They spent the first 20 minutes in silence. Shepherd had given Beth something to help her sleep, figuring it would make the car ride easier. It appeared to be working, because she hadn't stirred once since they'd left. Daryl had been anxiously checking the rearview mirror every couple of minutes; he tried to control it but he just couldn't stop himself. His actions, he noticed, weren't lost on Carol. She seemed to be anxiously checking on him at about the same rate.
Finally, she spoke. "Before we left I talked to Doc Stephen about Beth."
He shifted uncomfortably in the seat. "Yeah?"
"Have you noticed how she sometimes says things...and it's kinda like... I don't know... like a scene ripped from the timeframe she can't remember?"
Daryl knew exactly what she was talking about, but instead said, "How ya mean?"
"Well, like this… while you were packing up the cars, she started talking to me about how she'd been thinking a lot about Maggie, and hoping that she'd found someone in DC to keep her safe, make her laugh. It was pretty obvious you hadn't told her about Glenn. But she was going on about the kind of guy who would be perfect for her, and I swear to God she described Glenn exactly."
"Coincidence," he muttered.
"Maybe," she replied. "But then she asked about kids. Said you hadn't mentioned any, and she wanted to know how it is that they could possibly survive the way things are." Carol lowered her voice even more. "She seemed so…sad. I asked her what she was thinking, and she said, 'if I hadn't ruined everything, maybe one day I woulda had a baby. Judy woulda been a nice name.' I told her that she already knew a baby named Judy. She seemed confused but not entirely surprised."
Ruined everything. He knew where she'd gotten a notion like that. He turned around quickly to take her in. Her cheek was flush with sweat, and he had a sudden urge to reach back and run his fingers along her jawline, tucking the stray strands of hair out of the way.
I see ya got a little Doc Jekyll and Mr. Hyde thang goin'on there, little brother. One minute ya wanna caress that smooth, baby-soft skin and the next ya wanna slap her to the backside of nowhere. How d'ya decide? You flip a quarter?"
He gripped the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles started to ache.
"Stephen believes her memory's returning. Says she's got what's called retrograde amnesia. Means you lost memories from before. He said as people get better, the memories can return. But not like you'd think. They tend to come back like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Little bits at a time, and in random order."
Daryl knew right then and there he truly was not a good person, because the first thought that came to his mind was, 'what if she remembers everything we went through together... and she still doesn't want anything to do with me?' He used to think Merle was self-absorbed. Well, he just put his brother to shame.
"Daryl…"
He made a little sound of frustration. "Don't know whatcha want me to say. Hope she remembers. Make things a lot easier…" his voice trailed off. "I mean, for when we meet up with Maggie. Not winnin' any awards for my story-telling capabilities. Didn't do such a bang-up job of filling her in."
Carol sighed. "So I hear."
"Meaning…"
"Rose told me you got a little heated while you were talking to Beth."
Daryl banged the steering wheel with his hand, forgetting for a moment to be quiet. He checked to make sure Beth hadn't awakened and then he mumbled, "Goddamn, that woman needs to mind her own business!"
"Daryl," Carol said calmly in response.
"What you want from me, huh?" He heard his voice break. "Didn't mean it. Don't intentionally wanna hurt her. I tried to keep her safe. I tried…"
"I know," she replied. She turned to look out the window.
His mind started to race. He needed to talk about it. About it all. Carol was right there. She cared about him, he knew. Maybe she could even help. But he just couldn't make the words come out.
After a while she said softly, "sometimes I think the person you hurt the most is you."
Something brittle hidden inside of him snapped, and before he could stop it, the words "I'm no good for her" tumbled from his lips. He hadn't meant to say it. It felt like a bald admission, like he might as well have told Carol that he wanted to drop on one knee and ask for Beth's hand in marriage. He was instantly, intensely mortified. "Sorry," he mumbled.
Carol opened her mouth as if to respond, then appeared to think better of it.
Daryl felt trapped. "Need to pull over. Take a leak." It was a lie, but he couldn't bare to be next to Carol after what he'd just said. Deftly he slid the car to the side of the road. They both got out and scanned the area. There didn't appear to be any walkers around. They watched the other two cars pull off a little ways ahead, clearly wanting to make sure they were ok. Carol gave a little wave.
"You don't have to tell me," she started slowly. "But I know you. Whatever happened between you two while you were trying to survive together… well, it's not wrong, Daryl."
"Nothin' happened." He was annoyed that his voice sounded full of regret.
Well, whose fault is that, Darlene? You wanna make it seem all romantic in your head…beauty this, beauty that, yada yada yada. But you know as well as I do that the moment that little vixen called ya 'Mr. Dixon' that you wanted to put her over your knee and spank her pretty little ass. And then do all sorts of other unspeakable things to it."
Daryl opened the car door and got back in. Carol followed suit. He wished he hadn't conjured up the "Mr. Dixon" incident, because when it happened it took all his restraint not to do exactly what Imaginary Merle had accused him of wanting to do. Beth assumed he'd flown off the handle because he was drunk. He'd let her think that because the truth was far worse: He was furious with himself for getting the most raging hard-on of his life when that innocent little girl called him 'Mr. Dixon' not once, but twice.
Your mood swings are giving me whiplash, Darlene. Ya gotta pick a story and stick with it. She your Madonna or your whore?
He stomped his foot on the gas so hard that the tires squealed on the way out.
"Nothin' happened," he repeated.