Chapter Twenty-One
Daryl finally told her where they were heading when the sun started its daily dip behind the mountains. They weren't stopping, he said, not now they were so close they could almost taste the safety of the gates and fences that were going to give them the chance to start a new life. Carol had been sceptical to say the least. A plantation house? They'd found one, apparently. Michonne when she'd been scouting with Bob and Sasha and in the time since the prison had fallen, they'd been working their group toward it while collecting as many supplies as they could. In the meantime, Rick had encountered an old friend and had enticed the man they'd all heard stories about to stay with them. To consider surviving alongside them. On the next trip to this place, Bob and Morgan had been left behind at the house, a sprawling, historical beauty by all accounts, and one with a system of slave-built tunnels that had been utilised and fortified, making their new home one of the most amazing places left in Georgia. Carol smiled through the explanations, though she barely let her heart believe it. It sounded too good to be true and she was more than a little surprised that Daryl had bought into it so wholeheartedly.
"Have you seen this place?" She didn't meant to sound so dubious, but she'd obviously failed to hide it with the way Daryl side-eyed her as he squinted into the dying glare of the sun, surrendering one of his hands to offer her the comfort of it encompassing hers. She grasped hold, absorbing strength from the positivity of his touch as each of his fingers rubbed fire in the join between her own, her breath catching in her throat.
"Yeah, I seen it." The rumbling amusement from deep in his throat was unmistakable. "Been back a time or two to help Bob and Morgan set up the fences. Got trailers and box cars surrounding the perimeter on three sides, anythin' solid the bastards can't see through, worked spikes and pits too. Dense woods surrounding it and Morgan's got all sorts of booby traps set up. Man's a genius with that kinda shit. Even Michonne's impressed by him, now he's not loony tunes."
That Daryl had seen it was enough reassurance for her, but Carol still tried hard not to get ahead of herself and quashed all appearances of excitement until such time as she saw the place and laid eyes once again on Bob and this new guy that already felt like a part of their family with how often Rick had spoken of him in the early days.
Lilly and Tara had been mostly quiet in the back, though periodically Tara would start a 'remember when' story about Meghan that would bring both a smile to Lilly's lips and fresh tears to her eyes. It was cathartic, and more than once Carol had caught her eye in the rear-view mirror and offered up a supportive smile, knowing better than anyone that talking about a lost child was hard but necessary for healing and strength.
They'd driven far enough that Carol could see the start of the fences when it happened—the scar of metal against the beauty of nature that was essential to keep the dead out, only the dead hit them before they even drove inside. Tyreese had hit the brakes and corkscrewed along the road, flinging his door open once the car had squealed to a stop and he and Carol's girls jumped out of the car, Mika and Lizzie hugging each other and crying hysterically on the edge of the road.
Dread gripped Carol's heart as she held her sleeping little boy in her arms, and she blinked to try and stave off the grief that was looming. There was no doubt now that Sasha's wound had been fatal, and now they knew that even the most innocent-looking of scratches from a walker was deadly. Daryl turned sad eyes onto Tyreese, a man barely holding it together while he waited expectantly, perhaps waiting for the shell of his sister to shuffle her reanimated form through the car in search of flesh. Before anyone had mobilised fast enough to get to him, violent sobs were ripped from his depths and he fell to his knees, his devastation on show for every single one of their group. With the caravan of cars at a standstill, the girls ran away from Tyreese and toward Daryl. Before he left, he kissed her knuckles, a solitary tear splashing against them before he dropped her hand and hid his grief to go and offer what support he could.
As Carol watched the heart-breaking scene, Lizzie and Mika tumbled into the car, tears still running freely from Mika as the little girl tried to control the ache in her throat and heart, and Lizzie sat deathly still, apparently shell-shocked. Carol did the best she could to comfort them with the one arm she had free, all the while watching in concern as Daryl put down his friend and Michonne and he dragged Sasha's body from the car.
"It's not fair," Mika cried out, her little girl voice reminding Carol just how young this child was to live in such a bitter, cruel world.
"I know, sweetheart. I know it's not fair." Carol ran her fingers absently through Mika's hair, forgetting everything for the moment but the recent peace-offering and commitment of Sasha to stow away her anger at Carol and open her heart to her once friend again. Tyreese had been so sure the scratch meant nothing, and Carol just hadn't known any better to contradict him. Most of their group had suffered far worse than a scratch, so they'd had no knowledge to base a diagnosis on.
"It's crap."
Carol turned in her seat, watching Lilly carefully and wished she had more arms to offer comfort to everyone that was hurting.
"It's…just crap. Children dying, friends, lovers. How are we supposed to keep our own minds?" Lilly twisted her hands together obsessively, tears running rampant down her face now, remnants of her grief over Meghan there but also just the signs of a woman who'd cracked once that day and who could still try for round two. Tara intuitively understood the threat and encased her sister in her arms and it seemed to be the sign needed for Lilly to collapse completely, and all at once Carol was caught in a car with so much pain in it that she felt overwhelmed.
The next time she looked out the window seeking Daryl, she was surprised to see Bob and another man she assumed to be Morgan hovering around the scene. Daryl turned and caught her eye, said something to Bob and then the man seemed to break down and fall to his knees beside Sasha's shrouded body, shaking hands rushing in to grasp her arms briefly before lifting back the blanket that had been used to cover her in deference to Tyreese. She was surrounded by grief so awful and real that Carol had no choice but to block it out and look at her little boy, surprised yet grateful he hadn't sensed the dark pall that had descended around him and woke up screaming. She ran her fingers lightly over his downy hair, trying desperately to soothe herself as the clogging, ever-present clump of emotion blossomed in her heart once again and the tears hurt as they made their presence known.
Now they knew. A scratch was as deadly as a bite. It made no sense, there'd been barely any blood, unless Sasha had been wounded somewhere else and not told Tyreese, but none of it mattered now. Just a scratch, hardly broke the skin, and another member of their group was dead. Another person held in their hearts had been cruelly ripped away. She'd finally come home, found her family, been brought to somewhere they had reinforced, made boundaries, made safe, and yet they still died. She hated it, felt helpless and angry, so very angry, and as they sat outside the gates of this new home, this safe haven Daryl expected them both to be able to raise their family, Sasha was dead. A choked out sob broke from her, hurting her chest and throat, and as Beau slept in her arms, Carol cried.
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Carol couldn't shake off the mental exhaustion that had seized her outside the gates and now clung like fermenting negativity that she couldn't shake now that she was inside the house. Daryl had taken the baby from her arms, fighting her a little until he'd swung an arm around her shoulders, eased Beau from her grip, and forced her to realise that he was quivering against her, too. Carol clung to him, biting down the defeat and the persistent wail of grief that was pushing and pushing at her to let it out. He led her through the house, and Carol hardly noticed a thing except how dark it was with covers on all the windows and how clean it was all the way through.
He had a room already picked out close to the back door of the house. It was isolated, smaller than she guessed some of the others would be inside the mansion, but Carol knew why he'd picked this one, closest to an exit as he could get—just in case everything went to shit again and he had to get them out fast. Being trapped in a room upstairs wasn't smart, and she knew Daryl was one of the smartest men she'd ever known.
"This here's the study," he told her, taking Beau and putting him in the middle of a bed that Daryl had obviously shouldered into the room some previous trip there. "There's another room next door—was plannin' on that bein' for the girls. Picked this before I knew…before I got you back."
She thought he'd stopped being shy around her, his every action since she'd been reunited with the group being one of confidence and surety of what he wanted, but now that they stood in the middle of what was obviously Daryl's bedroom, he'd reverted to that bashful spirit that had always endeared yet frustrated her. She had no need of that frustration now, not now that he'd as good as declared himself hers. That he loved her. Now, with the taint of death still swirling amongst them, he sucked up that timorous behaviour and met her dead on. "You okay to stay in here tonight and we switch in the mornin' with the girls?"
He wanted her with him, to share his space and as the reality of that hit her, the contrast of how it all was at the prison overtook her, the shaking started, and too soon the tears followed. She nodded, grateful she wasn't returning to these people on the back foot, that Daryl hadn't forced her to the outside while he still fumbled around with trying to work out how he truly felt about her. He knew. He already knew and it was up to her now to catch up.
"Hey, I didn' mean to push you into somethin' you ain't ready for." His hushed voice did anything but relax her as he took her in his arms, absorbing her emotion without any hesitation, without any self-consciousness. This Daryl was shocking to her, so different and confident about who he was and what he wanted and it still stunned her that he wanted her. "You can bunk with the girls and we'll sort it out tomorrow."
"No," she objected immediately. The last thing she wanted was for him to take steps backwards, or think that she didn't want this. Didn't want him. She wanted everything he was offering her so desperately she thought she'd scream and break in two if it was taken from her now. "I don't care where we are, Daryl. I just need to be with you. I don't want to ever have to sleep somewhere again not knowing where you are or when you'll be home."
She was so ashamed when the tears became so thick her voice cracked, when her nose started to run and the silence of her fears became loud and broken. He pulled her into his chest again, allowing her to collapse into such wrenching sobs of relief, even if he didn't have the first clue on what had caused them. Sasha's death was a part of it, and she hated herself for feeling even a small measure of happiness but she'd waited so long for this, worked so hard to get where he had put them without his hardly even thinking about it.
"So we're sleepin' here tonight?" He bobbed down to catch her eyes, grinning when she smiled through the devastation that was her face, nodding enthusiastically. She didn't care if they slept on the floor or in the car, if he was there, then so was she.
"Yes. I mean, I'm sleeping here. And…" She looked down at the floor, focused a blurry stare on both sets of their feet and sucked in a breath for courage. "And I hope you're sleeping here, too."
He broke out the biggest smile in his arsenal and it was one that Carol realised she'd never seen before. It delighted her, changed the tone of the whole day, and as if drawn to something luminous and shiny, she took an unconscious step closer, his arms banding around her and dragging her straight up against his body. He dropped his forehead to her shoulder, his hands smoothing out and cupping her ass as he brought her closer. "Reckon that boy of ours won't be lettin' nobody sleep. Might have to find other ways to get through the night," he hinted and her whole body flushed hot, suggesting things to her that it was too early for her to even contemplate, no matter how much she wanted to.
"Down, boy. We can…explore some, but anything below the belt is still a bit messy. I did just give birth not so long ago." She held her breath, wondering how a man like Daryl would take those kinds of blunt physical realities when before she'd been kicked out of the prison he could barely cope with being called Pookie without ending up with a face full of crimson.
"I know it," he said, surprising her completely as he dismissed it as no big thing, instead letting his gaze rove over her slight frame, pausing at the hint of cleavage on display. "I think explorin' sounds fine."
"Daryl." Her voice squeaked out of her, all need and desire and forgiveness and she didn't have to think beyond that as his mouth crashed into hers, and she clung to him as his kiss—their first in the privacy of their own room—poured out all the built up devastation he'd felt at losing her, the relief at having her back, and Carol was totally overcome. She breathed him in, learned his taste, his style, understood that his tongue was a big part of what he gave in a kiss, but that he took softness, too. That he gave passion and urgency but he bestowed calmness and serenity as well, licking the part between her lips, sucking her plump lower lip between his teeth, nibbling everywhere as his tongue flickered against the flesh before fire took over and he ravaged her so thoroughly she could barely stand.
He kissed her until her knees were weak, until she'd forgotten everything that had happened and started storing up hope that things were going to be so much better. When he finally drew away, his chest was heaving and she was panting shallow breaths, eyes glazed with passion and love. He held her close, resting his chin on the top of her head while his hands stroked her back.
"We're gonna be fine." He sounded so positive and sure that Carol had no other choice but to believe him, giggling, carefree at the hope that seemed to banish the tension from her chest and shoulders, giving her a sense of liberty she couldn't remember having for a good long while. Out of the corner of her eye she saw her son curled up within his blanket, his face placid in sleep and a little fist bumping up against his plump mouth. Carol swelled with love for her family—her son, her girls, her man and she snuggled into Daryl as tight as she could.
"We're going to be perfect."
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AN: Many apologies for the gush here at the end. This would seem like a great place to end this fic, but I plan to do an Epilogue. It will most likely centre around earning the M rating. I am so grateful to everyone that has followed and especially reviewed this fic. You've made writing it an amazing experience and I hope those of you who normally don't read me follow along to whatever else happens along the way.