The morning after the walkers overrun the camp is warm and sunny in stark contrast to the cold blood and sweat on the ground. The dawn breaks in the East and paints the sky in faded purple, like the colour of a violet, or a bruise. She sits by the light of the dying fire all night until the smoke turns white as it curls into the air, Sophia tucked under her arm on the bench seat from the Morales' old van. Despite the warm air, she can't stop shaking.
One minute Dale was talking about conquering time, and the next the air was filled with sounds of screams and shot guns. Shane and Rick quickly set up a watch, sending T-Dog and Daryl to check the perimeter, but the damage is already done. She watches Andrea's silent vigil over her sister's lifeless body and wishes she had something to offer the woman - but she has no words, only the courage to ask Lori to go and talk to her. Ed hasn't appeared, and she is too afraid to move to ask one of the men to check on him.
Some time after the sun has fully rose Glenn comes over to her, hat in hand. His face is red and blotchy from crying, and when he finally speaks his voice cracks.
"I'm sorry, Carol. They got Ed."
She suspected as much, but to have it confirmed is something she isn't prepared for. Sophia peeks her head up and looks from Glenn to her - hazel eyes full to the brim. He turns away quietly, unable to witness any more grief. She feels a hand on her shoulder and turns to see Lori, who pulls her into a tight embrace.
"I'm so sorry."
Strangely, the first thought she has is that they will label her as a widow now, instead of a victim. She's not sure which is worse.
All morning she stays on the seat watching everyone setting the camp to rights, like they can continue having philosophical chats around a fire if they can just get rid of the bodies. The only one who doesn't seem to gag and wince at the sight of the blood and body parts is Daryl. He storms around, throwing a pickaxe in the faces of every corpse (even the ones he shared meals with) like he's taking out the trash, utterly detached. He even tosses out a jibe at Rick, suggesting that this is all some kind of justice for Merle's fate.
When he heads in the direction of their tent (just her's now), she feels compelled to get up. Every wooden step she takes is a struggle, like she's climbing a mountain.
It is one thing to know Ed is dead. It is another to see what's left of him on the ground. Her breath catches when his body is revealed to her. His ribcage is visible through a tattered shirt. It's the only thing she can really use to identify him now. She had ironed it for him only yesterday. One arm and leg are completely gone, their absence jarring.
Daryl is swinging the pickaxe with vigour, effortlessly slamming it through skulls scattered in the dirt. He lifts his arms to strike at Ed. Without really meaning to, she walks closer to him. She's always kept her distance from him since that first morning at camp, but this new dawn has erased his intimidation in her eyes. She motions with her hands for him to stop, and he does - reading her request without words.
"I'll do it. He's my husband."
He doesn't respond. There is no defiance or contempt. He just hands her the pickaxe and gets out of the way. It's heavier than she expects, but she is determined.
At her feet, Ed's face is a bloated mass of blood and tissue covered with flies. His teeth are exposed, and she can see the chip on his incisor from a failed attempt at taking the cap off a beer bottle. His blue eyes are long gone. The first eyes that noticed her. The eyes that smiled at her while she cradled Sophia on the day she was born.
She is shaking harder, but somehow wills the pickaxe over her head. Just one strike, and it will all be over. Then she'll go back to Sophia and figure out where they go from here.
Gravity brings the metal claw down with more force then she intended. The impact reverberates up the handle and into the joints of her arm. She can actually feel the bones of his skull give way, like eggshell.
The sound of it triggers something deep inside her. The feeling of her own bones bending, breaking, being wrenched out of place. Being pushed down, manipulated, belittled—violated. And suddenly she is overcome with rage at the injustice of the life she has lived at his mercy - of the years he robbed from her. The torrent of emotions floods out of her like a landslide; violent and unstoppable. She strikes out in fury, again and again and again.
When she comes back to herself Ed's face is completely obliterated. Nothing remains but rotting flesh and black blood seeping into the dirt. Blisters and splinters bite angrily at her palms. The muscles in her arms and back are strained and aching. She takes a shaky breath, and starts when Daryl lays a calloused hand on the handle, urging her to let go.
—
With his hands still on her back, she can feel his nose glide lightly across the skin of her neck. Her eyes close to better savour the sensation. Just when she thinks she's imagining it, she feels the unmistakable wet heat of his mouth press firmly in the hollow of her collarbone. The air feels cool on the damp spot he leaves behind. The movement of her hands stops completely as she registers the kisses he is placing ardently, wherever his lips can reach, urging her to let go. They're free falling and she can do nothing but hold on and pray for a soft landing. It's enough to drive the breath from her lungs.
After a few minutes, that could have been hours, a final tender kiss lands just under her earlobe before he pulls back and rests his forehead on hers. His eyes are closed, like he is as unwilling to stop as she is. There is peace in this moment, though the air is charged between them.
She knows that their conversation is far from over, but for the first time she doesn't want to keep avoiding it. Maybe she's right. Maybe he can't fix her anymore than she can fix him, but that doesn't mean it's not worth trying.
The sun is just starting to rise, allowing her to see his swollen lips. He opens his eyes then, blue stars shining with so much trust and love. She feels it surround her like armour, bolstering her, lending her courage, protecting her from hurt, and it's all too much. She's never felt love like this, bubbling up from the deepest parts of her.
The tears stream from her eyes, blurring his face, and she is helpless to stop them. A gentle realization settles over her - there is nothing to fear from falling as long as they're falling together.
He doesn't move, just breathes deeply and waits for her, content with the present no matter what the future brings. She almost doesn't want to move - just live eternally in this moment with him.
Her eyes drift close, feeling the warmth of the sun and Daryl on her skin. She starts to tilt her mouth closer to his when the door to the diner crashes open. In an instant Daryl has a hand on his gun, and she swings around with her trench knife, only to see Eugene stumble out, blinking in the light.
"It's just me. I have an urgent need to relieve my bladder," he says, raising his hands.
Daryl holsters his gun with a huff and motions for Eugene to get going. He looks angry and imposing, but she can still see the blush on his cheeks that has nothing to do with the pink light in the sky.
"Could you come with me? I'd feel better if I had some protection."
Daryl glares at him, but Eugene doesn't take the hint. She gives him a look - Come on. Be nice.
"Go on. I'm right behind ya."
Satisfied, Eugene starts walking across the parking lot and into the woods. Daryl follows after, turning to look at her one more time. And it's there again - the love. Why has it taken so long for her to allow herself to see it - to feel worthy enough to accept it?
She mouths one word to him, Later. The corner of his mouth twitches upward and he nods his head.
—
They don't get to kiss properly for a few days after Eugene's badly timed interruption. The space between them is comfortable once more, and everyone in the group seems to sense it. Daryl sticks closer to her side than ever, progressing from playful elbow nudges, to clasping her hand when they bring up the rear of the group, to carefully placing an arm around her shoulders beside the fire one night.
Glenn raises an eyebrow at Michonne, who mimics his gesture and shrugs. Eugene opens his mouth to comment, but Tara elbows him in the ribs sharply and Rick turns their attention back to Judith, who is giggling at Abraham shifting his moustache.
She feels giddy, like she's back in high school and sneaking out of the house. There are no declarations or many opportunities to continue their conversation, but the promise that there will be time for all of it is enough for now. The way they feel about each other is present in every gentle touch and kindness they exchange every day.
When the kiss finally comes it takes her by surprise. She wakes up on the ground, covered by his long-sleeved shirt to find him propped up on an elbow staring at her. It's still early, and no one is up yet. The dawn is breaking, like the morning outside the diner, bringing her back to the comfort of his gaze.
Hi, she mouths to him with a smile, not wanting to wake the others and spoil the illusion of privacy.
Hi, he mouths back, though his eyes say so much more. They flit to her mouth and linger there before turning back to her eyes.
She shifts, heart pounding, closing her eyes and angling her face closer to his when she hears an audible thunk and feels a sharp pain on her forehead. Her eyes fly open to see Daryl lower his face to his hand, quietly cursing - a sizeable goose egg forming on his temple. She reaches out to caress the tender bump with her fingertips, stifling a laugh even though her own head is throbbing. It seems kissing requires more coordination than either of them had anticipated. He looks up, embarrassed and red faced, quickly examining her head, wincing and whispering "Sorry."
She turns her face into her sleeve to muffle a giggle before pulling away. He looks so forlorn and defeated that it's clear that he's not going to try again any time soon. In their world, time is too valuable to waste, so she leans forward and kisses the stubble on his chin, holding his head in both hands to prevent any more mishaps. Another silent kiss follows on the corner of his mouth, right on his tiny mole, before he turns slightly and seals them together. The throbbing in her head is instantly forgotten, replaced with dizziness and a throbbing in a decidedly less humorous place.
—
Kissing sweetly lasts for a few innocent days, but soon kissing turns into a hunger that is startling to both of them in its ferocity. One night, in the privacy of a claimed bedroom that will forever be burned into her memory he confesses, "I never felt anythin like this before." His voice, so full of awe and reverence, echoes in the ear she has pressed to his chest - bare from where his shirt still gaps open.
"Me neither," she sighs, moving her hand gently across his rib cage.
Their new found intimacy brings about surprising discoveries. They learn that she can come apart at the sound of her own name whispered in her ear - that he has a soft spot on the inside of his elbow that begs to be kissed.
She loves the hollow dip of his collarbone, and he loves her hair. He runs his fingers through it, tucking whisps behind her ears. They lay in bed together staring at each other in the semi-dark room catching their breath.
Later, when the boneless feeling in their bodies begins to pull them into a dreamless sleep, she whispers, "I'm so glad I met you."