Daryl woke to the sound of shuffling, he felt someone touching him, and his eyes snapped open. It was Carol. He sat up and met her eyes in the dark of the room. He was about to ask if she was okay, but he didn't get the chance to. It was Carol who had woke him up, but it wasn't with the intention to talk or play a word game.
Her wounds had healed considerably over the past few weeks, and she was able to leave tomorrow evening, move into the house her girls had chosen, and not be watched constantly by two doctors. She knew how attentive Lizzie and Mika would be, and that didn't leave much room for her...other needs. It was a combination of want and need. She wanted Daryl, right now, right there, because she needed to know he was here. She needed to feel his skin against her, needed his arms to grip her tightly, and needed his warmth and love. They hadn't really talked about his confession. She didn't think he was ready to just yet.
She straddled his lap, her knees against the back of the bench he'd fall asleep on, and she grasped his chin, caressing his cheek. Her lips found his in a mess of hungry need and dark want. He knew immediately what she wanted to, and he didn't want to, not at...all. His mind didn't want to, but as for his body... His body had entirely different opinion. She could feel his arousal beneath her, and a moan slipped through her lips. She slid her hand down from his cheek toward the zipper of his worn black jeans, and he pushed on her hips, partly wanting to help her, partly wanting to stop her. His want for her outweighed his want for her to stop.
Once he was free of his jeans, she sank down on top of him slowly, and he groaned slightly, his hands tightening on her hips. They waited, very still, savoring the feel of the each other. Carol intertwined their fingers, her blue eyes falling in his, and they both moved at the same time. She pushed up with her knees, he titled into her at the right angle, and the sensation was... She moaned into his mouth.
Their breathing escalated, Daryl held her tightly, his lips traveling down the soft flesh of her chest, causing her to grasp the back of the bench, her nails digging to the wood at the feel of him deep inside. Their hearts were both pounding at the closeness, but Carol felt a tugging near her stomach, and she knew it was the remaining stitches. She groaned softly, and Daryl didn't notice, because it was like the little moans she was letting out moments ago. She dug her nails into his shoulders as he came, and she felt warmth spreading over the bandage.
"Don't," she whispered softly when he opened his mouth. "I'm fine." She kissed his lightly.
He, of course, didn't listen. He lifted her up gently and adjusted himself. He grabbed a few gauze and cleaned the blood from the wound before smoothing down another bandage. "Knew it was a bad idea."
"That didn't stop you," she teased.
His lips pulled up in his half-smile. "Suppose not." He rested his forehead against hers, his fingers pushing through hers on the table.
"I guess we can work it on." She smiled softly. "We have a lot to work on, and I think we—Daryl?" A hot tear splashed on her cheek, sliding down as though it was her own. Her eyes found his in the dimly lit room, and her heart tightened.
He was trembling, she released his hands and grasped his cheeks, wiping the tears that rolled down his cheeks. He grasped her hands in his tightly. "You had me so damn worried," he told her, his voice shaky. He'd been holding in so many emotions, and he couldn't do it anymore. "When Glenn found you... you was all bloody and beaten, and I thought you had died." He buried his face in the crook of her neck so she wouldn't see him, not like this. "And when Glenn tried to get you to breathe, I—I just stood there like a damn fool. I gave up on you. I'm so sorry."
"Daryl." Her eyes burned at his words.
"I thought I'd lost my mind when you breathed. I thought I was hearin' things, but you was alive. You was alive. You came back to me...again."
They both recalled him finding her bloody and dehydrated in that small little cell, barely able to push the door open, and for her to hear him say that, she couldn't stand it anymore.
She lifted his head in her hands, kissing the tears away. "You didn't give up on me. You were trying to protect yourself, and I understand. I understand." She caressed his cheek and pulled him closer. "Can I let you in on a little secret?"
He nodded.
"I'd given up myself, and then...I heard your voice. I heard your voice and fought my way back to you. God, I love you, Daryl Dixon." She couldn't keep the tears away anymore. "I love you with every fiber of my being, and I will never stop loving you." She looked into his eyes. "Does that scare you? Be honest with me, please."
He grasped the back of her head gently, her eyes closed momentarily, and he brushed his thumb over her bottom lip. "A lotta shit scares me, but that ain't one of 'em, not from you." He didn't kiss her, but he wanted to. Badly, but he wouldn't be able to stop. "Carol, look at me."
She opened her eyes.
"I love you." He searched her eyes, and her heart just swelled at the sound of it. "I love you so damn much, and I ain't ever lettin' somethin' like this happen to you again. No one's ever gonna hurt you like this again. It'll be over my dead body."
"That's not what I want to hear, Daryl." She cupped the back of his neck with her hands. "All you had to say was you love me. I know the rest. I've always known it."
His lips twitched.
"If you don't kiss me," she warned as he leaned down and crushed his mouth to her, pulling her up to him by the nape of her neck. She felt her heart flutter in her chest as he kissed her harder, his tongue caressing her, and she gripped the material of his shirt, pushing up on her toes.
He pulled back. "We can't."
She nodded and saw the couch was made up. Ah! "We should probably...get back to bed."
"Yeah, I suppose so."
She gestured behind them. "Wanna crash with me on the couch? I can't sleep on the table anymore."
"Sure." He kicked his boots out of the way and plopped down on the couch. It was a curve to it that fit his body now, and Carol lied down in between him and the couch, resting her head on his chest, pulling the thin blanket over them. He closed his eyes when he heard her speak.
"Wanna screw around?" she whispered.
"Carol."
She giggled and buried her face in his chest. Damn, he loved that sound. "There's always tomorrow."
"Yeah, there is." His lips brushed over her forehead. "But it's still no. You ain't better yet. Give it time."
"That really isn't a problem," she teased, he blushed, and she laughed again. "I love you, Daryl." She kissed him and relaxed against him, closing her eyes, drifting off to his warmth and the sound of his heart beating in time with hers.
– – –
Carol had had enough of sitting on her ass, so she stole the outfit Beth had brought over. No one knew that Beth and Mark had become an item, and that Beth was spending most nights with him. They talked a lot, Mark had some issues to work out, and Beth was more than willing to work them out with him. Carol had covered for them a few times, and she didn't mind, because they were sweet. All they ever did was kiss, and Carol had caught them making out once, but leaving the room quickly made up for that. She kind of lied to Hershel when he asked, but Hershel had his suspicions. A father always knows, he told Beth and Carol, trying to get it out of them. He had no such luck.
Daryl and Rick were preparing a bonfire. It was for Lizzie's birthday, and Carl had begged them for a party. They were good friends, but Daryl saw the look Carl had when Lizzie met him for a walk or to tend to the crops. It was the same look Rick gave Lori after his first night at camp, the same look Carl used to give Beth. Daryl made a mental note to warn both Rick and Carl. Lizzie had grown on him, Mika too, and no one was touching them when they were teenagers, and Lizzie was a few years away from being that age. He was already dreading it. He went from having only Merle to having two kids and Carol. Damn, life can throw you curve ball.
"Hey, Daryl." Lizzie walked over to him. She wore her cowboy boots and a blue dress with small white flowers sewn in, her hair down her back—like any preteen. Carol made the dress for her birthday, and Lizzie loved it. Daryl had to pry it out of her hands when Carol had to make adjustments to it. Little girl was strong too.
"Hey, Liz." He wiped his brow and removed the gloves. "You look pretty."
"Thanks." She smiled. "I was thinking since it's my birthday and all, couldn't Carol come home? Isn't she healed enough?" She looked at him and Rick.
"I gotta check on Judith." Rick left quickly.
"Liz, she can't."
"She can."
He turned and found Carol behind him, Lizzie hugged her, and Carol smiled, enjoying the fresh air. "You supposed to be in bed."
"I'm so glad you're up, ma'am!" Lizzie was beaming. "You'll be able to make it? Really?"
"I wouldn't miss it." She tucked hair behind Lizzie's hair. "Don't call me ma'am, Lizzie."
"What should I call you?"
"I don't know. I like Mom."
Lizzie's smile got wider—if possible. "Okay. I'll see you tonight, Mom."
"Hey, where're you goin'?" Daryl called after her.
"Carl's taking me to the garden," she called back.
"Carl?" He narrowed his eyes as Lizzie met Carl by the garden and took his hand. "Friends don't hold hands."
Carol laughed. "I didn't expected the stereotype."
"He's older than her," Daryl defended.
"By what? A year?" She held her side.
"A year makes a big difference. He's a boy too. I know how a sixteen year old boy thinks."
"They're not sixteen yet," Carol informed. "Lizzie's twelve, and Carl's thirteen. Besides Michonne had dibs on punishing him if he gets her pregnant."
"Pregnant?" Daryl exclaimed. "He ain't goin' nowhere near her. I'll keep her locked in the house." Carol laughed. "It ain't funny. How're you not concerned?"
"Because I know what a sixteen year old girls thinks like, and you won't be able to stop her when she's ready. It's Carl or that annoy kid...Thomas."
"No guy be better," he murmured. "Damn kid ain't mine, and I'm worryin'. This is your fault."
"I know. I love it." She slid her arms around his waist. "We need to talk."
"No, you needa lie down."
"Daryl." She met his eyes. "I need to talk to you."
He swallowed. "You think you're ready?"
"I am. I know that I am."
"C'mere." He took her hand and led her to the house where he and the girls were living. "The girls picked it out."
"I like it. It's cute."
They went inside, Carol loved their bedroom, spacious and it felt like home. She sat on the bed, Daryl sat in a chair he moved by the bed, and they sat in silence. He held her hands, rubbing small circle into the palms like she did with him when she was tired. It was soothing her, and she began to speak.
"It was all physical," she told him softly. "Ed's endless rants and taunts actually helped me to see the bullshit in his mind games, but the pain...was so much. I felt like it was everywhere, all the time. Everything was blurry, and I was so scared, but I couldn't let him know that."
He clenched his jaw and held her hands tighter.
She sniffed. "He wanted to know where we were now, and he wasn't playing around. Bob hadn't told him when he asked. Bob claimed he was never with us after the prison fell. He was protecting Judith and Carl and Lizzie and Mika, I think."
"Don't make him a good man."
"No, it doesn't." She paused. "When he couldn't torture it out of me...he brought in helpless innocents and just slaughtered them in front of me. The bodies you found me with? They were the people he killed. I was so dizzy from the blood loss, and I wasn't sure what was real and what was fake. I blacked out." Tears rolled down her cheeks. "I felt something going down my throat, I was gagging and I opened my e—eyes. He had a tube down my throat and was dropping teeth into the tube." She shuddered and covered her mouth as her breakfast threatened to come up.
Daryl stood up. "You don't gotta tell me no more."
"I had to swallow the fingers. He wanted me to know it was my fault they were dead. He wanted me to have a piece of them in me," she told him, her mouth filling with saliva. "Two of them had wedding rings on."
He grabbed the trashcan beside the bed, and she threw up her breakfast. "It's all right. He's dead, and it ain't gonna happen again." He rubbed her back, and she wiped her mouth, sitting back, crying.
"It was my fault. I let them die. It was my fault."
He held her close. "Don't think like that. It ain't true. It wasn't your fault. He was a sick man." He soothed her as she cried. "It wasn't your fault."
She gripped his shirt tightly, seeing the fear of the people she had seen, and only some of them were real. She wished she could go back and save them. She wanted to go back and save them all. God, she missed the people who lost their lives to get them there. There would be no true happy ending in this world, just small victories.
– – –
Daryl, Rick, Glenn, Mark and Alex were doing their weekly killing of walkers just outside the gate. Rick insisted on keep that number low, and they all agreed. The woman were cleaning vegetables, cooking meat, and preparing a feast for tonight's dinner. It was the first of the month, and they did it every first according to Alex and Mark. They took the best of the meat, vegetables and even used sugar to make dessert. It was to celebrate those gone and those who had just arrived. They'd found ten more survivors this month, and they were adjusting to this lifestyle. There were boys around Beth's age, but she was already quite taken, much to Hershel's displeasure, with Dr. Slator. And Carl and Lizzie had become even close friends. Michonne often teased Carol about how they'd have to lock the house at night when they became teenagers—it was her favorite way to pass time. Daryl, who had become like the girls' father, frowned along with Rick and that only made them laugh harder. They were laughing again, and it felt great. It was like before, and this time, it was actually true.
Carol wiped her hands and went to check on the girls and Carl. Lizzie and Carl were playing a card game; Mika and Judith were helping Beth with the cooking. Judith was just playing with the herbs though. She saw Daryl motioning for her to come out, so she removed her apron and headed outside. She needed to talk to him anyway. They went to the garden—it was the only private place at the moment—and Daryl looked stiff.
She eyed him. "Are you all right?"
"I am. I've been all right for a while now, and that has a lot to do with you." He met her beautiful blue eyes. "I love you, Carol, and I never thought I would find someone like you."
She smiled at his words.
He pulled out the ring, and her jaw fell open. He studied it then grasped her hand. "I ain't askin' for you to marry me. I'm askin' for you to always be mine. I can't lose you. I just can't."
She smiled through the tears that were building up in her eyes. "You didn't have to give me a ring for me to always be yours," she whispered softly, grasping his cheeks in her hands. "I've always been yours."
He smiled an actual, full smile.
"I have always loved you, Daryl Dixon. That is the only constant thing in this world." She kissed him, and he took her left hand off his cheek and gently slid the ring onto her finger. She pulled back and met his eyes. "Daryl..."
"What is it?" He searched her eyes for any kind of hint. "Carol?"
"This really is a lovely ring." She stepped back. "But I'm not the only one who needs one."
"Huh?"
She pulled out a set of silver bands. "I found them at the apartments."
His lips twitched. He didn't want to wear a ring.
"Daryl," she scolded, as if reading his mind.
"I ain't wearing no ring."
"Do you want me to tattoo Property Of Carol on you instead?"
"Gimme that." He took the ring, and she laughed. He fitted it onto his finger and met her eyes. "This all? Got a set of matchin' earrings to?"
She narrowed her eyes.
"I'm kiddin'." He eyed it. Damn, that was noticeable.
"I do have something else," she informed him. "Something I need to tell you."
"What?"
"I'm pregnant."
He gaped. "Pre—pregnant?"
She nodded. "Hershel said it was very rare for a woman in her forties to get pregnant, but I guess you've even got that covered."
He fell back on the bench behind him. Holy shit. He was going to be a father. He could handle Lil Ass Kicker, but she wasn't his. Carol mostly handled Lizzie and Mika, but shit, this one was his. He paled. Lori died giving birth. He met her eyes, and she crouched down in front of him. "You can't..."
"Hershel and I talked," she explained. "Beth's agreed to give blood when I'm go into labor, and we have a sterile room and equipment. It won't be like Lori."
He nodded.
"If it's any consolation, I'm pretty sure it's a boy." She studied his eyes. "Sophia never made me eat as much or sleep as late."
He groaned into his hands. "Are you sure? Pregnant? Not...indigestion or somethin'?"
She giggled. "You can handle a herd of walkers and not a baby?"
He sighed. "Who else knows?"
"Beth and Hershel and Michonne." She sat beside him on the bench. "I'm at least two months."
Great, he had seven months to freak the hell out. He never thought she'd get pregnant. It's wasn't like they did it every single night, but when they did... He exhaled. "Let's tell 'em tonight then."
"Okay."
They stood up and headed to the exit, Carol slipped her hand into his and wrapped her free arm around his, leaning into him. He kissed the top of her head lightly, and she said, "Carol Dixon."
"You like that?" She nodded. "So do I."
She met his eyes, "You're gonna be a Daddy."
He groaned again, but it was happier than the first time. Daddy... What has this woman done to him? If Merle could see him now, he'd probably wanna pummel him. Daryl was happy for the first time in his life. Had they apocalypse not come, he would probably be in jail with Merle. It's ironic how your life starts when it ends.
[We are coming to a close on Can You Stop? Thank you all for the helpful reviews! I hope you all enjoy these last few chapters!]