Sorry for yet another long delay! Here's some more angst. I really hope you guys like angst.
The green had given way to brown, the field spread wide and cloaked in wintery death.
The hay bales had fallen apart with time, sinking and rotting, adding to the dull tone of the already depressing scene.
A lone building stood erect in the middle of the vast opening, once a home to the hay that would serve farmers and ranchers that lived nearby, now a dark and lonely reminder of a world that no longer supported such agricultural systems.
Instead, it would shield desperate travelers from the rain and wind.
It would stand witness as they came together.
And as they fell apart.
"Ya gotta keep straight. Take yer time to aim, but not so long that yer arms get tired and give way. That's the problem, I think."
Carol struggled to listen to what Daryl was telling her, tried to block out the way his breath ghosting across her cheek sent shills down her spine and bumps rising on her arms.
Tried to tell herself it was the cold breeze blowing across the field, and that Daryl was trying to teach her something, and she should damn well pay attention.
They stood together in the middle of the field, using an old wooden fence to help her perfect her aim.
An hour ago it had finally stopped raining, the sun came out as midday approached and Daryl had scarfed down his lunch quickly and seemed to watch her intently as she did the same, before he led her out away from the others to continue the shooting practice he'd started with her a few short weeks ago…
Before the herd.
Before he'd been infected.
She'd started out propping herself against the fence, shooting at the remnants of a hay bale. Her aim was just fine with the wooden support under her arms, deadly enough for Daryl's satisfaction.
So he'd moved her back, away from the fence, to stand in the middle and shoot at the wood instead.
She was struggling.
Her arms had gained a bit of muscle from necessary lifting since the End began, but she wasn't used to the strain of holding a heavy rifle for long periods of time. But she tried. She toted the damn thing around with her as often as Rick would allow, as she seemed to be sharing her gun with the likes of T-Dog, Hershel and sometimes Shane.
"Ya listening?"
Another hot puff against her ear sent Carol jumping slightly, and she became suddenly aware of warm fingers clenching in response on her body. One of Daryl's hands had found its way to her shoulder, pulling it back a bit as the other slipped beneath her arm to help support the weight of the gun.
Blinking to the side at him, she nodded.
"Yeah, I heard you. Keep straight. Don't linger on the aim too long."
Steel-colored eyes seemed to crease and then soften as he stared at her, and another breeze blew across the field to send a shudder through her body.
His hands tightened again, and he drew closer, coming to stand behind her and he exhaled heavily against her neck,
"See if you can hit the top of the post there. Take a breath first. Relax."
Carol ignored the urge to sink back into his chest and straightened instead, encouraged by his hands supporting her. His hand brushed hers as he seemed to lift and hold the gun with her, and she aimed at the point he'd indicated, the top edge of one of the fence's supportive posts. She breathed, deep, steady, and felt his chest rise and fall almost in rhythm with her own.
She exhaled.
Inhaled.
And Daryl let go as she pulled on the trigger.
The gun kicked a bit into her shoulder, furthering the bruise she would probably suffer later, but she pushed the ache away and focused on the hole in the post with a smile.
Daryl stepped into her field of view, peering at her approvingly.
"Better. Now try again without my help…"
He trailed, eyes moving slowly to the side as he seemed to follow something behind her. They narrowed, his lips tightened, his body went rigid, and for a moment, Carol worried he'd drop to the ground and start convulsing.
"Hey!"
The shout that sounded behind had her whirling to find Shane stomping their way from the old hay loft they'd holed up in for the day, shotgun in hand and a nasty glare in his eye.
She sighed as she caught Rick slowly stepping from the darkness of the building, suddenly alert, his head shaking as he began following Shane's steps to catch up to him.
But it was too late.
Daryl was already squaring his shoulders, stepping in front of her with a snarl on his lips.
Shane threw a hand into the air as he approached, gesturing to the fence while jerking his head her way,
"Ya'll been out here for an hour shootin' away at nothing, wastin' ammo and puttin' us all in danger, including yourselves—"
"Ain't yer business, but I rationed out the rounds and Rick helped me do it…"
Carol watched, alert and ready to intervene, as Shane shook his head and glanced back at Rick's figure moving through the grass towards them,
"We don't ration rounds for practice. Not right now. Maybe you've been too busy fallin' in and out of a Walker coma, but we got herds on our asses almost every day, and we need every bullet we got."
Daryl stepped forward as Shane refocused on her,
"You wanna fight, Carol, and that's fine, we can sure use the help, but ya either stick to a handgun or keep to a machete, okay?"
Daryl's shoulders seemed to ripple with energy as he followed Shane's moving body, and she calmly reached out to still him as she rebutted,
"I've already practiced a bit with the pistol today. I really need to get the rifle down, and we're about done."
Shane blinked darkly at her, a wicked smile quirking in his lips.
He shook his head at her, raised a hand to motion at the gun in her hands,
"Look, lemme tell you—"
Daryl lashed forward as Shane stepped close, reaching out to shove at the man's shoulder,
"Ya ain't tellin' her shit, now back off!"
Carol sighed in exasperation as the two men suddenly lit up and flew into each other's faces, just as Rick stepped into the fray to shove them apart.
"Enough! Okay, just calm down!"
The moment Rick's voice sounded between them Shane seemed to redirect his anger, turning on his so-called "best friend" in a heartbeat.
His ever-animated hand flew into the air again, this time towards Daryl as the man began to laugh sarcastically,
"Man, look at you! Ya seriously gonna stand here and tell me it's a good idea to let an infected, half-dead geek give Carol here shooting lessons? Just let em' stand out here and waste precious ammo, run the risk of bringin' another herd on top of us, just so you can make Daryl feel like he's still human?"
Carol reached out again to grasp Daryl's arms from the behind, felt the muscles beneath her palms coiling as his hands fisted. She tightened her grip, and his icy eyes met hers as he turned his head to look back at her.
Shane jerked away as Rick moved to direct him back towards the loft, shotgun rising into the air along with his free hand,
"It's a joke, Rick. Lettin' him run free in our camp. Lettin' him put us all in danger. And it's on you when something goes down."
Daryl didn't move as the man's black eyes landed on him before he turned and stomped away, but Carol could still feel his entire body screaming silently in her grasp.
As Rick glanced their way, a desperate irritation in his gaze, he and Daryl exchanged curt nods before their leader broke back out into the field to follow his enraged friend.
She stood in the grass and kept hold of Daryl as he continued to heave in breaths, every shaky exhale coming out longer and calmer. The weight of the rifle now hanging on her back was lost as she watched him duck his head slowly, bringing a hand up to slide across his forehead.
His fingers paused to rub into his temples.
When he moved to look back at her again, the grey in his eyes seemed duller than ever.