Dire: very bad: causing great fear or worry; warning of disaster; showing a very bad future; requiring immediate action; very urgent
Straits: limited as to means or resources (Merriam-Webster's Dictionary)
Dire Straits
I get so tired when I have to explain
When you're so far away from me
See you been in the sun and I've been in the rain
And you're so far away from me
So far away from me
So far I just can't see
So far away from me
You're so far away from me
-Dire Straits, "So Far Away From Me", 1985
The fall rains made everything they were doing take twice as long. Coming home every night, exhausted, dirty, wet and cold had tempers short. People were sniping at each other over silly things; little annoyances blew up into arguments and then to blows; at work their tools and weapons became slick and harder to handle.
Carol constantly found her preparatory work at the medical clinic interrupted with one minor emergency after another.
"What is it this time?" Carol asked with world weariness as the door to the clinic burst open, blowing in the cold and rain and a few autumn leaves.
She turned to find Sam, looking like a drowned puppy, clutching Daryl's bow in his arms.
"They're coming." The boy yelled over the wind, his eyes huge and terrified, and then slid out of the way as two wet and staggering men blundered through behind him.
The red hair on the taller one gave him away as Abraham, and he was supporting someone dragging one leg. When the second man's head came up, Carol rushed forward, her heart in her throat. She pushed Abe away and supported Daryl instead; leading him to the table and making him sit.
"Close the door, kid!" Abe yelled and Sam complied, still holding tight to the crossbow. He leaned against the door, pale and shaking, watching the adults.
"What happened?" Carol asked, running her hands all over Daryl, kneeling to examine his blood soaked lower pant leg. Someone had tightened their belt around the leg under the knee to slow the blood flow.
"He ain't bit." Abe said quickly, knowing that would be her first thought.
"Stupid—" Daryl grimaced as she pulled out her trench knife and slit open the already torn muddy bloody khaki material over the wound, pulling it back and away. An already bruising gash was cut deep into his calf. She loosened the tourniquet and blood seeped out sluggishly, reassuring her that no major vessels had been severed.
"He slipped and fell—off the top of the bus—sliced open his leg on some aluminum sheeting." Abe explained, wiping his hand over his face and back through his wet hair, shaking it off like a hound. He looked over at the boy, who shrunk under his gaze. "Wouldn't have found him if the kid hadn't seen his bow layin' there."
"Rosita!" Carol called and the dark haired young woman appeared with a tray of medical equipment. Carol quickly cleaned her hands in antibacterial gel and as she worked to clean the wound site Rosita prepared an injection.
"Don' need that." Daryl growled.
"It's tetanus—you were scheduled for a booster anyhow—and antibiotics." Carol told him in a no nonsense tone, examining the deep cut to gauge how many stitches she would need to close it. "Don't worry; I won't waste any anesthetic on you." She looked up at Rosita and nodded.
Abe barked out a short laugh.
"Told him it was rainin' too hard to be up there—stubborn sum'bitch wouldn't listen." the big man told them, shaking his head at Daryl.
"An' when them mother fuckers blow a hole in the wall an' roll in here and make you watch as they carve a W in your woman's forehead?" Daryl snarled and then he gave an ugly low laugh, "But that's just foreplay—then they tie 'em to a tree and rape 'em an' leave them for the dead..."
Carol rocked back on her heels at the vehemence in his words. He'd already told her what he and Aaron had found out there, but hadn't shared the explicit details of it with anyone else but Deanna. The blonde tied to the tree had been the worst of it, reminding Daryl of his fears for what she and Beth might be suffering when they'd been separated.
It was also perilously close to her threat to Sam.
"Daryl..." Carol said sharply, looking over at the boy who had crept closer as they talked. Rosita swiped an alcohol prep pad across Daryl's bicep and plunged in a needle.
"We can't stop—can't even slow down or it'll be too late." Daryl said adamantly, his eyes losing focus,"Gotta ...gotta be ...be ready." he frowned, swaying backwards and then dropped like a stone onto the table, his head hitting the pillow Rosita quickly slid under it.
"You knocked him out?" Sam asked, raising an eyebrow. "Said you wouldn't."
"I lied." Carol said and the boy cocked his head at her curiously while Abe grunted out a chuckle.
"The cut is deeper than I thought," Carol explained, "I need him under while I stitch him up."
"Imma get back to it." Abe said, "Like the man said—gotta be ready."
"Take Sam home first." Carol ordered Abe over her shoulder, ignoring the child as she continued to prep the wound site, but then stopped and turned around to look right at Sam, adding softly, "Thank you for finding him."
Sam nodded, blinking his solemn eyes like a wise little owl, and then carefully laid down the crossbow on the exam table nearest him.
"Be careful." Rosita nodded at Abe and gave him an encouraging tight smile. Abe smiled back and nodded. She threw him a clean dry towel which he used to rub roughly over the boy's wet hair first and then on his own face and hands, getting off most of Daryl's blood, and then he slipped back out the door with Sam in tow.
"He's going to be pissed when he wakes up." Rosita said, looking down at Daryl, cleaning her hands again so she could administer the tetanus and antibiotic injections.
"I'll make it up to him." Carol said, sharing a small smile with Rosita and then picking up the suture kit while Daryl slept on.
"We're supposed to leave in the morning." Aaron said, agitated, but trying to keep his voice low as he stood in the infirmary looking down at Daryl's sleeping form.
"He's not going anywhere for at least two days." Carol told him, crossing her arms in front of her. "I'd like him to stay off it for a week, but he'd never stand for that."
As soon as he'd heard his recruiting partner had been injured, Aaron had rushed over to the Clinic, the first of several visitors, including Deanna and Rick.
"He's lucky—it could've been a lot worse." Carol had explained to all of them. "If we can hold off infection he should heal up fine. May have a bit of a limp for awhile."
"What was he doing up there?" Aaron asked, rubbing his hand over his face wearily, the worry for his friend and fear for what this injury could mean to their plans evident on his open face.
"What he's always been doing; whatever he has to do to keep us safe." Carol said quietly, moving to return to sit in the chair next to Daryl's bed.
"I have to." Daryl had said the night before as he fed Judith. Both Michonne and Rick had been on patrol, and Carl was over at Ron's; so the baby had been their charge for the evening.
Daryl had showered when he came in from working with Abe's crew for the day and had changed into the clean black t-shirt and jeans she'd left out for him, ignoring the white crew socks on top of the clothes pile to pad around barefoot instead, his boots by the door if he needed them.
"You're good with her." Carol watched him, noting how incongruous yet natural the rough man looked with the little girl, wondered again at his ease with her. She'd never asked him about it, back at the prison, and after Woodbury joined them, with so many other willing arms to hold the baby, while he was off with Michonne, he rarely took a turn.
"She's gotta eat, same as the rest of us." Daryl shrugged, occupying himself with shifting the baby in his arms to re-position her to be burped.
Carol's face remained outwardly stoic, but Daryl could see the pain behind it. Saving Judith had cost her, and while she didn't resent or begrudge the baby her life, being close to another child wasn't something she could allow herself.
"You go on up—take your bath. I'll put her to bed; bring the thing up with me." Daryl told her, indicating the digital video baby monitor on the coffee table.
Carol stood motionless, still watching them, smiled a little at the hearty "urp" his ministrations extracted from the tiny perfect girl and then she came close enough to lean over and kiss both their foreheads quickly before going up the stairs.
They'd been discussing the necessity of his next trip with Aaron; her wondering if it was really such a good idea for anyone to venture outside the walls when they already knew they were facing a real threat. Deanna had felt that they need more, as much information they could gather on the Wolves—to know their true numbers—so that they could be better prepared.
She knew Daryl would go; knew his sense of duty and honor would compel him to leave her again. She felt selfish in her love, wanting him to stay, jealous of everything that would take him so far away from her.
He knocked on the bathroom door to tell her he was upstairs and she called for him to come in. He opened the door, but ducked his head when he saw she was still in the tub.
"I...uh...she's asleep..." he stuttered, holding out the monitor.
"We didn't finish our talk." Carol said, motioning towards him, "Come in—don't let the warm air out! Close the door and sit."
Daryl eyed the "throne" in the steamy small space warily, but then set the small electronic device down on the sink counter, pulled the bathroom door shut behind him, pushed the toilet seat closed and then sat next to the tub, staring down at his hands instead of looking at her.
Carol thought it was sweet, how he still could be so shy about some things. In the last weeks he'd had his hands and mouth on every inch of her, but in the assumed privacy of her bath he was a blushing schoolboy again.
"You want to go?" Carol asked him, but he frowned at her, unsure if she meant now or outside the walls with Aaron. Her eyes were huge in her pale face with her hair all wet and slicked back. He felt inadequate to the intimacy of being here with her, caring for a child together in this beautiful home, talking with her as she bathed, it wasn't like anything he had ever imagined doing. Life was harsh and cruel and Daryl Dixon hadn't ever gotten to keep anything worth having... and this? This was someone else's dream he'd wandered into...
"Never..." Daryl breathed, closing his eyes against the rising tide of emotion, his voice catching, lowering his chin, "...never want to leave you." He heard the sound of her rising from the water, stepping lightly from the tub and he reached for her blindly, pulling her against him, his face to her warm damp belly, her arms going around him as she enfolded him tightly.
It was scary, for both of them, to feel this way, this much. They knew from the book he'd kept them working at that you could hide in a relationship, use another person to substitute for your other addictions, to escape a bad reality. Life now was a bad reality pretty much all the time, dire situations a daily occurrence, but being together didn't feel like a hiding place from that...for them, being together was life.
She'd been so accepting of his scars that he'd known she must have her own. Daryl pressed his lips to the low curved horizontal one that had allowed Sophia into the world, then the stretch marks she'd been so ambivalent about letting him see at first. She loved them because they'd come with her daughter, but she had been shamed for them in another life, by another man, for her body as a whole for so long, that she hadn't known how he would react to seeing her.
Daryl admired the toned strength that their hard life had given her under her velveteen scattering of freckles and had gone nonverbal and worshipful when he'd finally seen what she was really hiding under her clothes.
He circled her belly button with his tongue and she shuddered, her hands going to his shoulders, and he continued up, engulfing one chilled damp nipple whole, sucking it into his eager mouth with a sound of satisfaction.
"You just go from zero to a hundred..." Carol gasped, arching up into the sensations he was creating at her breast. He had one big hand spread over her back, holding her to him, the other over her hip holding her still. She fisted the back of his t-shirt, dragging it up and off so she could get her hands on his flesh, felt the muscles ripple in his torso, and then let him urge her down to straddle his lap so his straining fly could push up against her heat, groaning at the incomplete sensation of pleasure their movements together were creating.
A sudden burst of infant distress came from the baby monitor and they both froze as the fussing rose to a full on heart rending cry.
"Didn't know cock blocking was an inherited trait." Daryl grumbled, resting his forehead against Carol's collarbone, making her chuckle. "I'll go check her—meet you in our room..."
Daryl stood and Carol slid down his body until her feet touched the floor. She kept her arms around his neck so she could hug him close before releasing him. He kissed her quick and then headed for the baby. Carol toweled at her hair getting as much wetness out as possible and watched on the monitor as Daryl entered Rick's room where Jude's crib was set up.
"What's the deal, ass kicker?" Daryl said to the child, lifting her up and out. He cradled her against his bare chest while he checked her diaper. "Sound mad at the world. Been there n' that ain't no fun—course I had reason, but what's your excuse? Piss your pants?" he asked then huffed, "Dry as a bone."
Judith's cries continued, so he walked with her in a small circle around the room, bouncing her a bit and actually humming and murmuring something. Carol leaned closer and turned up the sound to try and catch what tune it was. It sounded familiar, but she couldn't place it. Giving up, she pulled on Daryl's t-shirt, grabbed the monitor and headed for their room.
She had started to doze off by the time he joined her, but woke giving a little shriek when he stuck his cold toes on her bare smooth freshly shaved calves. One of the joys of having regular hot running water was the choices in hygiene it offered.
She sort of admired Maggie and Glenn's determination to have a sex life no matter how primitive their conditions got, but one remnant of 'the world that was,' for Carol, was being thankful that their current situation in the ASZ meant that she got to sleep with a man who showered regularly.
"You got clothes on." Daryl pouted when his roaming hands touched cloth and not skin. He'd stripped off his jeans before joining her and had expected her to do the same.
"Well, you seemed a bit embarrassed to see me in the tub." Carol teased, pushing his hair back off his face. "Didn't want to strain your delicate sensibilities."
"Bath's...private time." Daryl said, blushing a little and avoiding her eyes.
When he was eight he'd accidentally walked in on his momma taking a bath once and she'd blistered his backside, calling him a "pervert." After that it was the only room in the house that had a lock on it from the inside. Then when he was older Merle had introduced him to the concept of jerking off in the shower, explaining that it didn't leave any tell tale signs on the sheets and how "a little of that hair conditioner slicked yer piece right up nice."
It gave him a bit of a confused notion about sexuality and bathrooms.
"Oh, I see." Carol replied, her tone serious now, realizing that may have been a place that hadn't been safe for him as a child; bad things might've happened to him there. "Even if I invited you in? Wanted you there with me?"
"In? In the tub with you?" Daryl swallowed hard and that little wince under his left eye let her know he was getting overwhelmed, but turned on just the same. She saw the flush of color start creeping up his neck.
"Or the shower." Carol nodded, softening her voice and stroking his left cheek gently, "Whatever you want." She watched as he silently seemed to mull that over, almost arguing with himself.
"Guess that'd save on hot water." he finally offered, wincing again at how stupid that sounded.
"Guess it would," Carol agreed, holding back her smile. "Next time." she leaned in and kissed him on the lips to let him know it was all right.
"Next time." he murmured, giving her a shy grin.
"So what were you singing?" Carol asked, in for a penny, in for a pound. "The lullaby to Judith?"
"Don't sing." Daryl said dismissively, skimming his hands down to cup her ass, smiling to himself when he found the hem line of the shirt.
"Sounded familiar..." Carol pressed, humming what she could recall of what she'd heard.
"Hearin' things." Daryl disagreed, pushing her onto her back and lifting the tee up over her waist.
Carol squirmed, but he kept her still with his hands gripping the points of her hips, leaning in to place a kiss high on the inside of her thigh...
"Daryl!" she protested his deliberate distraction, a little more stridently than she meant to.
Immediately he stopped what he was doing, sitting back on his heels, his hair falling over his eyes.
Carol sat up and took his hands in hers.
"It's okay, I didn't say stop." Carol said gently, pulling him towards her, wrapping his arms around her, and then hers around him, reassuring him that he hadn't done anything wrong.
"So Far Away From Me." Daryl said softly, resting his forehead on her shoulder.
"I'm not... I'm right here..." Carol said, running her fingers through his hair.
"The lullaby... " he told her, lifting his face to hers.
"That's a sad lullaby." she whispered and he found her mouth with his. The kiss was sweet and careful, and he let her be the one to deepen it, her hands trailing down the strong column of his neck, running her thumbs along his collarbones and out over his broad shoulders, pushing him back on the bed, continuing to kiss him as she lay draped over him.
Daryl found the hem of her shirt again and pulled it up until she broke the kiss and raised her arms so he could take it off of her. She smiled down at him, bracing her hands on his shoulders and he nudged her legs apart until they were on either side of his.
Carol groaned as she felt him roll his hips up hard against her while he leaned his head up to ask for her lips.
The urgent rasp of his whiskers against her face, along her throat as he kissed and licked his way down always thrilled her, as did the little whimpering noises he made when she used her hands on him, light lingering caresses or scritch-scratches with the tips of her fingers urging him on.
She'd always thought he had a feral grace, had enjoyed just watching him move as he stalked and hunted, rode his bike, killed walkers with knife and bow or whatever came to hand. She shouldn't have been surprised when he used that grace in making love, but several times before now she'd seen him be awkward around her especially.
His adorable face palm at the fail when he'd offered to carry her water back at the church, all those stammered "Stahps" at her patient flirtations...they hadn't been because he didn't know about the mechanics of sex, they had been because he'd had so little experience of love.
"This okay?" Daryl asked, reversing their positions so he was above her, holding back until he was sure of her.
"I'm okay." Carol said, smiling at his care for her even in this. She'd been accustomed to being used for another's pleasure; that he wanted and waited for hers showed her trust in him was well deserved.
Daryl shifted enough to grab a condom packet off the end table. Eventually all of them left in the world would be past their expiration date, Carol supposed, and in a world where possibly ninety percent of the population were the walking dead, if humanity was going to survive there would need to be babies, lots and lots of babies...
Maybe for Daryl, but not for her.
Never again for her.
It was enough for her that he loved her and wanted to be with her, that they could share this and whatever time she had left.
As he merged their bodies she closed her eyes and felt that blissful sharp pain of regret that it wouldn't last, no matter how tightly she held on to him.
"Carol." Daryl said her name. He did that more now.
She opened her eyes into his intense loving blue and raised her hands to hold his face as he began to move within her. He gave her that same smile she'd seen on his face when they were reunited in the woods outside Terminus that day. He did that more now too.
"We have to go tomorrow." Aaron insisted, whispering vehemently. He stood next to Carol looking down at Daryl, still sleeping off the sedative Rosita had given him.
"Then he's not going with you." Carol said softly, "I'm the closest thing there is to his doctor, and in my medical opinion his injury would seriously limit his mobility and endanger not only him but the rest of the scouting party."
"Shit—it's that bad?" Aaron grimaced.
"If we don't let it heal properly he could have permanent muscle damage in that leg." Carol explained. "I'm no surgeon; I repaired it as best I could. Hopefully if there's no infection he'll be fine in a couple of weeks."
Aaron looked like he wanted to either put his fist through a wall or cry—probably both. He'd come to rely on Daryl's quiet strength and good instincts out there. Neither Eric nor his next choice, Glenn, was in any shape to go either...
"So what are you going to do?" Carol asked.
"I'll take Morgan." Aaron replied with a sigh. He'd planned to ask the Zen master to be the third man anyhow after the first impression he'd made.
"Better make sure he has his stick." Daryl said in a rusty drawl from the bed.
"You're awake." Carol said, smiling down at him as she checked his pulse.
"Yeah, no thanks to you." Daryl grumped at her.
"Plenty of blame to go around. You took a dive...off a bus..." Aaron accused.
Carol looked up at him sharply. To insinuate that Daryl had deliberately injured himself so he wouldn't have to go back out there—
"Fuck you. I'm stuck in here watching Eugene tryin' to get with pantry lady—rather be out there ass deep in walker guts than have to see that." Daryl snarked.
"Fuck you. I get to be 'Grasshopper' 24/7—or maybe Luke—did we decide he's Obi Wan?" Aaron snarked back.
Carol sat with her mouth open. They were just giving each other shit. Like brothers.
The sound of gunfire and screams stopped them cold.
Carol stood and pulled out the handgun she'd worn concealed in the back of her slacks waist under her sweater. Aaron followed suit and when Carol raised an eyebrow at the fact that he was also armed he shrugged.
"I was a Boy Scout." Aaron winked and headed for the door to see if he could assess the situation.
"Here." Carol said, handing her gun and a clip to Rosita. "Need to get him into the basement shelter at the armory." She ordered the other woman, indicating Daryl, who was struggling to swing his injured leg over the side of the bed.
"Bullshit!" Daryl yelled, but then fell when his leg gave out on him as he tried to stand. Carol swiftly moved to his side to help him up.
"They'll bring the kids there—I need you to protect them—please!" Carol asked him. Daryl grimaced, hating that she'd be going out into whatever was happening without him, but nodded. Rosita moved in to take her place to support Daryl.
"Stay Safe." Daryl growled and then took hold of Carol's arm so he could pull her in for a quick hard kiss.
Carol nodded, grabbed and put on one of the backpack triage kits, unsheathed her trench knife, and followed Aaron out the door.
Dire Wolves.
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