Hey, everyone!
Another chapter written in stations, trains, airports, planes blah blah blah :) It was the way back this time!
Hopefully, most of you have already found a PM full of gratitude in your inbox. And there are more to come!
Seriously, thank you all again :)
This chapter is particularly dear to me… I hope you like it too!
The Walking Dead belong to Robert Kirkman and AMC. No copyright infringement intended.
Enjoy!
"Only one," she insisted pleadingly, lips pressed in a firm line, blue eyes wide.
Daryl snorted and shook his head derisively, his narrowed eyes darting outside the living room window, restless, meticulously exploring their surroundings for lurking threats; herds sprouted up out of nowhere lately, active and gory, let alone the uncharted territory random encounters with other survivor groups constituted.
It was the very first time they were on a run alone since he had returned in prison with Merle on his tail. He didn't want to take her with him. Whatever it was that activated them, walkers seemed more dangerous than ever. She was safer, no, safe behind the solid walls of the prison. And that's exactly where he wanted her to be. He had this strange feeling of his heart beating more steadily when she was inside the fence. That's why he was no less stunned than everyone else when he heard a rasped voice he recognized as his own asking her if she wanted to join him. Her mouth had dropped open at the sound of her name and the only reaction she managed to force was a quick nod.
He had stubbornly clenched his jaw to avoid admitting it, but it was true he hated how things were between them. Something was broken and, although he initially thought things would finally get back to normal, reality had proven him wrong. Carol had kept her distance, withdrawing in her shell, broadening the gap between them day by day, always kind and friendly but closed off at the same time. Only with him, she was perfectly herself with everyone else. Watch duties where longer without her company, lunch breaks boring and lonely, his cell colder during the nights without their hushed conversations, sleep had started evading him. He was grumpier and more peevish than usual, throwing uncalled for tempers at whoever picked the wrong moment to pass him by. He kept telling himself he didn't owe her any apologies, he had come back and that should have been enough, but at that point he was just wondering if the mere repetition wasn't enough for either of them to be convinced.
Deep down he knew he had screwed things, but he would never admit anything. Their relationship had always been complicated. Natural but complicated. Flirty friendship, Glenn had called it once and despite his scorn –Dixons didn't do flirting- something in that rang true. Thing was, while they were on the run he had no time for such a luxury as to contemplate on his relationship with the others and he specifically avoided any thoughts about her like hell. Day to day survival, and her survival, demanded his full attention and he had managed to shut every distracting thought out and keep them, and her, alive. That was until they found the prison and they had both a minimum sense of security and some free time, when he started suspecting that her taunting might not be just a joke and that the knot in the stomach he had been carrying around for a while when she was close wasn't just hunger and fear for walkers. He was shocked when it dawned on him that he always thought about her separately; in his mind, it was never the group. It was Carol and the group. Carol and the group had to survive, Carol and the group had to be fed, Carol and the group needed a shelter. Carol and then everyone else. Carol first.
When she got lost and was presumed dead, he was slapped in the face, something inside him shattered in a million pieces. Sure he kept putting one foot in front of the other, surviving, making calls, taking over Rick's role since their leader seemed completely off, but it was like he had the autopilot on. Everything was registered through a haze, like someone else possessed his body and it kept moving despite his will. All he wanted was to scream at the world and knock down a wall and then crumple up on the corner and sob in grief, rocking back and forth. But he had remained calm. This lasted two days before his ostensible strength and self composure started quivering and he had finally snapped in the tombs, having the closest thing he had ever experienced to a breakdown, holding on to her knife. And then his luck sky rocketed and he found her alive… But it was in the moments before that that he had made a decision; he didn't like what he felt about her; he hated the power she had over him; if he was granted a second chance to have her alive, all breathing and smiling, around them, he would never let himself get so addicted to her warm presence again. And right after that, he found her. And the deal was sealed. Keep her alive, keep your distance. Plain as daylight.
And now, inside the house they were scavenging for supplies, the damn woman wanted to listen to music. Her face beamed like a shining star when she discovered a battery-powered cd player and a huge collection of cds reeled off scrupulously in alphabetical order. His heart had skipped a beat at the sound of a muffled squeal and he'd rushed into the living room, cussing himself for bringing her there, crossbow raised to eliminate the threat, only to find her clasping her hands together and grinning ear to ear.
He had left her. He had left them, actually; she had no right to feel this was personal. But she had felt abandoned, right or not. And it was as personal as it gets. She understood, of course she did. If there was one person left in the world able to fully grasp the complex relationship between the Dixon brothers and the overall situation, it would be safe to assume that this person was her. But still, something just didn't sit well in her gut, even when he came back, even when she told him how glad she was for this new decision, even when she comforted him for his brother's loss. It's not like she could be any much more in love with him. Given her feelings for Daryl had consumed completely every living cell of her body, there shouldn't be more room left for further development. But something still bothered her, jolting her stomach, twisting her heart every time she tried to behave normally around him, something she could neither interpret nor decipher at all. If she understood his reasons, though, why did she feel so numb towards him?
And then, right there and right at that moment, while reading the songs titles, it hit her. It hit her and she acknowledged it beyond any doubt that … It was easy. He left like it was nothing. Like he was just going hunting. He left her easily. Didn't hesitate, didn't even blink, didn't think of honoring her with a goodbye or, at least, use someone else as a messenger. He turned his back and walked away. Like she was nothing. She was nothing. Not that he didn't care, of course he did, he cared for each one of them; that was the main reason he came back. He just didn't care for her more. She wasn't special to him. He had left her. And it was easy. Easy.
"Keep it low," he grumbled.
She approached him slowly and reached out a hand to help him up so he could join her for a dance, gazing him tentatively but intensely.
"Leave me alone," he growled, stubbornly keeping his eyes to the opposite direction.
Carol didn't waver, her delicate, pale fingers spread out, longing for his touch.
"This is bullshit!" he hissed and finally whirled to face her, angry flames kindling in his blue eyes. "You're gonna get us killed."
She didn't flinch at the way he snapped at her, steadily holding his frowned expression, hand still anticipating.
"What's your problem?" he growled again, ready to run for the hills. He would have, literally, but something flickering inside her eyes stopped him. She was neither flirting nor teasing him; not as much as a faint smile rippled her dead serious expression. A sudden sting of fear squeezed his chest.
She shrugged. "It's just a dance, Daryl. Can't kill you."
Yeah… He wasn't so sure about that.
"No." His voice gruff, but softer than before.
"Please…" she said feebly, looking clearly in distress.
He eyed her warily, something was wrong. "Dunno how," he avowed begrudgingly.
"I'll show you. It's nothing." She curled her palm around his fingers and dragged him closer to the cd player, leading the way.
Carol squared her shoulders, standing only inches away from his face. She took his hands slowly and put them on her hips, not wanting to make him hug her around the waist and scare him away with too much intimacy and closeness. She then snaked her left arm behind his nape, pressed the play button and placed her right hand just above his chest, instantly aware of his throbbing heart and the recoiling nerves beneath his skin. Daryl had trouble focusing, mesmerized by the softness of her touch. He blinked again and again to shove away the dizziness.
She didn't have any strength to fight for him anymore; drained of courage and deprived of confidence after the way he had left her in the first place, the only feeling towering inside her was a devastating sense of exhaustion accompanied with the repellent taste of bitterness in her dry mouth. She was done. Through. Over. If he wanted her, he would have done something about it, he wouldn't sabotage the prospect at least. Not leaving in the first place. Apologizing, explaining later. Anything. Even kiss her right now.
She had no idea why she had dragged him to this dance he obviously loathed. Maybe it was that need again to feel him. To feel him. Maybe she even thought it might be the proper moment and circumstance for a stolen kiss. Only she couldn't bring herself to do it anymore. He had rejected her in every possible way. He didn't consider her worthy of a farewell or a clarification. Why did she keep refuting the facts? Why did she keep repeating herself like a gospel that there was something in the air between them, a twinkle in his pupils when he looked at her, a lingering of his gaze each time he spotted her, a brittle twitch of his lips sacredly saved only for her? There was nothing. She imagined things. Her mind had been tricking her ruthlessly. He felt nothing. She was just another member of the group to him.
Maybe this dance was her unspoken goodbye. She had lived a love story in silence and decency for so long now; a love story made of fairytale stardust, with butterflies in the stomach and fireworks in the sky; a love story in which every warm look, every crooked smile, every touch lightened up the surrounding hell till this doomed world was bright and sunny like heaven; a love story that dealt with fear, separation, death, loss, grief and bereavement almost daily; a love story so breathtaking, intense, profound and meaningful she still wondered how her heart hadn't exploded at some point; a love story that thrived, bloomed and withered inside her; a love story that was not reciprocated and ripped her apart. She had lived a love story alone. And it was time she put it to rest.
"It will be over before you know it," she muttered. Her lips quirked upwards but nothing reached her eyes.
When the music started, he inhaled a lungful of air and held it. Carol swayed gracefully in his arms, bending her waistband, enticing him along into an ever light swing, barely moving. In vain he searched her gaze for guidance, her eyes remained downcast and in the haze of the moment he wondered if it was on purpose. His breath grew heavy, her proximity and the sweetness radiating off her presence awakening sensations he didn't know were hibernating beneath his skin.
So many nights, I'd sit by my window,
Waiting for someone to sing me his song.
He knew this song. He had a crystal clear memory of his mother, standing in front of a window with one of her favorite Virginia slims between her fingers and a black eye, staring at him with a half smile across her lips identical to his; the song playing in the background. But he had this gut wrenching feeling their situations where quite different. His mother was waiting for something to change, hoping the black eye marring her face would be the last. He felt like he had somehow crossed the finish line, not waiting anymore, having someone to sing him her song. Carol.
She had been waiting all her life for him, her one true match, her prince, her other half, the one, whatever the right word was. When she was young she dreamed of him. When she married Ed she thought he was him. When she finally found him it took her a while to realize it was truly him due to his misleading shell, but once she did, she decided to wait for him for as long as it took. It was only now that she forced herself to admit that it might never have been a matter of time, but simply a matter of will. He didn't want her.
So many dreams, I kept deep inside me,
Alone in the dark, now you've come along.
Carol had come along, loneliness was shoved away. He could never confess this loudly into her face, but she was the one to turn on the switch and shed light in the bleak darkness of his dreams. Her eyes were the illuminated lighthouse guiding him.
And you light up my life,
You give me hope, to carry on.
Who was he kidding? Hiding behind his superb physical stamina, he played her protector and savior, but it was actually her who had saved him in every possible way. He was nothing when their paths crossed. Nothing more than an ill-mannered redneck. But she saw a man of honor, every bit as good as the rest of them and she insisted so much, he actually believed it and spent his days struggling to become the man she thought he was. He had never dared to ask himself why he even bothered to be that man, but now he couldn't fight it anymore. The answer was right there, mocking at him; he wanted to be worthy of her.
You light up my days
And fill my nights with song.
Who was he kidding? He had come back for her. Maybe he would have anyway for the rest of the group eventually, but she was the catalyst that triggered his return after only a couple of days he and Merle spent fending for themselves in the woods. Because the first night he almost felt like a little boy lost in the woods, afraid of the pitch black that engulfed him, left to wonder where the dauntless hunter was buried. He had stayed awake all night long, fearing that somewhere far away, she was doing the same, scared of the dark. He had come back because he was worried sick about her, to the point his heart was beating erratically and his breaths failed to fill his lungs with oxygen.
Rollin' at sea, adrift on the waters
Could it be finally, I'm turning for home
Who was he kidding? She was the reason he hadn't gone back to prison to say goodbye. Because how the fuck was he supposed to say goodbye to her? She would never let go without a fight, she would have probably cried and hugged him and begged him to stay. And he? What was he supposed to do? How would he disentangle himself from her grip? Why would he do the last thing he wanted to do in this world?
Carol never glanced at him, too broken to meet his eyes without stripping the raw pain of her heart. She kept hers sealed the whole time, fighting back tears and swallowing the lump in her throat. It was her last chance to greedily inhale his earthy scent; she wouldn't ruin it with the choking sobs that threatened to consume her.
Finally a chance to say, "Hey, I Love You"
Never again to be all alone.
Who was he kidding? He had left because of her. He saw a way out with Merle, grabbed it and held on to it like it was a lifeline. He knew there was something powerful brewing between them. He also knew whatever it was it meant approaching a slippery slope, leading gradually but inexorably to disaster. And it scared the shit out of him, feeling that his life depended on her. He could have fought harder about his brother joining their group, impose his presence to everyone no matter what, just like he finally did, but he hadn't even tried. He chickened out and refused to spend a sheer thought to her, just turned his back and left. Because he was afraid she really loved him. And he was petrified he might actually love her back, with a fire that could burn them inside out. But now he knew… And he realized it was of paramount importance to let her know as well.
And you light up my life,
You give me hope, to carry on.
You light up my days
And fill my nights with song.
He fisted his fingers at the hem of her shirt and shuffled closer, her hand on his heart now crashed between their connected chests. The fuzz of his whiskers brushing across her pale skin less than half an inch over the corner of her mouth sent his eyes rolling and he almost slumped on the wooden floor. He had to forcefully will his knees to support his weight and command his brain to suck oxygen in his lungs, consumed by dizziness and darkness, lightheaded, feeling he was floating in the air, feet no more touching the ground, sure her palm was imprinting a third degree burn until his flesh ripped open and his frantically throbbing heart jumped out to spare him from the torture with a quick death.
Only he didn't want to die; he actually cared about his life for the first time since he could remember himself. He wasn't just minding his survival; he really, really, really cared about his life. In this all enveloping numbness, he felt hot blood rushing through his veins, vivid and pulsating. He was alive, blind from desire but more alive than ever. A creeping suspicion that this wasn't the zenith, that there was still enough leeway for the ecstasy to overpower them, made him release a low moan. He could feel even more alive. If only he leaned a bit more, or bowed his head. A fraction of an inch would suffice. What the fuck was happening to him? Taking in the scent radiating off her, chin almost trembling. He didn't just have trouble staying alert; he found it impossible to breathe. Why wouldn't she tilt her head to meet him? Why did she keep her eyes shut? His eyes were digging holes in her face, his nose rubbing the grey tips of her hair. He craved her lips. A kiss was the answer to all their questions.
You, You light up my life
You give me hope to carry on
You light up my days
And fill my nights with song
Oh, God, why did he do that to her? He was so oblivious to her feelings, he, with the acute hunter senses, didn't realize that his lips were almost tracing her face, barely not touching her aroused skin, that his hot, rasped breaths were burning her sanity, that the shaky air escaping her mouth was probably tickling his chin. All he had to do was bow his head a hint and his mouth would effortlessly cover hers. He was so oblivious he didn't realize that every now and then she had to curl her fingers around the collar of his shirt to steady herself, because the warmth of his body made the room spin and her knees quiver from yearning.
Or maybe he wasn't oblivious at all and just felt sorry for her and her one sided love. Bur she didn't want his pity. Love or not love, they were equal. She had earned this much, her place in the group. They could still be friends and companions. She would overcome her sorrow and find the courage to lock eyes with him again in the future. She would bury her love deep inside her and live in his shadow. And she would never embarrass him with her feelings again, never invoke any kind of sexual tension between them. She would respect his desire.
It can't be wrong, when it feels so right
Cause you, you light up my life
It didn't just feel right, Carol in his arms. It felt natural, almost irrevocable, and definitely essential for his heart to keep beating. It also felt incomplete, because her lips were not where they were supposed to be, glued on his.
He tried to control his breathing and leaned forward to kiss her, the moment her arm yanked to press the stop before the music was over and she turned her face away from him, releasing herself from the embrace.
"Thank you," she mumbled, her voice hoarse, eyes never drifting on him.
Before he had the chance to overcome the shock and react, she was gathering their supplies, heading for the truck outside.
This time he was the one left behind, gasping for air as if he was punched in the stomach, with empty arms, watching her back straying away from him, thinking he would drop dead from love and desire. Now he knew how she had felt.
Ugh…
For some reason I haven't yet figured, it was one of the hardest chapters to write and took me forever. Maybe it was that I tried to tell this story from two points of view at the same time and nothing seemed right :)
I know it was heartbreaking, but I hope you liked it anyway!
There is a point in all this, I promise! It might take 2-3 stories more to find out, but I really have something specific in mind!
And wish me luck, I need as much as I can get this week.
I'll try to update as soon as possible :)
Thank you for reading :) Your review would mean the world to me :)
8