AN: Here we are, a little more here. There's more to the date.
I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
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Carol stood hugging herself with the arm that wasn't holding her beer. She watched as Daryl got the grill going and closed the lid so that it could ready itself for the steaks. He stepped away from it and lit a cigarette. He offered the pack in her direction and she took one for the added level of occupation it would bring to her hands. Daryl leaned forward and lit her cigarette before he scratched at his face and then took a drink from his beer.
"I don't know how the hell to tell you this except to just tell you," Daryl said. "But I'ma beg you to not get pissed off if you got it in you to do that."
"You're making me nervous," Carol offered.
Daryl laughed to himself.
"Well—you always make me nervous," Daryl responded. "But—the thing is that I've spent a good bit of time in my life scarin' the piss outta people. Some I don't mean to scare. Others I do."
"Do you mean to scare me?" Carol asked, raising her eyebrow at him. He shook his head.
"Never," he said. He cleared his throat. "Not you. But I know from Andrea that'cha restrainin' order ain't come through yet. Some bureaucratic bullshit that says you can't be protected until some judge has all his shit lined up just the way he likes it. It's bullshit 'cause shouldn't nothin' matter but you an' Sophia bein' safe an' fuck the paperwork."
Carol felt a slight untangling of the tension in her chest and back.
"He doesn't know where we are," Carol said. She was relying on that to keep her feelings of terror at bay, but they bubbled up every time she thought of Ed. They bubbled up when she lie in bed at night—seeking comfort in the fact that Andrea was only a few feet away. They bubbled up when she was at the bar or at the shop and she sought comfort in the fact that—if the next person to walk through the door was Ed like her imagination told her it would be—he would have to walk through a swarm of rowdy bikers to reach her. "He can't find us."
"You right," Daryl assured her. "But just in case—I took it upon myself to put a detail down at Sophia's school. Got a prospect down there. Every hour that she's at school, he's there. Keepin' her covered at all times. If anybody so much as looks suspicious, he's to send out a damn APB that'll reach every Judge between here an' fuckin' Virginia."
Carol felt a flood of emotion in her chest.
"You thought I would be mad about that?" Carol asked, barely able to hear her own words as she breathed them out.
Daryl swallowed. He drank some of the beer, but he wouldn't make eye contact with her. She let him have his moment and she smoked her cigarette. Her own throat ached at the relief she felt that her daughter was safe. Her daughter, even when she couldn't see her, had someone watching over her who was big and strong and able to protect her against the man who might hurt her—the man who was supposed to love her more than anything in this world but never had.
"You ain't heard it all," Daryl said.
Immediately Daryl's words made Carol's blood run cold again.
"Go ahead," she said.
He glanced at her and quickly diverted his eyes once more.
"I know you're Carol McAlister Peletier," Daryl said. "You're married to Ed Peletier. Gettin' divorced, I mean."
Carol's heart thundered in her chest. Ed's name sounded so strange in Daryl's mouth. It felt like worlds colliding that she really didn't want to interact.
"Andrea told you?" Carol asked.
"I read your file," Daryl said. "Andrea ain't told me nothing. Nobody did. It was me—so if you gonna be pissed, I'm who the hell you oughta be pissed at. I invaded your privacy to read your file."
"Why would you care about him enough to read my file?" Carol asked.
"Because I know a restrainin' order ain't shit but a piece of paper," Daryl said. "I know a piece of paper don't hold every asshole back. I know the cops ain't always reliable, neither. The ones we got around here do a lot more talkin' than anything else. When I was gone, I paid Ed a little visit. Showed up on his doorstep. Don't worry."
Daryl held up his hand to stop Carol from saying anything before she could even begin to speak. She wasn't sure what to say and she didn't want to put her foot in her mouth, so she simply guarded her silence and decided to give him the chance to finish speaking.
"I didn't have no cut on. Didn't have no tags on the truck. Didn't give him no way of knowin' who I was or where the hell you were," Daryl assured her. "I just told him that he ought not to go lookin' for you if he had any sense of self-preservation. Told him he weren't gonna like it if he had to see me again and—if he got close to you—he would see me again."
Carol considered what Daryl had said and what he'd done. Her chest ached with the variety of emotions floating around in it. All of them were crashing together.
"You pissed?" Daryl pressed after a moment. "Wanna leave 'fore I even get these steaks on? 'Cause—I ain't gonna blame you if you do. Ain't gonna try to stop you. But—if you takin' requests—I wish you wouldn't."
Carol swallowed.
He was begging her with his eyes. It was clear and Carol had never been pleaded with quite the way that Daryl was obviously pleading with her now.
"You didn't tell him we were in Liberty," Carol said.
Daryl shook his head.
"Wouldn't do that," Daryl said. "Didn't have on my cut. He don't know where you are. But if he was to find Liberty..."
Daryl didn't finish, but somehow Carol felt like she heard the end of it.
"Why do you care enough to...why?" Carol asked, the question getting caught up in her mouth.
Daryl shrugged his shoulders.
"I don't know if I understand it either," Daryl said. "Not entirely. Wanna say it was a judgement call—same as I'd make for anybody. And I would. Wanna say it's just the right thing to do. Tell him to keep his ass away from here 'cause we don't need the likes of him around. An' it is—the right thing to do, I mean. I'd do it for anybody who needed it. But—that ain't all."
Carol swallowed. There was something lodged in her throat. She hadn't eaten anything, so she could be sure that it was only the pseudo-solid form of emotion that was choking her. She swallowed against it a couple of times and tried to wash it down with the beer that was sweating in her hand. The liquid barely had any effect on the perceived lump.
"What's the rest of it?" Carol asked.
"I don't know," Daryl said, his voice barely escaping is lips. "And that's the truth." He shook his head. "I don't know—but I'd like to figure it out. Say if you gonna go or you gonna stay—'cause I can take you home or I can put these steaks on. It's up to you."
Carol swallowed against the lump in her throat again and Daryl looked at her. His gaze was locked on her now. His features were pained.
"Please—don't cry," Daryl said. "I'm OK with it, I mean—like when you was sad 'cause Sophia was goin' to school. But—I don't like knowin' it was me who done it. I know you ain't needed me meddlin' in shit an' I know you prob'ly wish I'da just fucked off an' left it alone but...I couldn't do that."
"Daryl," Carol said sharply, cutting him off before he could talk himself into one of the verbal vortexes that he knew he could easily get tangled into. He stopped abruptly. Carol sucked in a breath and let it out. "You told Ed to stay away?" Daryl bit at his cuticle and nodded his head. He had the same expression on his face that Sophia got sometimes when she was afraid of being scolded for something that she'd done. He was preparing himself.
But it was more than that. More than for a simple scolding for something minor, Daryl was steeling himself against something he imagined was going to hurt a great deal more.
Daryl was preparing himself for an impact.
And it struck Carol hard in the chest and nearly took her breath. She understood. The circumstances were different, and she wouldn't actually strike Daryl, but she understood the reaction of someone who knew no way that something might go other than badly—very badly. When she opened her mouth to speak, Daryl winced at her and covered it over by bothering his cuticle more as though he wasn't really affected by her presence.
If she had been mad at all, every last bit of it dissolved.
"That's—that's the kindest thing that anybody's ever done for me," Carol said.
Daryl didn't stop worrying his thumb, but his shoulders did slump forward a little as his muscles let go of some of the tension that he'd pumped into them.
"You mad?" Daryl asked, finally moving his thumb. He washed his question down with half his beer.
"I'm afraid of my husband," Carol admitted. "My soon-to-be-ex-husband," she corrected quickly. "I'm afraid of what he might do if he finds me. If he finds my daughter."
"He won't," Daryl said.
"And if he does," Carol said.
Daryl simply nodded his head as an answer to a question that Carol didn't actually have to ask. If he were to show up, he'd simply be sent back where he came from—or at least that was how Carol was choosing to think of it at the moment.
"I've always kept him from putting his hands on her," Carol said.
"You're a good Ma," Daryl offered. "I'ma keep him from puttin' his hands on you, too."
"Would you still feel that way?" Carol asked. "If I left right now."
"Wouldn't change that," Daryl said. "Wouldn't change anything except—I wouldn't want'cha to leave."
"You better start cooking those steaks," Carol said. "I'm getting hungry."
Daryl smiled.
"Yeah?" He asked.
"Yeah," Carol confirmed.
Daryl kept casting glances at her while he put the steaks on the grill like he expected it all to be some kind of cruel trick. He looked at her like he expected her to tell him that she hadn't meant it and she was really leaving.
Carol simply stood there, nursing her beer, and offering him a gentle smile when he glanced at her.
"So what did you have planned?" Carol asked. "To go with dinner?"
Daryl looked surprised and then a little sheepish.
"Uh-to be honest? I didn't have nothin' planned. Didn't really expect that there'd be nothin' more'n this conversation. Thought you might leave afterward," Daryl admitted.
"And now that I'm not leaving?" Carol asked.
Daryl smiled to himself. He shrugged his shoulders.
"There's a lotta beer in there," he said. "Whatever you want. Hell—Andrea keeps the house stocked. We got movies if you wanna watch somethin'. The food won't be too bad. We can do—ya know. Whatever you want."
"You're letting me choose?" Carol asked.
"I guess I am," Daryl said.
"And you're not going to mind if I choose something you don't want?" Carol asked. "You don't have something in mind that you're keeping a secret?"
"I got nothin' in mind," Daryl said. "Except eatin' this food an' drinkin' a couple more beers maybe. Spendin' a little time doin' what you want."
"I have to get back to Andrea's," Carol warned. "I have a daughter. We can't drink too much."
"And if we do, I know people that'll give us a ride," Daryl said with a laugh. "Come get us. Private taxi service an' all."
"I don't want to drink too much," Carol said.
"You're safe with me," Daryl said. Carol believed him. "But—if you don't want it, I ain't forcin' it down your throat. An' I promise you that I can more'n hold three beers on top of all I'm about to eat."
Carol nodded her acceptance.
"OK," she said, giving voice to that acceptance.
"What did you have a mind to do?" Daryl asked.
"Talk," Carol said.
"Just talk?" Daryl asked.
Carol nodded.
"Just talk," she confirmed. "See the rest of your trailer. Maybe—sit out here? It's nice. Just talk."
Daryl smiled.
"OK," he said.
"That sounds alright?" Carol asked.
"We got some of them mosquito lamps in the house," Daryl said. "We'll eat inside and then—we'll just talk." He shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not real good at the fine art of conversation, as Merle would say, but I'm willin' to give it a try. But—you owe me this time. At least two questions."
Carol swallowed. She could feel the cold fear of having to share information about herself. She could feel the fear of being judged.
But Daryl had promised not to judge her and she'd promised not to judge him.
"You OK?" Daryl asked. "You changin' your mind? Wantin' to leave now?"
"No," Carol said. "You're right. Two questions. And—maybe I'll think of one or two for you."
