Part Fourteen
Daryl stops as the prison comes into view. He rolls his shoulders, stretches his neck from side to side, and grunts out his pain as everything seems to pop and grind at once. Fuck he hurts, and he knows it's all his own damn fault. His blood easily draws the attention of those walkers who never seem to wander away from the fence, and with nothing but pure will-power, he slams through his exhaustion and buries his hunting blade through skull after skull as they head into his blurry vision. Thankfully he doesn't sense any rank stench or moaning behind him because the one sudden twist he does to check just about has him coming undone.
Rick is on watch and is at the gate to let him in before Daryl stumbles to his knees.
"You've been gone a while," Rick says, half dragging him inside the fence and leaving him slumped against the wire while he rolls the gate shut and fastens it.
"Herd," Daryl answers and knows it's enough of an explanation that Rick won't press for anymore. Together they walk up to their cell block and it's the first time Daryl has felt relief to be there. The first time he's really accepted it as his home—because this isn't just the four walls that house his things. This is the place where Carol is. She's inside now, breathing, waiting and he's desperate to see her and hold her and apologise for being such a pussy.
He's reassured by her gasp as she sees him stumbling down the steps and she's beside him in seconds. Without talking his arm swings around her shoulders and she's guiding him through their makeshift dining/meeting room and taking him up to his cell, asking Beth to bring up a basin of water and some cloths. He grins, feeling almost giddy that he's back, that he's touching her even though he can barely feel a thing against the searing pain of his ribs and the deep scratch he knows is high on his cheekbone.
"Three days," he says as his head drops to toward hers, his lips pressing against her temple. "Missed you." He's feeling light-headed and he knows that every so often his feet forget to take a step and Carol is scrambling to keep him upright. His body is excessively warm, just from having her close and hoping that they are heading toward grand revelations that will finally be enough to never tear them apart.
"Holy shit, brother. The hell happened to you?"
Daryl stops, refusing to let his feet keep moving as he stares at Merle, pain and dehydration making him half dizzy, frustration taking care of the other half.
"Screw you, bro. Like to see you hole up in a tree for days with twenty walkers snapping at your ass."
Merle raises his brow, impressed. "Serves you right for bein' a pussy in the first place," he says, slapping Daryl on the back and almost sending him sprawling to the floor. He pauses as he reaches the stairs to the lower level, his eyes narrowed speculatively. "How'd you get away, anyway?"
Daryl twists painfully, still gasping from the jolt of his brother's hand on him. "Damn deer. Followed that thing for miles an' then it just runs right across them. No dinner tonight but hey, I'm alive."
"So how did you get hurt then?" Carol asks, confused.
He sighs as his cheeks flame and he ducks his head to peer at the floor, wishing for all the earth he didn't have to admit the embarrassing truth. "Fell out."
He can hear Merle's laughter echo around the prison and he shakes his head, then chuckles at himself.
"You must have climbed up there pretty high," Carol muses, making him out to be more heroic than he actually is, and he just nods because his ribs and the burn of his new scars in the making are confirmation enough of that fact.
"Don't recommend it if you gotta get some sleep." His throat feels raw and he's grateful when they get to his room and Beth is there with a basin of water to clean him up with. She sets it on the chair and leaves and he's straight away cupping up handfuls and drinking like he's about to die of thirst.
"Hey, leave some so I can wash you up," Carol laughs, and he feels gratitude settle on him as light as a cloud. It's now or never, he decides. He'd done little else but think, trapped in that tree, and three things occurred to him. He wasn't ever leaving Carol, he wasn't leaving her baby, and he wasn't leaving Merle, but most of all, he wasn't going to act like such a coward again, running away because he was too afraid of his own damn feelings and what happiness trusting in someone could bring him.
"You know how I tell you all the time you're a wiseass?" He watches her and almost laughs as she braces herself against the floor, both hands on her hips with mock irritation as she shoots him a highly convincing glare. "Well, I weren't lyin'."
"Everyone's a comedian," she mocks, relaxes, a grin making her blue eyes look soft and inviting. "I might be a wiseass but you're a smartass. Now sit so I can get this done." Her hand is on his shoulder, pushing him gently back until his ass hits the thin mattress and his air leaves him in a protracted hiss that has her brows raised in concern. "Did you break somethin'?"
"Pfffft. Never had a broken bone an' I ain't gonna start now."
She looks incredulous. "You've never had a broken bone? You? You're a boy. How is that even possible?"
"Yeah, bein' related to Merle shoulda guaranteed me a few. Lucky me, I guess."
The wet cloth starts on his cheekbone and her touch is so gentle he barely whimpers. He can't keep from her gaze, though, and finds his blood warming as they keep it steady, peering inside each other until her hands are shaking and he is back on that bridge when he's finally found out how it feels to taste her lips.
"I'm goin' to fight for you," he says softly into the silence in the room, finding courage in her sharply indrawn breath and watery smile.
Without breaking contact with his eyes, she reaches back and drops the bloodied cloth back into the water and then cups his cheek in the palm of her hand.
"Daryl, there's no fight needed. I already told you I love you. You're stuck with me." She's smiling though the tears in her eyes make him feel like all sorts of a fucked up tragedy. It should all be so simple; she's making it simple even though there are such mountains for them to climb. His brother, the baby, this world.
Before he can make his denial—admit that he knows Merle wants her and will want her even more once he knows he's going to be a daddy, if he doesn't already—she's closed the space between them, stepped between his knees and linked her hands around his neck. His hands are shaking as he spreads his palms across her hips, clasping around her flesh with a desperate grip.
"I'm no boy," spills petulantly past his lips, suddenly desperate that she should get that thought right out of her head.
She slips closer, straddling him on the bed and she's closer than he's ever felt her before, even when she's snuggled up behind him on his bike. He's swelling against her and she's pushing down, rubbing gently against him until he's whimpering worse than a baby.
"Hmmm, I can tell. You plannin' on provin' it to me soon?" Her hands ghost over his ribs and in his fanciful state, he imagines he's better already, definitely too high on adrenaline and desire to be feeling any remnants of pain.
"Real soon," rumbles past his lips and he bites his bottom lip against the yearning to twist their bodies fully onto the bunk and start ripping her clothes off. A commotion downstairs breaks through the sensual fog that surrounds them, though, and he reluctantly pushes her up and away. Before he's ushered her out of the room, however, she quickly snags his shirt and lifts it to inspect his ribs. There is already a dark blue-black bruise spreading across his flesh and she looks back at him, concerned. "Its fine," he stresses, his hand covering hers as he gently pulls it away. He kisses her fingers though wishes he could feel her warm lips against his ribs, promising himself that he would, he will just have to wait until later.
"We should go see what's going on," Carol whispers, and he nods though every part of him wants to stay hidden up in his room. "Kiss me first," she demands.
He grins at her unexpected sassiness and complies.
Andrea is downstairs. Her eyes are huge as Carol descends the stairs beside Daryl and at once Carol is on guard. The last time she's seen her friend is when she'd advised her to end the Governor after what should have been his last night of passion. It should have come as no surprise to the blonde that Carol would be willing to do exactly what she'd advised, though in the long run she's glad it's Merle she's had to have sex with before the end event, rather than the Governor himself. Trying to distract herself from the possible confrontation, she wonders how Andrea was able to sleep with a man that kept heads in fish tanks as trophies, his walker daughter on a leash and pitted two brothers against each other to the death. She can't hold back her shudder at the thought.
It's a surprise when Andrea rushes forward and envelops Carol in the most enthusiastic of hugs.
"Oh my God, Carol! I can't believe you and Merle killed Phillip. Rick's just told me what happened. No one at Woodbury knows anything, just that he's dead." There are tears in the blonde's eyes but the way she's hugged her, Carol reasons with herself that Andrea must be relieved rather than angry.
"Are you mad?" Carol can't keep the worry from her voice as she asks, just to be certain, but at once Daryl is there, his hand on her hip as he stands behind her, giving her strength and reminding her that it doesn't matter how Andrea feels, because she and Merle have given them the one thing they all needed—a chance to survive. A chance to live.
"No." Andrea has tears in her eyes, making them appear like they are glistening like stars. Her hands reach out for Carol's, holding them and squeezing tight enough to reassure without inflicting pain. "You did what I couldn't. I know it had to happen. Phillip had become dangerous."
Merle snorts in the background. "Man was always dangerous, sugartits. You just didn't want to see it."
She rounds on Merle and takes a menacing step toward him, stopping suddenly as if realising that nothing she could do to him would have any effect.
"I asked you," she hisses, and Carol feels a little sympathy for Merle. "I asked you if he was a good man and you told me—"
"I told you what you needed to know. I said he'd picked me up off the side of the road and saved my ass, so of course he was a good man. Hell, you're the lawyer, Blondie. Ain't you supposed to be able to read between the lines? I'm hardly gonna go shootin' my disloyal mouth off right in front of the damn gates."
Carol can see it's difficult for her, but Andrea nods, conceding that in this she's been wrong every step of the way. Her friend takes a deep breath, steeling herself against something momentous, and then she's staring straight at Merle, intent in every straight line of her body.
"I've come to ask you to return to Woodbury."
The silence between the group is stifling, and Carol is about to burst into an awkward laugh, thinking Andrea must be losing it to ask Merle such a thing.
"Why?" Merle has stepped forward, aiming the question at Andrea but is watching Carol carefully.
She can see his interest, though, and doesn't know whether to feel relieved that he might leave them and give them all space between each other, or panicked that he's removing himself from his child's life.
"Because you're a take charge kind of guy and I think can really benefit from that. I know you're an asshole most of the time, but you'll do right by us. And—" Andrea takes a deep breath, and then she pins him hard look with her lawyer-like gaze. "It would be good to have a friend to help me lead."
The expression on Merle's face is priceless and Carol stifles a snort of laughter with an indelicate cough. Daryl leans forward, unseen by the others, and quickly kisses a smile into the skin of her shoulder.
"What, you the Queen Bee now? Well ain't that the shit," Merle drawls, his teeth flashing as he takes another step toward Andrea, but she crosses her arms and just puts up with Merle's attempts at intimidation with a wry smile, obviously amused at his posturing. "You gonna start your own collection of heads in fish tanks?"
"I can always start with yours," she says with a wink and Merle hoots with laughter.
"Not sure I ever had a better offer, Blondie. What's the pay like?" Merle is stepping around the blonde, sizing her up and Carol can't quite help feel a little jealous that his interest in her was so short-lived, though the presence of Daryl behind her, his hand pressing into the small of her back quickly distracts her and she knows, in the long run, it doesn't matter. She has everything she wants right here and her ego can live with the small dent.
"Hold up, Merle." Daryl steps forward though he hasn't removed his touch. "Those sonsabitches was screamin' for our blood not so long ago." Carol almost cries at the look of betrayal Daryl can't quite keep off his face and Merle's playful flirting with Andrea comes to a sudden end.
"They know the truth about Phillip," Andrea reveals, walking up to Daryl and placing her hand on his forearm, squeezing it gently before releasing. "Milton came forward and told them what happened, why things had to go the way they did. They used to respect Merle. He can have that again."
"He has respect here," Daryl claims stubbornly and Merle himself snorts at this invention of the truth.
"You an' I both know that's a stretch, baby brother." Merle isn't as unaffected by the situation as he's tried to show, Carol realises, finally noticing the emotion that makes his lips whiten and the rapid blinking of his eyes. "This'll be for the best. For all of us. Hell, I'll come visit, an' you an' yours are always welcome."
No matter how he justifies it, Carol shrivels inside a little at the thought of his going. It hurts that they've woven this tapestry of pain so tight that the threads are snapping right before their eyes. The three of them are family, with another on the way to bind them closer together, but even as she wants to cling to Merle and beg him to stay, she completely understands his need to go.
Carol reaches his side without realising she's moved, and even as she's reaching for him, he's swept her up into a huge hug, his face buried against her neck as he pulls in deep, uneven gulps of air. "I ain't walkin' away," he breaths into her hair. "Jus' givin' us all some space. I won' leave ya'll with this baby and no pappy. I promise."
Carol's nod is jerky and full of sadness, her face wet and accepting.
Daryl is behind her again, his arm around her protectively as he slowly pulls her out of Merle's embrace. The brothers share a warm look, full of love, respect and admiration, understanding, and then the decision is made. Merle is going back to Woodbury to help Andrea run the town the way it should have been done in the first place, and they are at last allies.
As the day winds down, Carol brings a plate of food to Daryl. He has been quietly resting in his room to help his battered ribs recover, dealing with this new, voluntary separation from Merle. Michonne, surprisingly, had chosen to stay, and Carol is still tossing that new development around in her brain. She's surprised, but not unhappy about it, and so by the time she reaches Daryl's cell, she's smiling.
"Hey," she says, greeting him and feeling suddenly shy.
Wincing against the pain of his ribs, Daryl stands, takes the plate from her and puts it safely on the top bunk. He drags her across the extra feet between them until her body melds against his and buries his face into her shoulder, his breath shallow against her flesh. She threads her fingers through his hair, holding on and absorbing all the pain that losing his brother once again has hit him with.
"God, I am so sick of him runnin' away," Daryl mumbles and she feels the coldness of it in his lips and hates it.
"Daryl, this is a good thing for him. He'll do right by those people and I know you can't see it yet, but he's doing right by us, too. He's going because he loves you."
"No," Daryl disagrees, pulling back from her. He recovers his abandoned dinner to sit on his bed and starts putting it away as gingerly as excessively bruised ribs allow. "He's goin' because he loves you an' he thinks he's bein' all loyal and shit by not fighting me for you."
She could get mad at how he's talking about her like she's some slab of meat they can settle a winner for just by hashing it out with their fists, but she's strangely flattered that he feels that strongly about her that he's willing to go to those lengths. But he's dead wrong, and she can't let him continue thinking that. Can't let him squander away their time together thinking he's won her merely by default. Can't let him think that it even has anything to do with Merle when it's how she feels and how Daryl feels right now that matters.
"You're wrong," she says softly, sitting on the edge of his bed beside him. She wants to curl up into him, rest her head upon his shoulder and spend the night as close to him as she's dreamed of being for far too long. "Merle doesn't love me. He's not giving me up so he can do right by you. He's doing right by you because he loves you, you dope."
A spark or anger flares behind the molten blue fire of his eyes and Carol takes in a shocked breath, arousal catapulting through her body to settle in places she needs to ignore for now.
"You're the one that's wrong," he accuses petulantly and Carol giggles, kissing his cheek. He cracks a very small grin and her heart beats harder. All these glimpses of him relaxing with her is what she needs, what she's been aiming for the long months they've spent together surviving, changing, loving.
"Merle doesn't know how to love," Carol reveals sadly, knowing deep down it's true. That man is so wounded deep down that she's not sure he's ever going to recover the place that allows a person to burrow that deep in his heart. "Not like you do."
Time seems to slow as his hooded, vulnerable gaze meets hers and Carol smiles warmly, taking his plate from him to dump blindly on the floor before his lips have found hers and he angles her to the bed. He's forced to roll to the side, however, moaning in agony as his ribs seem to erupt in pain.
"Okay, fine," he concedes, pulling her against his uninjured side. "But as soon as I don't feel like screaming like a girl every time I move, I'm gonna prove it to you, like you asked."
"Oh, Daryl," she sighs breathlessly. "You're provin' it right now."
AN…. So, I am deeply aware that this chapter is…well…I'm not sure how to describe the complete lack of…you know what I mean ;) Me thinks there might be an Epilogue in the near future.