First off, I am sorry for the delay. I thought for sure this would be finished by Monday and I was totally wrong. For some reason, this was the hardest chapter I may have ever written in my life. And that leads me into Apology number 2. This sucks. Lol There really isn't anything else I can say about it. I've stressed over it, rewritten it, pondered different ways to go about writing it, and it turns out super crappy every time so I am seriously sorry for that.
Anyway, much thanks to all of you that gave this story a shot. Up until this last chapter, I loved writing it. You guys are awesome!
Chapter ten
He woke up with a strip of warm sunlight hitting his bare back. He'd slept like the dead after they had finally fallen asleep. He reached out but her side of the bed was cool, telling him she'd been up for a while. He rolled over, blinking up at the ceiling as the events of last night came rushing to the forefront of his mind.
Ever since he'd been a ten year old kid, he'd known that there was something about them that was different. A lot of people didn't believe in things like soul mates. He wasn't even sure if he believed in things like that. Not for anyone else, anyway. But he believed it about them and everything they had done the night before only cemented that fact in his mind.
He felt bad for people like Merle. Sure, the man was able to have a new piece of ass in his bed whenever he wanted it. But Daryl was positive that Merle probably wouldn't ever have an experience like he'd had the night before. To Merle, it was all about the physical and Daryl knew that the physical was a big attribute to the appeal and all, but it was more than that. Or maybe him and Carol were just weird. Actually, he knew they were, but he sure as fuck wouldn't have it any other way. This was one situation where he didn't mind being different than everyone else.
He opened the door and was assaulted by the smell of food. After the fiasco the night before he took off towards the kitchen, willing to give her a hand before she set the house on fire again. When he got to the doorway he stopped, blinking in surprise.
Merle was standing next to the stove, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest and his head turned so he could monitor Carol.
"Well, this isn't very hard at all," she said with a grin as she glanced up at his brother.
"Told ya."
"Where did you learn to cook?" She asked.
Merle shrugged. "I guess when you gotta fend for yourself, and don't wanna eat food that tastes like shit, you learn fast. You think you can handle it now?"
She nodded. "Don't tell him I called you."
Merle snorted. "You done told me that five times. 'Sides, you basically did it all on your own anyhow and you paid me twenty bucks to just stand here and watch you. I got shit to do but I'll be back later."
"Thanks, Merle," she beamed and then Merle pushed himself away from the counter, slapping Carol's ass harder than necessary on his way past.
Daryl rolled his eyes and slipped back into the hallway. She wanted him to think she did it all on her own and he'd let her. She must have been pretty damn desperate to impress him if she went to the trouble of calling Merle's crabby ass and then actually paying him. The two of them didn't have the greatest relationship so it was nice to see them doing anything other than glaring at one another.
When she came in he was pretending to buckle his belt, like he'd just gotten up. She grinned and then her face flushed. "Morning," she said before chewing her lip.
He looked up from under his brow, the corner of his mouth turning up. "Mornin'."
She gripped his hand and pulled him down the hall, sitting him at the table. She grinned when he realized that there was a small stack of worn notebooks sitting in front of him.
"What's this?" He asked, pulling the stack closer.
She laughed and then sat a plate down in front of him. Toast, bacon and eggs. The poor girl had needed Merle's help to cook something as simple as toast, bacon and eggs. Sighing heavily she sat down next to him with her own plate. "This is our future as seen through the eyes of a love sick preteen. Keep in mind that she knew very little about the ways of the world." She laughed. "This one is from when I was eleven." She handed him the one on top.
He read over the first few pages, laughing softly between bites. "Wow. You had it bad."
She nodded and grinned. "Hilarious isn't it?"
"So, since we were so much more mature than any other couple in the world we were suppose to get married when we turned fifteen?"
"Of course. I told you had plans."
"And by the time we're twenty five we're suppose to have fourteen kids?" He raised his eyebrow and glanced at her.
"Seven girls and seven boys because I didn't like being an only child and I didn't want my kids to get lonely. Of course, being eleven I wasn't sure exactly where a baby came from. I just knew I'd be fat for a while but didn't think you'd mind. The number gets drastically lower as the years go by. Trust me."
"I'd hope so," he muttered, turning his attention back to the notebook. "This is good, by the way. Told you you'd learn to cook." He wasn't sure if she would keep the lie going or if she would feel guilty about it and spill the truth.
She lowered her eyes to her plate and swallowed hard before dropping her fork. "It was Merle. He came and helped me."
He shrugged. "No big deal. Now you know how to do it."
"I paid him."
Another shrug and then he grabbed another notebook. She had been telling the truth. She had spent a whole lot of time mapping out their future. It shouldn't have been at this point, but it was strange. Strange to think that he could be so goddamn important to another person. So important that someone would spend this much time thinking about their future with him.
And then there was the gut wrenching fear that he was hit with when he realized that no matter how old she had been in each notebook, all of them mentioned kids. The last one, which was written just a year ago, was a lot more realistic than the others and still, she mentions having kids. The first when they were twenty two. The second when they were twenty four. The third when they were twenty six and then the last one when they were twenty eight.
"What's wrong?" She asked, glancing over her shoulder. He hadn't even realized that she'd taken their plates to the sink.
He shook his head and forced a small smile, laying the last notebook on top of the stack. "Nothin'."
She made a face. "Tell me," she insisted, hopping up onto the counter and swinging her bare feet back and forth.
He wasn't his father. He wasn't his brother. He'd turned into a good man when it came to Carol. He knew that there wasn't anything she could ever do to cause him to hurt her. He knew that. But Jesus, the thought of being a dad was about the most terrifying thought. It caused his heart to race. The thought of somehow messing up was crippling. Knowing that he had the power to crush a child without even using his fists, just like his dad had, was too terrifying. Terrifying because he didn't believe that his dad had started out that way. Surely if the man had known that he had it in him to hate his own son, he would never have had any to begin with.
But he'd turned into a monster and Daryl barely made it out of that house with his sanity intact. What if they went ahead and followed through with her plan and then he found himself hating one of his own kids? Hating them so much that all he wanted to do was hurt them? He didn't think he could ever do it but maybe his own dad, when he'd been Daryl's age, had thought the same thing.
He looked up. He should have said something about this before. He should have realized that if she wanted so badly to be a teacher that it was probably because she really liked kids and she would want some of her own. "I don't know if I'd ever want a kid. One kid. Let alone four kids. Fuck, we're still kids if you think about it."
She grew still and he saw her eyes widen a little. "Oh."
Fuck. This wasn't good. He could see the hurt in her face but didn't know what the fuck he could say to make it better.
"Ever?" She asked. "You've never even thought about it once?"
He shook his head.
She shrugged and forced a smile. "Okay. It isn't like it's a deal breaker. No kids then."
"Carol, I-"
She hopped down and shook her head. "It's okay, Daryl. I understand."
He searched her face and realized that she really did understand and that only made it worse. "Maybe later. Way later. We got a lot to learn before we should start worrying about stuff like that, ya know?" He said hurriedly.
She searched his eyes for while and then finally smiled. "A year."
His throat felt like it was going to close up. "What?"
"We'll talk about it again in a year. Give us something to look forward to." She sat down on his lap. "That gives you plenty of time to think about it."
He nodded but he knew that he wouldn't need more time to think about it. He'd try though. "Maybe we should get a dog first."
~H~
Five days later Daryl pulled up at the house after a rough day at work. He'd went to a diner for lunch and filled up so he wouldn't be too hungry when he got home. Carol was still struggling in the kitchen but what she lacked in cooking skills, she made up for in spades in the bedroom.
He toed off his dirty boots on the back patio and before he could open the door she rushed out and threw her arms around his neck. He didn't hug her back because he was filthy and he would get grime all over her so he just stood there.
She finally pulled back and grinned. "How was your day?"
He raised his eyebrows at her jubilant expression and then shrugged. "Just another day."
"How would you feel if I told you that we were gonna have another mouth to feed?"
He felt his body lock up with tension and his eyes slid down to her stomach like he'd be able to see something. Jesus, they'd only been doing it for five damn days! "What?"
"I bought a dog. I named him Doug."
He was so relieved that he blew out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He could handle a dog. A dog was okay. When he stepped into the kitchen he was greeted by a clumsy blue heeler pup that waddled in from the living room. He hadn't ever asked his dad for a dog because he figured the bastard would just get drunk and kill it for kicks. After his dad was gone he never really thought about getting one.
"Are you gonna throw a fit?" She asked, bending down and rubbing the little mutt behind the ears.
He shook his head. "Nah. I was the one that brought it up, remember?"
She snorted. "Yeah, I remember.
He hadn't brought up the kid issue anymore but after almost a week to think about it, he was able to calm down and look at it logically. There was something in his father and his brother that wasn't present inside him. A slow kind of madness that wasn't as apparent in Merle, and was completely missing in Daryl. He wasn't as afraid as he had been. The idea didn't send him into panic so he figured that by the time she was ready, he'd be ready too. But that wasn't going to be for a long time.
"Guess what else?" She grinned.
"With you it's hard to guess," he said, grinning right back.
"I can't believe you haven't noticed." Hands on her hips she watched him expectantly.
Uh oh. This was one of those moments that she changed some miniscule thing about herself and as soon as he didn't notice she was going to go on a tirade about how he didn't pay attention to her. He studied her closely but there was nothing different about her at all. Everything was the same as it had been when he'd left that morning. And then he smelled it. "That actually smells good," he said before he thought about what he was saying. "Did you cook?"
She gave him a dry smile. "I did. I stopped stressing and remembered when I'd help my dad make chicken. Once I stopped worrying about doing it right it kind of just came to me. It might not be as good as his yet but it's a start. And I invited..."
The door opened behind him and he turned as Merle walked in. Merle grinned. "You're a filthy mess."
Daryl rolled his eyes but couldn't stop the small smile. Carol and Merle getting along enough for her to invite him over for dinner wasn't some small thing. Sure, he'd helped her make him breakfast but only because she paid him.
~H~
That year seemed to fly by, and the years that followed it. He was used to time either standing still, like waiting for summer to come, or time running away, like the fleeting weeks that he was with her during the summer.
Carol's carefully laid out plan was falling into place beautifully until the year they turned twenty one. It was bound to happen because no one could ever expect for things to work out exactly like they expect them to. That way of thinking was pretty naive in his opinion but he didn't begrudge her for it. Him on the other hand, he was prepared for things to get off course. Not because he was a pessimist. It was because he was a realist. Or he liked to think so anyway.
The day had been warm but not oppressive like it had been all week. They had walked down the beach to the spot where they had first met and he gave her the ring. Twenty one was a little young for a move like that but they had technically been together for ten years and if you couldn't ask a girl a marry you after that damn long then you might as well just not ask, as far as he was concerned.
He expected tears but nothing like what had happened after she saw the ring. She had been acting off for weeks and he thought that maybe it was because of her mom. Mary had remarried and Carol had been happy for her but he knew that something was bothering her and all he could think of was Mary's wedding. The man was a good guy, though, even though Daryl felt a little like he was betraying Dean's memory by thinking so, but he couldn't force himself to hate the guy.
But it was more than tears when he'd given the ring to her. She had broken down completely and he had been terrified that, somehow, he had messed it all up. He wasn't the most romantic guy in the world but he hadn't thought he'd done too bad.
Turned out, it had nothing to do with his clumsy unoriginal proposal and it had nothing to do with her mom marrying another man. It was because she'd found out weeks ago that she was pregnant and was terrified that he was going to be upset about it.
But she had been wrong. February of that next year he met his daughter for the first time. All of his fears of being like his his own dad were forgotten. There wasn't any way that he could possibly love the little girl more. Somehow fatherhood just came natural. He didn't struggle like some men did, didn't try to pawn off the hard stuff. Another daughter followed two years later and then two years after that they had a son. Complications with the last pregnancy shot down any chances of Carol getting the four children she'd planned on having but that didn't seem to bother her.
Their lives were very full.
~H~
One summer night, at the age of thirty, he woke from a dream of his father that he couldn't shake from his mind. The man had been angry, ugly, spewing hateful words and Daryl had been unable to escape him. The words all ran together but he knew what the man was saying. He'd heard it all many times, and even though it had been a long long time since he'd heard the voice, the words were clear in his mind.
He slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Carol up, and padded barefoot down the hall. Doug, followed, nails clicking on the hardwood. He thought he'd sit for a while but he felt strangely energetic. It was nearly one in the morning and he didn't see any harm in strolling the beach for a while, which was exactly what he found himself doing a few minutes later.
He thought about the dream as he walked, watching the moonlight reflect off the still surface of the lake. He thought about his life in that house. He thought about the afternoon when he'd been ten years old and had fled to the woods. The beating hadn't been too severe that day. Most of the pain from that encounter was internal.
He stopped when he reached the tree and realized he had walked further than he'd planned. His eyes went to the tree line and he blinked when he thought he saw movement. Like the shadow of a child against the darker back drop of the woods. The longer he watched the more certain he was sure that he was being watched right back.
Glancing down at where he thought the dog was standing next to him, he was surprised to find the spot empty. He'd wanted to gauge the dog's reaction to the shadow. He looked back towards the trees and then nearly fell on his ass when he found a boy standing there a few feet away, staring at him.
"What the hell are you-" His voice trailed off when he recognized the face. It was his own. Or it had been when he'd been around ten.
"You still holdin' onto that baggage?" The boy asked.
Daryl frowned as he studied the boy's face. His lip was bloodied and his clothes were torn. Scratches marred the skin of his arms and a good sized bruise was forming on his cheek. Daryl swallowed hard. He'd taken a lot of beatings as a child but somehow he knew exactly which one this was. He was also acutely aware that he wasn't awake. This was a dream. He was staring at the boy that Carol had met on the beach that day. "What are you talkin' about?" He asked.
One slender shoulder raised in a shrug and the boy dug the toe of his warn boot into the sand before looking up and meeting Daryl's eyes. "Dad. You still think about all that shit. It stays in the back of your mind. Can't let it fester there forever, ya know? You just gotta let go of it. It's the only thing keepin' you from bein' happy really."
Daryl shook his head. "That ain't true. I'm happy now."
The boy watched him. "You still dream about him because he's still there. He's still in your head." The boy shook his head, shaggy hair falling into his eyes before he brushed it away.
"Ain't really nothin' I can do about that."
The boy scoffed and Daryl was reminded of his own son. Which kind of made sense in a weird way. "It wasn't easy but what if he hadn't been the way he'd been? You ever think of that?"
Daryl nodded. "I used to."
"You still do."
Daryl didn't argue. What was the point? If anyone would know it'd be this kid. "I guess you're right."
"Look, the things that happened, they happened cause they were suppose to happen. Everything does, even if it don't make sense. Even if it hurts. Even if it hurts so bad you think it's gonna kill you. In the end, there's always a reason for it."
Daryl shook his head. "What are you getting at?"
The boy sighed. "The reason you were here that day wasn't because you were runnin' from that asshole. The reason you were here that day, the day Carol came, was cause that was the plan. You needed to be here. You needed to meet her. You needed to meet her because that's just how things were suppose to be. If dad had been a decent man, you never would have came. You never would have met her. You woulda ended up somewhere else. Ended up with somebody you weren't meant to be with. You get what I'm sayin'? Stop carryin' around the baggage. Beating our ass was the best thing that man ever did to us. Everything he did, it shaped you into who you are now."
"Carol shaped me into who I am," he said, knowing it sounded stupid and pathetic but also knowing that it was the truth.
"No shit. That's my point."
"Forgive and forget, huh?" Daryl asked, running a hand through his own hair.
The boy nodded. "Your hate for him is about the only dark spot you got. Let it go. Be glad he was who he was. If he'd been any different, any different at all, then you would be too."
He woke with a start, sitting up. He swung his legs around until he was sitting on the edge of the bed. Running a hand over his face he blew out a heavy breath and then jumped when he felt a hand on his back. The dream had shaken him for reasons he wasn't even sure why.
"You okay?" Carol's sleep laden voice sounded softly next to his ear.
He nodded. "Fucked up dream."
"Your dad?" She asked coming up on her knees and wrapping her arms around his neck from behind. The solid warmth of her pressed into his back was chasing some of the strangeness away.
"Somethin' like that," he muttered.
"You wanna talk about it?" She asked.
He shook his head, grabbing her arm and pulling her around until she was on his lap. "No talkin'," he said gruffly, burying his face in her neck and breathing deeply.
She laughed sleepily. "Sick of my never ending commentary already?"
"Already?" He snorted. "Been listenin' to your never ending commentary for twenty years, women."
"Is that a yes?" She pulled back, smiling at him.
"Nope." He kissed her quickly and then stood up, dumping her onto the bed and causing her to laugh even louder. "I'm gonna grab a drink and then I'm gonna go the hell back to sleep. Too old to be up at two in the damn morning."
She grabbed his hand and yanked him down so hard that he was barely able to catch himself with his arms in time to keep from crushing her. He knew what she wanted so he kissed her hard. She hummed in the back of her throat, fingers threading through his hair. He pulled back after a few seconds. He wanted her. He always wanted her. Time had done nothing to change the ever present need to be with her, but he wanted a second to think about that damn dream.
She sighed heavily and her arms fell to her sides dramatically. "Fine. Go on and get your drink. Leave me here pining after you."
He grinned. "It'll do you some good." He kissed her one more time and then crawled off of her. He didn't look over his shoulder because then he wouldn't have ever left the room.
In the kitchen he grabbed a bottle of juice and then sat down at the table, his eyes going to the darkness pressing against the sliding glass doors. He picked at the label and then contemplated the dream. Usually he ignored dreams. He never really thought of them as messages but it really did seem as though his subconscious was trying to tell him something so he forced himself to remember every single word that the child version of himself had said.
Forgive and forget was what he apparently needed to do. But how was he suppose to do that when he wasn't even aware that he still had that thorn in his ass? It wasn't like he ever really thought about the man. Especially now that he had three kids of his own.
But that wasn't really true. Sometimes, when he least expected it, memories of his childhood would rear their ugly heads. Every once in a while he would second guess himself. He would wonder if the rug would get pulled out from under him and he'd lose everything just because he wasn't good enough. Not often. Lately, it was almost never, but it was still there.
He sat like that for a long time, staring at the darkness and working on forgiving the old bastard for what he'd done to him. It really was strange because it was all because of his dad that he had what he did now. He had a family. He had a good life that was full of great things. And the boy in the dream had a point. If not for the pain of his past, he never would have found the one person that made everything as good as it was. His path never would have crossed with hers.
After a while he got up and went back to the bedroom. Carol was asleep so he was careful not to wake her when he crawled back into bed. He didn't even have time to scoot closer to her before she was moving, seeking him out even in sleep.
He felt a little bit lighter. He was sure that it would still take some time to work through it all in his head, but it was a start. And until then he would keep on doing what he had been doing for the past twenty years. He would appreciate every second he had with the woman that was now wrapped around him. He would be the best father that he could be and he'd be happy. Nothing that had happened in the past had managed to crush him and now it was high time that he let go of the bad parts for good. He would always remember, but he didn't have to let those bad years get to him anymore. His dad had been a sick man. Maybe more sick that Daryl ever realized and he needed to let go of the hate.
As he drifted off to sleep he listened carefully to her steady even breaths that warmed his skin. The kid was right. He had too much in his life to waste any amount of it dwelling on that one dark spot. Carol mumbled something in her sleep like maybe she agreed with him.