Disclaimer: The Walking Dead does not belong to me.
They stood together on the bridge over the churning river for a long time, wrapped in the scant comfort of each other's arms. Eventually, Carol eased herself away and leaned against the bridge railing, rubbing her hands over her face.
"I guess we should head back to camp. We need the food and water we left there, since you shouldn't hunt for a while." She was always practical, even in tragedy. "We can stay there a couple of days to let you rest up."
Daryl tipped his head in a non-rib-jarring shrug and wandered across to the other side of the bridge to gaze back upstream. It felt like giving up on Mika – like they were abandoning her to the river. But he knew they didn't really have much choice. They'd come looking as far as they physically could and hadn't found her. Glancing off to the right, he frowned. There was something on the riverbank he hadn't seen before, since they'd previously been so focused downstream.
"There's somethin' here," he said, as he shuffled his way across the bridge to the far bank. She followed, and he could feel the hope radiating off of her, and he sort of wished he hadn't said anything. He should have looked first so she wouldn't be crushed if it turned out to be nothing.
"Look." He pointed at the bank below. "Someone was here recently. Several someones, actually."
He made his way carefully down the embankment to have a closer look. Skirting the area, he followed the tracks to a clearing a ways into the trees lining the road.
"There was a camp here last night. At least four people, maybe five. Two're most likely women. No more than a couple hours ago, some of them were at the water's edge. Can't tell for sure which direction they went – it's too messy – but they were traveling on the road."
Carol asked, "Do we try to find them? What if they saw Mika?"
He shook his head. "Ain't no way to know what kinda people they are, and I ain't in no shape to be gettin' in a fight if they're not the friendly type. Hell, even if we pick the right direction, we ain't gonna catch 'em since I'm so fuckin' slow."
She hesitated, desperate to follow this new possibility, but recognizing the futility. She nodded tightly and shifted his crossbow on her shoulder. "Come on, then. Let's go back."
The return trip was going to take them even longer than it had to get here since it was uphill the whole way. Granted it wasn't steep, but it made for a taxing hike when he was already so tired and sore. As they walked, Carol would occasionally reach out, brushing his arm or touching the small of his back as he stepped over rugged or unstable areas. The touches became more frequent as the hours dragged by, each one sending a tiny spark through him, easing the fatigue and soothing the pain in his ribs. When she reached again to touch his arm, he caught her hand in his and held it. He saw her glance up at him, but she didn't pull her hand away.
The day was fading by the time they reached their campsite, hungry and exhausted. They both gulped down water, then Carol worked to start a small fire while he rifled through their bags for any food they might have left. After they'd eaten, she went to the water's edge to gather a pan full of water to put over the fire to boil. Their supply of bottled water was nearly gone. She turned to him once it was heating.
"Let me look at your ribs," she said.
Sighing, he pulled at his vest, working it carefully from his shoulders. Once it was clear he would allow her to look, she knelt next to him to help ease him out of the leather, stiff from the soaking in the river. After the vest was off, he paused at the prospect of taking off his shirt, nerves rippling through his belly. He started to unbutton it and winced at the discomfort of holding himself upright.
She put a hand on his, stilling them. "Stop. Let me."
Nodding, he leaned back on his hands again, taking the pressure off his ribs. She started with the top button, undoing it carefully, tugging gently at the material without touching him. It registered suddenly that she was undressing him. It felt strange and extremely intimate somehow, even though it was just so she could check on his injury. As her fingers slid down to the second button, he realized she was nervous, too – there was a tremor in her hands. Her face was intense in her concentration, as though buttons had become an elaborate puzzle to be solved. She kept her eyes on his shirt, not letting her gaze meet his. As she worked the third one free, her finger brushed ever so briefly against the skin high on his belly. He sucked in a quick breath at the sensation, closing his eyes. Every nerve was extra sensitive, feeling the fabric move across his skin in minute detail, and her touch might as well have been a live wire. He held back a groan. His scalp tingled and his dick hardened, all from the accidental touch of one fingertip.
After she unfastened the final button, working all too near his aroused cock, she slipped her hands inside his shirt, sliding it over his shoulders. He shuddered as her fingers skimmed over his chest.
"Lie down on your side." Her voice was low and liquid, barely louder than a whisper.
He shook his hands free from the shirt as he arranged himself on his side, exposing his injured ribs to her scrutiny.
"I'll need to touch you. It's going to hurt," she warned.
His mouth was dry, so he swallowed and nodded. Despite his best efforts not to, he flinched when she put her hands on him. She worked quickly and efficiently, checking his ribs. It hurt like a motherfucker, but he tried to stay quiet and still for her. He distracted himself from the pain by focusing on how good her touch would feel if he weren't hurt.
After forever, she let her hand rest on his hip and sat back a bit. "I'm far from an expert, but I don't feel anything badly broken. Could be cracked, and you're definitely bruised. Stay here and don't move for a minute. I'm going to the river's edge – I'll be right back."
With his head pillowed on his arm, he watched her walk away. In spite of his sore ribs and his blood still humming with arousal, now that he was lying down, exhaustion pulled at him. He must have dozed off because Carol's hand on his shoulder startled him, and she was kneeling right in front of him.
"This should help a little." She held out a big handful of green gunk.
"What is it?" he asked.
"Comfrey leaf poultice. Supposed to help with bruising and inflammation." She raised her eyebrows, seeking permission to apply it.
"Okay," he said, bracing himself again for his body's response to her touch.
Very gently, she placed the handful of pulp on his side where the worst of the bruising was, packing it carefully against his skin. Once it was in place, she didn't pull her hand away, instead letting her fingers smooth around the edges of the poultice, traveling out over the discoloration that peeked from underneath. His heart beat madly in his chest, and he wondered if she could feel it. She could certainly see his crazy breathing, but she might attribute that to pain.
"You should keep it on there as long as you can. We can get more in the morning."
Her fingers stopped their delicate tracing, and she put her hand flat on his side, just below the bruises. Her palm seared its impression into his skin like a branding iron. "Thank you."
He frowned a bit. "For what?"
She tipped her head as she looked down at him. "For trying to save Mika. For being crazy enough to almost get yourself killed – again – to help a little girl." Her hand left his side to brush the hair from his eyes. "For being who you are."
Shifting uncomfortably, he grumbled, "I ain't nobody. Wasn't thinkin' about it, I just did it."
"Exactly." She smiled. "It's just who you are."
He wasn't sure what to say to that, so he kept his mouth shut. They both fell quiet. After a while, she drew her knees up to her chest and folded her arms across them. Resting her chin on her arms, she stared across into the fire.
"Do you think Mika's dead? She's probably dead, isn't she?" she asked softly.
"Dunno," he said honestly.
"If she made it out of the river, she'd be exhausted, hungry, hurt." She paused, her face very still. "It's Sophia all over again."
Waving a beckoning hand, he said, "C'mere. Come down here with me."
"I need to watch..."
"Just for a minute."
"Your ribs..."
"Just get your ass down here."
She stretched out next to him without touching, apparently afraid of hurting him. He pulled her closer, turning her to snug her back up to his chest so he could wrap his arm around her waist and murmur into her ear.
"Life can be pretty shit since the Turn, but we'll get through the shitty parts together, no matter what happens. I dunno if Mika's still alive. She might be dead, it's true. But she had her knife, and you taught her how to protect herself. If she's out there still, she knows what to do. But whether she's alive or not, for the time she was with you, she was loved and cared for, which is more'n a lot of people ever got even before the walkers came."
She laced her fingers with his and squeezed hard. He could feel her hitch against him as she cried again for her lost girl.
"All three of your girls had the best mama they could have. They loved you as much as you love them. They were lucky girls, all of 'em."
Very carefully, she turned around to face him. For a moment, she just looked at him. Then she put a hand to his cheek and pressed her lips to his. The electric jolt he'd felt at her touch before happened again, sending a shockwave through him. He pulled her tight against his chest to deepen the kiss, opening to her, trusting that she would understand in his actions what he could never put into words. She whimpered once, softly, and returned his kiss along with the meaning behind it. Sliding his hand down to her hip, he brought her flush against him, even though he knew he shouldn't. That he wouldn't be able to make good on the promise.
She broke the kiss with a gasp, rolling her hips into his, grinding against his cock that strained against the denim of his jeans. "Daryl..."
"I know. Not now."
"Soon," she said, almost a question.
"Soon."
She brushed a thumb over his cheek. "I love you," she whispered.
A corner of his mouth lifted in a smile. "Love you."
Easing herself away from him, she sat up again. "You sleep. I'll watch."
"Wake me up when you need to. I can sit against a tree."
"Okay," she said, though he could tell she had no intention of waking him. She repositioned the pulped leaves on his side before stepping away to get settled in to watch the trees.
He kept his eyes open as long as he could just to see her looking soft and warm in the firelight. But it wasn't long before sleep claimed him again. His body was spent.
He woke on his own the next morning to see Carol boiling up some more water for them. There was another pile of leaf mulch on a cloth and a handful of berries on the blanket right in front of him, so he reached for them. His movement caught her eye, and she smiled softly.
"Morning. I didn't go far – that's all I could find nearby."
"You eat some?" he asked as he popped a berry in his mouth. The tart flavor burst over his tongue, and he sighed in pleasure. It felt like days since they'd had any real food.
"Yeah, those are for you."
He cautiously pushed himself up to sitting and peered down to see how his ribs looked. Unsurprisingly, they looked like he'd pinballed between boulders yesterday. He gave them an experimental poke and hissed as he discovered they still felt as terrible as they looked.
"It's going to be a few days before the pain eases up, and you'll still be sore for another few weeks. We can rest here until the worst of it passes."
"Hell no. We gotta move at least enough to find some food. A handful of berries ain't gonna last us long."
She scowled at him over the steaming pot on the fire. "We will stay here at least a day or two. You need to rest or you won't heal. Now that you're awake, I'm going to catch a little sleep, then go out to see what I can find for food. And you will sit still and get better."
He scowled back, but didn't argue. The last thing he wanted was a repeat of yesterday's endless hike. Antsy and hungry as he would be, staying put was preferable.
After pulling the boiling water from the fire, she curled up on the blanket and fell asleep. He hauled himself up and walked far enough to take a piss, then came back to kneel at the edge of the blanket with his knife. He cut a strip from the narrow end of it as a makeshift bandage. Scooping up the comfrey pulp she'd left for him, he pressed it into his side and tied the strip of blanket around it to hold it in place. Then he gingerly put his shirt and vest back on over it and sat propped up against the same tree he'd been leaning on when he saw the fox the other night.
It felt like forever he sat watching the bushes and listening to the water. He guessed it was after noon by the time Carol woke, scrubbing her eyes with her knuckles.
"I'm going to go look for something to eat. I won't go far, but since you're awake, it'll be farther than I went this morning. I won't be gone more than half an hour," she told him.
"I don't like you going out there alone. Ain't gonna be much to find anyway."
"Well, not much is better than none. And I'll be fine – I'll keep my knife in hand the whole time and my gun's fully loaded." She crouched next to him so she wasn't literally talking down to him.
He sulked, but knew there was no way he could stop her even if he really wanted to. "If you walk along the river and find a stream or slow eddy, you might find watercress."
"Thanks, I'll do that," she said with a hint of a smile.
They both froze in an instant when they heard something coming from down the tracks. Their camp was in the trees a little way, but not so far that they would automatically be safe from passing eyes. And whoever was coming was definitely alive, as they could hear the soft murmur of voices.
Carol held a hand out to Daryl so he could get to his feet quietly. She pulled her revolver and he stood with his crossbow ready to fire. They waited, hoping they wouldn't be spotted.
The sounds came closer, and there was movement in the underbrush. "Over here? You sure?" A man's voice cut clearly through to them. He was close.
"I'm positive!"
The shock of recognition left him breathless. He didn't dare believe what he heard.
A figure pushed through the trees – a large red-haired man carrying Mika in one arm as though she weighed nothing.
"Oh my god," Carol whispered next to him.
Mika looked up and her face lit up like Christmas. "Carol!" The big man put her down when she pushed at him. She ran awkwardly but quickly to Carol who had dropped the weapons in her hands, fell to her knees, and opened her arms.
"Oh, Mika! Baby girl, we thought we lost you!" She swept the girl up and hugged her tight. "How? How are you here? Are you okay?"
Though relieved and grateful Mika had been returned to them, he was more wary of the heavily armed man still standing in front of them. He didn't lower his crossbow completely. "Who're you?"
The man didn't seem intimidated in the slightest. He raised his chin and shifted his assault rifle to rest against his shoulder. "Name's Abraham. Abraham Ford. We've been looking for you."