AN: another chapter :) back at work after vacation. I'll update when I can :) let me know what you think
I do not own or profit from The Walking Dead
Chapter 11
Carol sat slumped over her microscope, a light snore filtering from her lips. She looked like she had been asleep for awhile as Daryl stood in the doorway watching her. He hadn't seen her in two days and that was a quick hello in the hallway as she had blushed fiercely and headed back into her lab.
He'd been spending all his time with his momma. Talking reminiscing, hell just staving off the boredom. He spent most of the time reading up on all the history he'd missed, he grimaced in embarrassment at how suspicious he'd been of Carol initially thinking she was a Russian spy.
Carol, his momma had told was working obssesively in her lab, trying to synthesize a vaccine from his blood. It wasn't as easy as he'd assumed it would be and Carol was the chief egghead in charge of eggheads. She wanted to save...everyone.
His momma told him stories, about the turn, and how the world fell apart. It was hard to imagine, especially at his momma's age. Carol had saved her she told him,took her under her wing. Carol was ten years older than his mom although now they were the same age thanks to his momma's trip to the past. She was the sister she never had.
It was a little weird to consider Carol was responsible for his existence.
He missed her. Somehow those first few days he'd bonded with her, his momma was having dinner with Peter Walsh tonight. She had invited him to come along but he declined and he'd come in search of Carol. Determined to spend some time with her. He'd just been hoping she would be awake at the time.
Stepping lightly into the lab, he went to her at the table, tipped her slightly backwards and lifted her into his arms. She murmured in her sleep, curling into his arms and chest with a sigh.
He wasn't sure where her room was so he started heading towards his own. Sitting her on the bed when he arrived.
He sat her up as best he could and shrugged the white lab coat off of her shoulders then laid her down in his bed, removing her boots.
She rolled to her side and he could see, scars all across her shoulders and back, underneath the tank top she wore. He stood there for a long time, the pad of his thumb tracing them lightly. Her back was to him, and he didn't even realize that she had woken. Her voice was a coarse whisper when he spoke.
"Violet and I were alone for awhile, after the turn, ...people became just as dangerous. We were captured by a very dangerous group, The Saviours they called themselves."
He squeezed her shoulder when she spoke.
"The saviours were lead by a man named Neagan. He...he was a bad man. When he realized that...that I was smart he saw potential in what I could do for him. he used Violet against me when we tried to escape and gave me those scars for my trouble. I slit his throat in his sleep. I killed almost all his lieutenants that night to get to him. I never ...I had to kill Walkers before but never people who were alive." She said without turning over.
His heart about twisted in his chest at the pain in her voice. Leaning down he pressed a kiss to the shoulder he was rubbing and he felt her shiver.
"When I was in Nam, you had to kill, kill to stay alive. Doesn't mean you enjoyed it. Just the way it was. It was either them or you. You're between a rock and a hard place and you gotta do what you gotta do. Not because of the government, but because the guys, in your unit are depending on you and would do the same for you. Kinda like you and momma I would say. Kinda like the way the world is now I guess...at war." Both his hands were rubbing her neck now as trails of gooseflesh streaked across her skin.
"Things aren't all bad now. I appreciate what I have more than ever, those I love." She murmured with a sigh as he continued needing her shoulders with her thumbs. The strap of her tank top had slid down her shoulder, he could see a small tattoo there. He ran his thumb over a small Cherokee rose.
"My little sister, Sophia. She died before the turn, when I was young. She had muscular dystrophy. She could not fight off a terrible case of pneumonia...she loved the story of The Trail of Tears and The Cherokee Rose. She would say she hoped one would bloom for her, when she passed away." She said softly he saw her wipes tear away.
He slid into bed behind her, wrapping his arm around her waist.
"My momma used to tell me that story." He said burying his face in her neck.
Carol smiled interlacing his fingers with hers. "I told it to her."