Hey, everyone!
My sincere apologies for the delay to post this one. I slipped with my bike the other day and sprained my right wrist *face palm* So, I've been typing with my left. Yep, it sucks. Nope, don't try it. It has turned me into a grumpy bundle of nerves. There's a freaking reason why we have two hands :(
I'm humbled by your love and support, thank you :) I tried my best for this one, but it will probably disappoint you with me being in the entire wrong mood to write *sigh* Anyway… Tissue warning.
Peta2 worked her miracle again :)
This is the longest chapter ever. Inside: "Promise I Make" by Dakota Moon (vickih), "Everything" by Lifehouse (Lussy), "Stay" by Rihanna (LaurenEmilyxx and dark-hatake). Just epic Caryl songs all of them. Hope I did them justice and you like the way I wove them in the scene.
Enjoy!
He knocked at the door of the laundry room. No answer. His jaw clenched as both Glenn and Tyreese were urging him to keep calm, hands lifted. All the three of them had heard indistinct fussing from inside; fussing replaced by dead silence the second the door banged.
"It's me," Daryl muttered against the cold metal. Tyreese was chewing the inside of his cheek at the lack of response and Glenn leaned against the wall. "Now what?" he whispered, but they both eyed him sheepishly.
Having about enough of this playing the gentleman shit, and not offering the others the chance to stop him, Daryl was swiftly smacking the door with his fists. "Open the god damn door, or I'm knocking it down," he roared.
He had stormed outside, scanning the party in the yard for Carol to detect absolutely no sign of her. Rick hadn't seen her. Hershel hadn't seen her. Beth hadn't seen. Freaking Maggie and Michonne were nowhere to be found either and he wasn't about to start interrogating all these strangers from Woodbury. He had avoided them reverently for months, he planned to keep it that way. Unless he turned the whole place upside down and still couldn't find her. Then he'd beg.
Walking back into the main building only to bump into Glenn and Tyreese exiting the kitchen, Daryl saw red. He grabbed the other guy's collar, fist balled to take a swing, but Glenn jumped between them, barely avoiding the collision with Daryl's white knuckles as he shoved him away. Tyresse returned the murderous look and held his ground steadfastly, towering over him to stress explicitly the superiority of his physical constitution.
"Daryl! What are you doing?"
He launched forward once again, blind and feral, jostling Glenn between the two of them. There was rage mixed up with despair again, only this time dizziness had briskly evaporated. Sober again, as if all it took to rinse away his inebriation was terror and adrenaline pumping up in his veins. "Where's Carol?" he spluttered as close to him as possible, finger pointed at his face.
Glenn regarded him like he was a nutcase, but then again, maybe he really was. "We were looking for Maggie and Michonne," he said, still fighting him off.
Two set of eyes skimmed at something behind him and Daryl whirled around, hopeful and eager, only to find Karen scurrying her way to the yard, his gaze stabbing daggers on her back.
"Oh, fuck. You did something stupid, didn't you?" Tyreese glowered at him and Daryl couldn't muster the nerve to glance up. "And you wanna punch me for that?" he went on, chuckling humorlessly.
"Thought Carol was with you," he bit out. At the beginning. And then he thought she was in his cell, kissing him. And then she really was there, watching him kiss another woman and this was just the biggest clusterfuck of incompetence and miscommunication since the dawn of time.
"That's your excuse?" Tyreese's gaze softened. There was understanding inside it now and, maybe, some pity. "You know, that might work for men talk but you really have to come up with something better for her."
It was too damn much. Not the humiliation. The guilt. Over nothing, just nothing. Because that's exactly what kissing Karen meant. Nothing. It was kissing Carol that mattered. Daryl threaded his fingers through his hair, all the fight abandoning him. "You know where she is?"
He sounded defeated and Glenn snatched his shoulder. "Haven't seen her for a while," Tyreese said calmly, brow furrowed. "Wait! Uh… She says the only place to get some privacy lately is the laundry room."
In the absence of better leads, that was all the incentive Daryl needed. "No one's seen her in the yard. I'm going through the tombs," he hollered over his shoulder, already jogging through the corridors.
Glenn and Tyreese were instantly on his tail. "We're coming with you. Maybe we'll find Maggie and Michonne as well."
"No guns?" Tyreese asked.
"The tombs are safe," Glenn reassured him. "Besides, who wants to be in an enclosed space with you and a gun?"
"Can't argue with that," Tyreese laughed and opened up his gait to catch up with Daryl. "We have to clear the air, you and I."
Daryl blushed violently but slowed down nevertheless, smart enough to keep his mouth shut this time.
"Yep," Glenn agreed as they marched deeper and deeper into the tombs. "I could use some heads up myself. With the wedding and all, I feel I've missed things. Let alone I'm missing my wife right now."
Carol slammed the door behind her, exhaling labored breaths. This was her hideout, not that anyone would care where she was, definitely not him. Sobs penetrated her frame as she dumped the heels across the room, not even looking at them. Stupid heels. Stupid Carol. As if wearing them or not made any difference. She had fooled herself again into believing she might stand a chance there; that it was who he is and how he was raised to despise and degrade himself that hampered her efforts to get through to him. But it wasn't; he just wasn't into her. He could kiss other women, he just didn't want to kiss her. And he had seen her standing there, bawling like the lame woman she was. It was mortifying how exposed and disgraced and hurt she was, like there was nothing else left around her and she was floating in a dark ocean of pain.
"Thought it was a wedding, not a funeral."
She jumped at the sound of Maggie's voice; both she and Michonne were plopped on the floor. "Jesus! What are you two doing here?" she choked through sobs, wiping away tears only for fresh ones to stream down.
Maggie's eyes were blurry and uncoordinated and Michonne took it upon herself to explain, but her eyes drifted on Carol, concerned. "Hiding. The drunk over here remembered she didn't have a bachelorette party."
"Why, Carol?" Maggie scrambled on her knees abruptly, hiccupping and slurring, too immersed in her fogginess to realize that Carol was crying. "Why didn't I have a bachelorette party?"
"You said you'd rather have a night watch party with your future husband, sweetheart." She was still whimpering, but was too spent to care who else witnessed her breakdown. Didn't make much difference after losing everything. And she was just plain numb, really, not feeling anything; the deep, seeping wildfire that Daryl's thought usually stirred inside had sputtered and died.
"I did?" Maggie exclaimed, surprised at the revelation. "Oh, yeah… I think I did say that…" she muttered, pouting her lips. "Now what? Can't have one now, can I? Well, shit."
"What's wrong with you?" Michonne asked calmly.
Maggie narrowed her eyes and shuffled closer to Carol, examining her like an exotic animal, suddenly lunging to squeeze her tightly. "Daryl?"
"Just… don't," Carol shook her head, offering them a half smirk that never reached her teary eyes. "I don't wanna talk about it."
"You have to marry him, now."
"Maggie!" Carol admonished her.
Michonne ran a palm over her face. "Maggie, I don't think…"
"No, no, no, no… You two stop 'Maggieing' me," she glared at both of them. "We need to have a bachelorette party and Beth is too young and you… Well, you don't interact with people that much." Her gaze drifted to Michonne before motioning towards Carol. "So, Carol has to marry Daryl." She nodded firmly, grinning triumphantly. "Then we can have that party. Simple as that."
The black woman registered Carol's fresh tears and decided to keep the banter on. "Can't fight that logic," she shrugged. "And do what? Call a walker stripper?"
"How am I supposed to know?" Maggie frowned. "It's not like I had one!" And then she tugged Carol even closer. "What did he do now?"
At the sound of new sobs echoing in the room, Michonne cussed under her breath. "Want me to get you something? Water or…"
"Thanks. I'm fine, really," Carol swallowed hard, striving to control herself. "Just thought this was the one place to be alone."
"Yeah. Me too," she grimaced, raising a brow.
"Who are you hiding from?"
"Everyone," Michonne chuckled.
And then they heard the door knocking. Carol jumped on her feet and Michonne hushed Maggie immediately.
The girl shriveled, goggling at both of them. "If it's a walker, tell him to go away," she waved frantically. "I can't stain my wedding dress!"
Carol's chin trembled at the bouncing door and she retreated at the back of the room.
"Oh! It's just Daryl," Maggie announced merrily.
Michonne hurried to the doorway. The knob swiveled.
He stopped dead in his tracks when he came face to face with Michonne.
"Hold your horses now, tough guy," she deadpanned, eyeing him fearlessly.
Tyreese grabbed him, leaning over his ear. "Shit hit the fan. Take it like a boss."
"You better fix this, Daryl," Maggie barked at him as she stepped outside, chin up, not sure what she was referring to.
"Don't you have a wedding party to be at?" he countered, not glancing at her but peering over Michonne to spot Carol in the corner with her back turned to them.
Glenn was next to her in a flash. "Maggie, what the hell?"
"Sorry, baby," she slurred, throwing her arms around him. "I just couldn't remember why I didn't have a bachelorette party."
Michonne ran a palm across her face. "There we go again…"
"And I thought maybe you didn't allow me to have one and I got mad at you"
"Jeez…" Glenn rolled his eyes. "As if it would have made a difference what I allowed or not."
"Am I a bad wife already?"
"Come on guys," Tyreese's voice rang loud and clear as he hustled them all down the corridor. "Let's go get productive somewhere else." He cast a last peek at Daryl, but he was already sliding inside the room, eyes transfixed on Carol.
She realized she was trapped in there with him when the lock clicked and she then heard the thrashing of the key being shoved inside his pocket. Her skin crawled.
Daryl stepped in sucking a few stabilizing breaths, eyes digging holes on her shaking back. He had found her. Good. They were alone. Good. And he had no idea what to say or do. Especially now that he could see she was crying. Tyreese hadn't coached him for that moment. His only advice was to try and be as less of an asshole as possible and touch her and hug her. The entire time. It was tricky already.
Girl, you're every breath I take
Oh baby,
Your love rules every move I make
Oh baby,
"Midnight laundry?" His voice was calm, in stark contrast with his inner turmoil, but he knew his attempt to joke failed miserably by the way Carol stiffened at his words, misinterpreting them for irony. He took a few steps closer, strides heavy and hesitant until he was standing right behind her. "What are you doing here?"
And I know that you can't read my mind
And baby, maybe I
"Midnight laundry," Carol sneered, furious at the way he mocked her on the top of it all, before her voice choked into a sob. This was too painful, having to face him no more than five minutes after he broke her heart.
It was bold. Bold and maybe a little harsh the way he cupped her shoulders to spin her around, but he didn't mean it. He just had to meet her eyes, explain, as articulate as he could. She squirmed and whimpered, shivering at his touch, and jerked to get away, but her feeble resistance was hopeless as he crammed her between his body and the washing machine. "Hell of a laundry if it has you crying." His smile was pained, her heaving chest gushed a new wave of guilt into his veins; this was his fault.
Don't say it as often as I should
But I really want it to be heard
When I say I love you that's for good
She just couldn't stop crying like a meek, needy, pathetic woman and it only made her cry harder. Until she met his gaze. There was something in there; apologetic, but not just that. There was a fire, a determination, an obstinacy she hadn't met before. And he was pleading with her, not taunting her. "What do you want?" she mumbled between sniffles, gritting her teeth to regain control of her actions. It only hurt more that he felt the need to chase after her in order to comfort her, completely aware of how desperate she was.
Coarse fingertips traced her fuzzy eyes, wiping tears that refused to be barred by her sheer will. Tyreese had said that, too. That once he started it would get easier. It did. Because, somehow, even for him, his aloof demeanor and aversion to physical contact, touching Carol was natural, almost essential. Not almost. Just essential.
You have my word
That day after day after all
I will always be true
That's a promise I make to you
"To talk," he whispered huskily, aware of how odd this request rang coming from him. It was the fear. The fear of losing her once and for all that motivated him to surmount his limits and ignore his hammering heart or his baited breath.
"Since when are you up for talking?" she asked coldly.
"I'm sorry." It was quiet. And simple. And sincere.
He was too close, too close for her to think. What had happened was pretty much the final blow to her trampled dignity and she didn't even know what he was apologizing for. It was not a crime that he didn't want her. "Don't you have somewhere else to be?" The words were muffled as she took in the masculinity oozing off every pore of him.
You, you take this heart of mine
And make it better
I need you to
Come and walk with me through this life
Forever
"No," he croaked, hands rubbing her bare arms, eyes unable to resist flickering at the red dress stressing the paleness of her skin. "I'm sorry." A whisper, barely audible.
She was biting her lip, oblivious that blood was already spurting through a slit. "What about Karen?" Her voice wavered at the name.
Daryl shrugged, at a loss for words. There was no way to clarify this mess.
"See? I can't always do all the talking alone," Carol sighed, blinking away the mist. "Read between the lines. I just can't."
He couldn't put his finger on what was more unnerving; her emotionally drained tone or the bowed head averting her gaze from him. "Nothing happened," he rasped; a huge lump blistering in his throat hobbled his effort to sound composed, too distracted as his fingertips petted her mangled lip and she tensed under his touch. "Nothing more than what you saw."
And I know these words are long over due
And baby, maybe I
Don't say it as often as I should
But I really want it to be heard
When I say I love you that's for good
Carol huffed and yanked away, painfully gulping sobs. "What I saw wasn't nothing," she snapped.
Daryl backed up, startled, and she grasped the opportunity to glide away. "I was drunk," he muttered miserably, eyes downcast.
"You still are." It wasn't a question, just a grim declaration.
"No, I ain't," he yelled, eyes growing wide as she walked away, shoveling as much distance between them as the confined place permitted, emotion building up precariously in his chest. "Not after… all this. I'm as fuckin' sober as it gets." Inhaling deeply, he just went for it. "I thought you were getting in on with Tyreese. Asshole couldn't leave you alone for two seconds, even when you were in my arms."
You have my word
That day after day after all
I will always be true
That's a promise I make to you
When she swirled to face him her gaze was glassy."And yet I wasn't the one making out in my cell," she stated solemnly, shoulders squared and stance proud. "You were kissing her. And you had every right to, no reason to apologize. Just don't make this about me."
Panic. Pungent cluelessness as to how the hell contrive a way to blast the glossiness of the cerulean ocean puncturing him. It was the tidal wave of woe he simply knew lurked beneath the façade of transparency that ignited his queasiness. "Thought she was you," he breathed. The words evanesced in the thick atmosphere of the room and he crouched over the cement floor, palm chafing his etched brow.
Carol snorted, rolling her eyes, evidently misinterpreting the hint in his declaration. "She's alone. No husband. Just lost her child. Fits the profile to play hero." Venom drizzling from each eloquently articulated accusation. She regretted it, of course, the moment it spurted out there she wished she could re-scribble the last line, but pursed her lips stubbornly instead.
I may hold you
I may need you
I may want to
And baby, maybe I
Daryl hauled up and towered over her in a split second, her back flush against the frigidity of the door. "If you were a man, you'd be dead for that," he seethed in her face, each word drawled through gritted teeth, the cracking sound of knuckles colliding with metal resounding inches away from her face.
"I didn't mean it," she whispered, embarrassed that, momentarily, she had feared he'd hit her. He would never lay a hand on her, she knew. Still, she didn't feel like apologizing, eyeing him harshly. Even if she had hurt him, it didn't begin to cover the tip of the iceberg of how much he had hurt her. Inwardly, she was screaming.
He frantically paced the length of the room, gagging from the volcano of simmering wrath ripe to erupt, nostrils flaring, chest bobbing up and down. "I'm telling you I thought she was you and all you have to say is that she fits the profile?" he roared. "Well, fuck you!"
Don't say it as often as I should
But I really want it to be heard
That day after day after all
I will always be true
That's a promise I make to you
It took several minutes for the tension between them to ebb away. In the meanwhile, Carol started crying again, fiddling with the doorknob while Daryl kicked to hell every single material inside there, fists clenching and unclenching. She couldn't stay in there another second, the amount of looming violence and fuming temper that diffused in a misshapen halo encompassing him was too detonate for the cramped space for her to bare. Let alone how hard it was to believe that he had hallucinated her in Karen's shoes. And even if it was true or he just wanted to believe it desperately, Daryl did have a hero complex; it was what had brought them together in the first place, his need to do, do anything for a lamenting mother. And Karen fitted the profile, whether he was conscious of that or not. So, no. Carol could be hurt for hurting him, but couldn't really feel remorseful.
He closed the distance between them again, gait aggressive clomping on the ground, and ripped his shirt open with one fluid movement, eyes raking all over her frame. Carol flinched at the ferocity of the gesture, registering the clinking sound of buttons aimlessly bouncing on the concrete floor, her watery gaze snared by his inflamed eyes. Clasping her hand with both his, he pressed it against his heart, impervious to the exposed scars marring the smoothness of his curves; he just hoped she'd ration out a way to get the memo and fathom what he wanted to show her. It was provocative, testing her restraint and forbearance and she resented him for a second. Resented how crippled his raw demonstrations rendered her, horrified and fascinated by his animalistic instincts and savage demeanor at once. Because he was always tiptoeing on the thin edge of the wedge, yet tamed it down effectively before rage spill over, at least in her presence. And now, feeling his heart racing like a lion's in jeopardy, she only wished she could forget and puddle in his arms.
All along it was a fever
A cold sweat hot-headed believer
I threw my hands in the air I said show me something
He said, if you dare come a little closer
"I thought she was you," he moaned, voice hitched and contorted, his neck muscles flexing. "I convinced myself she was you. I'm sorry."
And then she saw him. For the first time since they had been left alone, she didn't just look at him blankly, she actually saw him, stared right through him and winced, this time at his pain. And yet she couldn't forgive him. She understood, but was equally broken to the core.
"You said she's not your type and next thing I see is you kissing her," she murmured, chin trembling. This time there was no pang of indictment in her voice, just bone deep suffering and new tears rolling over the grime of the dried ones down her neck and collarbone.
Fazed by the uncompromising tone of her voice and the finality of her verdict twisting it, he braced an arm on the wall behind her to hold himself up, the other hand still clutching hers, painfully so. "Ain't got no type. Just you…" The remnants of his equanimity trampled down as he stooped over her, the limber hairs of his stubble tickling her upper lip. "Please, Carol… You have to forgive me."
Round and around and around and around we go
Ohhh now tell me now tell me now tell me now you know
"You hurt me, Daryl," Carol sobbed inside his mouth, summoning even the ultimate tinge of willfulness and vigor to bow her head a notch and avoid his lips. "I believe you, but you hurt me. Again."
Loss of hope whooshed over him like a tsunami. "No, no, no, no, no," he droned, words hardly clawing their way up his throat and rested his head on hers, vibrating head to toe. "You ain't listening!" The wailing intensified as bitter tears of repentance and fear spilled over, despondency creeping and prevailing easily. He was suffocating.
Not really sure how to feel about it
Something in the way you move
Makes me feel like I can't live without you
It takes me all the way
I want you to stay
"I'm sorry." There was a damn heart over there, on the sleeve of the shirt she had picked, swinging from a thread wearing out with each ticking second her gloomy gaze preserved her resoluteness, unswerving at his pleas. His fuckin' heart, the possession of which had remained oblivious to him until his path crossed Carol. A throbbing heart, stripped and bleeding, powerlessly struggling to keep beating under the wrench of the imminent defeat.
Carol shook her head imperceptibly, forehead rubbing against his. Not this time. "I know. I believe you. But it changes nothing," she mumbled.
He could see it now, crystal clear. It was a cosmic irony that he only got this bright view of his feeling and the pain he had flogged on her the moment he plummeted into abyss. No way was he going to win this; he could do and say anything and it would be of no avail. Mistakes had been accumulated for far too long, kissing Karen while hallucinating Carol was nothing but the last straw. She couldn't take it anymore despite the toll it inflicted on her.
Her touch was scorching his flesh, his heart racing and pounding beneath it to tear his sternum open and leap in her hand.
It's not much of a life you're living
It's not just something you take, it's given
Round and around and around and around we go
Ohhh now tell me now tell me now tell me now you know
"I'm an asshole, I know," he groaned in dismay. Burning droplets of salty tears dripped on her cheeks, others worming a trail to her lips and Carol cringed. "But if you can't forgive me… Then… Then…" Then he didn't know who he was, anymore. Then he was terrified he'd slip back to the person he was raised to be, worthless, and irrevocably so. Then he'd lose the compass that rapped to the light. Then he'd be dead inside like he was a year ago and it was one thing never getting a chance to know how being alive felt and an entirely different one committing suicide deliberately. "Thought she was you," he choked and violent sobs perforated his figure.
Her sniffles ceased abruptly at the fervor of his grief. What had initiated as beads of sweat forming across his temples and ragged breaths had briefly escalated into pouring water and hyperventilation. His heart walloped to vault out his chest and her hand recoiled.
Carol gasped. "Oh, my God." She could feel it skipping beats and then bump erratically. He could feel it cease altogether, squished into ashes, grateful for a quick physical death right now, right there. Wheezing sounds escaped his lungs as he kept panting in vain and his knees quivered.
Not really sure how to feel about it
Something in the way you move
Makes me feel like I can't live without you
It takes me all the way
I want you to stay
"Daryl, calm down," she implored alarmed, his devastation goading her to action. Peeling her palm off his chest, skin converting into ice away from the burning furnace of his flesh, she cupped his nape and drew him closer to steady his vacillating balance, her other arm locked sternly around his waist.
The warmth of her embrace, the mesmerizing physical scent radiating off her and the steel grip of trepidation coalesced with terror that he had lost her forever completely did him in and he sagged all over her, succumbing to the engulfing darkness.
Carol's legs buckled under his dead weight. "I can't hold you," she bellowed and the next moment she tottered and plumped on the floor with a booming thump, hands clasped around his slouched torso to keep him atop and minimize the impact of the collision for him. Her entire body screamed as she was crushed between two rocky surfaces, but it didn't register with her agitation. Every cell commanded that she jump up on her feet and run to fetch Hershel, but she was pinned to the spot by the way he clung to her, blocking her airway, igniting a kindling sting in her ribs.
Ohhh the reason I hold on
Ohhh cause I need this hole gone
She had forgotten why they were arguing and crying in the first place under the vehemence of the misery whipping him. "I forgive you, just calm down," she cried, their individual desperations leveling to bridge the gap between them. "I forgive you."
It took a while of chanting his name and beseeching him to calm down, cooing words of comfort and reassurance as she rocked him back and forth, before the spasms jarring his frame subsided. Daryl was curled around her, every single muscle wobbling heatedly under his skin, their bodies nothing but a clutter of slipshod limbs woven together, matching masterfully like pieces of the same jigsaw.
Funny you're the broken one but I'm the only one who needed saving
Cause when you never see the lights it's hard to know which one of us is caving
Unable herself to breathe for far too long, she kept it from him. It was always like that, his grip a vise clamped around her. Always. And she had relished it only too rarely to be anywhere close to satiated, the last time being earlier that night when he hindered her fall and she had swooned in his arms. There was an ambiguity in that embrace; on the one hand, it hurled a lukewarm sense of ultimate safety inside her as if it was an impenetrable shield. On the other, it smothered her, sucking the air out of her lungs and all she could do was to flap there impotently like a spineless heap of sinews. She was startled at the dreadful realization of the moment that she savored both sensations equally, of salvation and perishing, as long as he was there.
Eventually, he lifted his head just a few inches to reveal a swollen face, red-rimmed eyes staring at her, wide. "Thought she was you," he mumbled for the umpteenth time and tugged her closer.
Not really sure how to feel about it
Something in the way you move
Makes me feel like I can't live without you
It takes me all the way
"It's ok now." She offered a tight-lipped smile in response, voice soft, cool fingers shunting away the sticky mops of hair that cloaked his face, drenched in his own sweat.
He leaned into her touch and exhaled deeply before propping his head on her collarbone, a stray sob shuddering him every now and then, her response being a tighter squeeze. After what seemed like forever, he relaxed the firm grip around her and eased himself in her lap. "Ain't used to be a whiny baby," he sulked, blushing fervently. "Sorry if I crushed you."
Shaking her head, Carol locked her watery gaze with him, too overwhelmed to utter even the briefest word. And she sighed. He was fine, they were fine.
I want you to stay, stay
I want you to stay, ohhh
"I know I ain't running for gentleman of the year," he rasped, voice trembling. "But I ran down here."
She had forgiven him, minutes ago. The moment she realized that her exoneration was essential to him, nothing else mattered. Somehow the switch in her head flipped. His meltdown conveyed all the messages his mouth failed to articulate. Daryl wasn't a spoiled brat to force his will through tears; she actually doubted he even knew tears could work that way. He was defeated when he collapsed and that's precisely what shocked her to the core. Because he had been defeated in the past and never had he surrendered so wholly to lamentation. Amazing the sovereignty that man held over her. He had shattered her into a pieces, over and over again, convinced her she was broken beyond repair and then glued her back together. Not by pompously avowing his love or making any grand gesture, but simply by showing her what losing her meant to him. There was no bigger profession than that.
Find me here, and speak to me
I want to feel you, I need to hear you
You are the light that's leading me to the place
Where I find peace again
"You did, didn't you?" Carol smiled to him. "Why?"
Lacing his fingers with the hand still caressing the lines of his face, he glanced up at her bashfully. His movements were awkward, unsure, but she let him seize the initiative, let him lead, let him do whatever he needed to derive confidence and security. "Why did you come to my cell?" he blundered, eyes raking around her face.
"To say I'm in love with you and ask you if you feel the same way," she offered quietly.
You are the strength that keeps me walking
You are the hope that keeps me trusting
You are the life to my soul
You are my purpose
Daryl sealed his eyes, but the corners of his mouth quirked upwards. "There's a reason you do all the talking," he uttered with great effort, voice wriggling with emotion. "It's because you can say the answers."
Carol chuckled wholeheartedly this time. "So, you want me?" she asked, ripe to accept whatever he had to serve her, whatever, granted that he responded affirmatively to that.
He nodded, swallowing hard and relief washed over him when she nodded back, settling for something as tiny as this. Only for a second, though. Daryl instantly gnawed at his thumbnail, eyes flicking around and he could sense her wary gaze on him. He felt like an idiot again, thrusting heedlessly such an abundance of misery to her only to prove himself cheaper than Scrooge when everything zeroed in to proffer… love. And he wanted to. He could never be complete, happy, appeased until he mounted to the summit of the craggy path arm in arm with Carol. His heart was safe with her. He wanted to make sure that she knew hers was safe with him, too.
You're everything
And how can I stand here with you
When I say I love you that's for good
You have my word
Daryl cleared his clogged throat, mentally amping up his self-esteem, easy enough since his get-go was point zero and, placing a fleeting peck on the back of her hand, he freed himself from the grip and scrambled up onto his knees.
She inspected him cautiously, eyes transfixed on the nervous twitch of his face and his pressed lips, but no sting of fear reached her. Only a quavering sensation in her lower belly at the mischievous twinkle waltzing in his gaze as he bent over her, hiding his face in the crook of her neck. He lingered like that for a few seconds, mustering his courage and Carol bristled like a cat at the hot breath burning up her sanity, her fingers kneading the back of his skull encouragingly.
And not be moved by you
Would you tell me how could it be any better than this?
"I can't breathe without you," he whispered, heaving.
He felt the crinkling of a blossoming grin against his skin accompanied with dampness worming its way between them and he drew back, smiling crookedly, the tips of his ears turning crimson. "See? That's the reaction I was afraid of. You have to stop crying. Ain't healthy all that crying the whole fuckin' time."
You calm the storms and you give me rest
You hold me in your hands
You won't let me fall
"Are you ok?" A cool hand stroked his face, her ear to ear cheerful smile never faltering despite the glistening tears.
"No, I ain't ok," Daryl chortled. "Talking about feelings and crying like a pussy and shit."
Carol shrugged. "We can stop then."
You steal my heart and you take my breath away
Would you take me in, take me deeper now
"You can punch me," he stated in all seriousness. "Or kick me in the balls." Carol gaped and he elaborated. "For what happened in my cell."
She pondered, evaluating her options. "I just want to slap you, though," she deadpanned, stifling a giggle the best she could.
"That's all?" His eyes almost gouged out of their sockets. "Go ahead, you can still punch me after that," he went on, tucking his feet under his butt, eager to deal with the unforeseen, light repercussions of his stupidity and start over with a clean slate.
And how can I stand here with you and not be moved by you
Would you tell me how could it be any better than this
Scrunching up his face he motioned to her in anticipation of the blow, eyelids closed.
Carol shuffled closer, kneeled opposite to him and bestowed herself a moment to take in his supreme beauty as his features creased more and more with each passing second. She couldn't quite adjudicate whether it was funny or tragic or both of it simultaneously as most of the subtleties connecting them seemed to be that he really, truly, sincerely expected her to hit him so she leaned forward and planted a peck on lips, bouncing back on her original post the moment his eyes fluttered open.
And how can I stand here with you and not be moved by you
Would you tell me how could it be any better than this
She was panting now, insecurities about the inevitable comparison of her paltry kissing skills to Karen's counterpart hitting the surface, but he was all over her in a flash, crashing his lips on hers, calloused hands framing her face.
It was inept the kiss, both of the participants a bundle of nerves, clumsiness and ignorance.
Then again, it was perfect; in a twisted kind of way, the one that suited them.
Cause you're all I want, you're all I need
You're everything, everything
Fearful, due to the damaged past. Brave, in virtue of a promising future.
Hesitant, because the scars were always there. Eager, as they weren't bleeding anymore.
Urgent, nothing they wanted more. Passionate, in sore need of each other.
You're all I want
You're all I need
You're everything, everything
Lips unyielding first, ungluing a slim cleft to start moving later, exploring each other.
"Your turn to slap me," Carol mewled in his mouth.
You're all I want
You're all I need
You're everything, everything
Hissing at the pain of her fissured lip, she stayed put nevertheless and he decelerated the pace, a wet tongue emerging through his mouth to sweep into hers, lingering long enough to lick the sting away.
You're all I want
You're all I need
Everything, everything
Daryl smirked crookedly, aroused. "Slap me some more, now."
She devoured his mouth then, claiming dominance and he launched forward, reciprocating the zeal, tongues swirling in a lustful dance.
And how can I stand here with you and not be moved by you
Would you tell me how could it be any better than this
And how can I stand here with you and not be moved by you
His hands traced down her spine, the groping touch intensifying with each ticking second, as he fumbled with the layers of folding, red garment.
Fisting a hem of his shred shirt, she rolled her eyes, dazzled by the invigorating sucking of her neck, bound to plaster a shiny hickey, and arched backwards to give him full access.
Would you tell me how could it be any better-any better than this
And how can I stand here with you and not be moved by you
When her nails grazed his back, teeth nibbling at his earlobe, the bulge between his thighs pulsated to propel out.
Broad arms wrapped around her frame, her own locked around his nape, fingertips digging into her ribcage and she melted into him.
Would you tell me how could it be any better than this
Would you tell me how could it be any better than this
Nobody ever learned what Michonne faced the next morning, when she used the key from the slew on Rick's key ring to enter the laundry room carrying a basket of filthy clothes, but when she stumbled back in the canteen where most members of the group strived with a devastating hangover her chocolate skin was embellished by a set of chalky white lips and she stuttered as if she had just stomped into a ghost. Daryl refused to be in the same room with her for over a month and Carol made it her life's enduring purpose to keeping Michonne content.
"I want you always to remember me. Will you remember that I existed, and that I stood next to you here like this?"
― Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood
Daryl falling apart made me a wreck despite the banter in the end. I hope it left you with a sweet taste.
Lately I have problem making him open up verbally, no idea why. So, I gave him an adrenaline rush, a full blown panic attack and a breakdown to redeem him. After that, talking was a piece of cake. Poor guy, he almost died at the thought of losing Carol. Is he forgiven now?
This time I have nothing for my next story, though. Usually I keep drafts with random ideas that turn into stories later, but now just nothing. That being said, it's a great time for requests. If you have any, especially angsty, bring them on!
I still owe three songs, to Haitus80, Chastyre and Val. They are coming, just give me some time. I need a little break from the songs right now :)
Off to curl up in my bed now and continue being grumpy.
Thank you all for the follows/faves/reviews :) They make me happy.