it there. But she knew immediately that it was from him.
A month before they had been almost caught while on a run together. She had seen his frustration when they had been trapped together in the little back room, and seeing him search the room frantically for a way out, she had been ashamed that she was unarmed and still all but helpless. A burden, despite everything she had tried to do to remake herself in the weeks since she killed that Walker. Not any kind of proper back-up for him.
Still, she had tried to reach for his knife as they waited pressed together behind the door. To do what she could if the men did find them in their hiding place. And since that day, she had been on the lookout for a knife of her own, but hadn't come across anything yet, other than a little rusty dagger that had seen better days. But this was perfect. She was surprised and touched that he had remembered.
The wine gave her unexpected courage so she decided to slip upstairs before she could lose her nerve. To thank him and apologize and try to get him to talk to her again, even if it was only to say Merry Christmas.
It was a small room, old Bibles and hymnals stacked to the windows. There was no bell in the steeple, only a little table to serve as a desk.
He was standing at one of the windows, his bow on the floor at his side, his eyes sweeping the fields around the church. She knew he must have heard her climb the stairs, but he didn't turn around. Just kept staring out at the ground below. It was obvious he didn't want her there, disturbing his watch. Still, she couldn't leave it like this between them.
She felt flushed and awkward. They had only been alone together twice since the farm. The first time when he had come upon her after she had killed the Walker, and the second when they had gone on the run together. Neither time had he seemed happy to see her nor displayed any interest in talking to her, other than to scold her fiercely for going off alone or tell her she wasn't coming out on runs anymore. She had tried since then to catch his eye, to smile and invite him to sit with the group, but the closer she got to Lori and the others, the more he seemed to seek out just Rick for company.
She hopped up on the table facing his back, swinging her feet back and forth nervously. He didn't look back at her, and the silence stretched between them.
She cleared her throat. "I just wanted to thank you," she said. "For the knife." He turned to her and regarded her seriously, one finger slipping up to his mouth so that he could chew on his fingernail. For a second, she thought that he might deny that he was the one who had given it to her, and she felt acutely embarrassed for calling him out when he obviously didn't want her to acknowledge it.
She had just decided that he wouldn't be answering her, when he spoke. "Didn't want you tryin' to take mine again next time we're on a run." She grinned over to him, relieved, and saw his lips quirk a little in a smile back. But then she was so anxious to make it right between them again that she couldn't stop the words from rushing out to ruin it all.
"I'm sorry about what I said about Randall and what I said that night after the farm and I'm sorry that I didn't say thank you earlier, for everything, for you going after Sophia and…"
She stopped babbling when she saw him wince slightly, and she looked down helplessly at her hands in her lap. She had messed up again. It had been a mistake to mention Sophia, she could tell by the look on his face.
She kept her head down, wondering how to salvage this. She couldn't stop swinging her feet under her as she sat on the table, just like a little kid in a too big chair, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. She knew it was annoying; she could tell that it was annoying even with half a bottle of wine in her. But she just couldn't stop.
She heard him move away from the window and come closer to her. Still, she couldn't look up. He stepped forward until he stood just between her knees. She could feel the heat of his body with his nearness. He put his hands out to rest on each of her legs and pressed down gently. She stopped swinging her feet and finally looked up.
"Stop apologizin'" he said softly, looking down at her. His eyes were so blue, and that reminded her frantically of what he had said to her when they had been alone at the CDC. At the thought of that night, and of him kissing her before passing out while she laid awkwardly across him on the cot, she felt herself blush and without meaning to, her eyes dropped down to his lips.
She couldn't seem to stop herself. She felt her chin tip up slightly and she swayed forward just a little, looking up again to meet his eyes. She couldn't read the expression in his face, but he didn't move his head back. Just continued to stare down at her. And then, she felt his hands grip her knees a little more firmly. She searched his face and felt almost as though he was leaning closer to her...
"Daryl?" she heard Rick say from the stairwell. She jumped, and they both turned quickly to see the light from a flashlight shining off the walls as Rick came up the stairs. She darted her head back to him, but he was already turning away. He took his hands off her legs and stepped back to look again out the window.
Rick walked in and stopped short to see her there perched on the table, feet swinging even more furiously than before. "Oh…Carol, I'm sorry. Just wanted to talk over the plans for tomorrow with Daryl."
She forced a laugh and jumped off the table to head for the door. She kept her head down, hoping Rick wouldn't notice her flushed cheeks and if he did, maybe just blame it on the wine. "Don't mind me, Rick, just saying Merry Christmas!" Her voice sounded high and unnatural, even to herself. Rick moved aside to let her pass, and she started to head down the stairs.
"Carol?" She heard him say behind her before Rick could speak. She paused in the doorway, waiting. "We're good."
She didn't look back or respond. Just made her way as quickly as possible back to the group and crawled in her sleeping bag between Lori and Beth. She felt her cheeks burning. We're good? Andrea had told her that he had said the same thing to her after she had mistakenly shot him.
Two more seconds and she would have been trying to kiss him, and all he was thinking was "We're good." Translation, no doubt, "stop bothering me, woman."
She was mortified. Every time she was around him, she did something to embarrass herself or invade his space or make him uncomfortable. She had to stop. He was a member of the group. She couldn't make him feel like she was hanging on him or that he needed to be something to her that he wasn't to any of the others. It just wasn't fair to him.
She resolved that from then on, she would give him his space and stop trying to make him something that he didn't want to be. As she drifted off to sleep finally, head spinning, her hand closed around the knife under her pillow. She smiled a little. Even though she was embarrassed as hell, it was still the best Christmas present she had ever gotten.