AN: Here we are, another chapter here.
I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
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"Some kinda crystal," Daryl said with a sigh as he walked over to where Carol was working, washing up the dishes they'd all used during breakfast to be able to serve lunch in a while. He put his hands on her shoulders, physically announcing his presence, in case his words and the loud sounds of his boots crunching on the sand covered rock didn't give his approach away.
He made it a point never to purposefully sneak up on Carol, and he was careful not to even do it accidentally.
Despite the fact he was talking about the drugs that he and Andrea had found by tearing her tent apart and rummaging through the belongings that she and Merle had packed, Carol smiled to herself. She smiled because she felt the strength in Daryl's fingertips as they curled around the top part of her arms, moving down from her shoulders. She smiled because it was a protective hold. It was meant to keep her grounded and, in the case that she might react with what someone might call an overdramatic, startled jump, it was to keep her from accidentally tumbling down into the water from her leaning position.
Carol shook the last dish she had rinsed, added it to the rinsed pile, and straightened up. The others could wait for a moment. Daryl's hold on her, during the process, shifted to one of assistance, and he helped her up as she came out of the long-held position and stretched her back. As soon as she was standing straight, with his hands still on her and doing something like the gentle kneading of a cat while they worked her muscles, Daryl leaned against her back and kissed her neck and cheek.
"I'm sweaty," Carol warned, though he probably already knew.
"Dewy," Daryl teased. "Like a Cherokee Rose in the morning."
Carol smiled to herself at the silly little compliment. One of the first things that Daryl told her, when he gave her the laundry list of reasons that he was a horrible person and she should never deign to have coffee with him again, was that he wasn't very good with words. Carol disagreed with him entirely. He might not be good with words in the way that he thought she wanted him to be good with them—or in the way that some people expected – but Carol thought he was usually just about perfect in his use of them.
It had really been the sincere, and very nervous, way in which Daryl had listed out his imperfections, for Carol, that had guaranteed that she'd had coffee with him again—and lunch, and dinner, and that she'd let him meet her daughter and take them both out to a movie of Sophia's choosing. Ed had never admitted to being anything less than perfect, even though Carol was more than capable of pointing out a great number of very serious faults that the man had. Daryl had come to Carol confessing every fault he had, for her to see, so that she could make an educated decision about whether or not she wished to spend a great deal of time in his presence.
Carol hoped to spend the rest of her life in his presence. She imagined drawing her last breath— which, in her dreams, was peaceful and brought about by old age—cradled in his arms. She was sure that there would be no better way to leave the world unless, of course, he could somehow come with her, their hands never having to be pulled apart.
Daryl Dixon was no angel. He had not lied to her. He was a man with faults. He wasn't perfect at all. But Carol wasn't seeking perfection. She never had been. And, so far, she couldn't say that Daryl had a single fault that she couldn't tolerate.
"So—meth or…?" Carol asked. Daryl shrugged. "I ain't never seen this shit before. Andrea either. He got it somewhere new, before all this went down. It ain't his usual shit. He ain't been on it, though, so he musta just been holdin' onto it."
Carol nodded. Her concern, at the moment, was more for her husband and her sister-in-law than it was for Merle. Merle was, to some degree, a victim of his circumstances. He'd had a terrible life—really horrid—and he'd made it even worse for himself, once Daryl had been born, because that was the only way he had to protect the baby brother who, being ten years younger than him, Merle had always felt was his responsibility.
But Merle was also at least somewhat responsible for some of the piss poor choices that he made in life.
"Where was it?" Carol asked.
"In the tent," Daryl said. "In the asshole's pillow. Fuckin' premeditated, if you ask me. Holdin' onto it in case he needed what the hell he'd call a little mental vacation."
"He was doing so well," Carol lamented.
Merle's last trip to rehab had lasted only the minimum thirty days. He knew all the right answers at this point. He knew how the system worked. He'd been in rehab enough that he could get through all their interviews and conversations like someone hitting every note of their lifelong favorite song.
This time, though, Merle had been clean for almost three months since he left rehab.
"Well, he fell off the fuckin' wagon last night," Daryl said. "Found some paraphernalia and shit in his saddle bags. Figure he snuck out the tent once Andrea was asleep. For all the fuck we know, he coulda been up all night gettin' wasted on this shit. Whatever the hell it is."
"He was bad this morning," Carol said. "But he wasn't—that bad."
Daryl laughed to himself.
"I know what you mean," he ceded. "Whatever this shit is, it ain't the worst I've ever seen him. Still, we ain't got time or energy for this shit. We got bigger things to worry about—and fuckin' Merle knows that. We gonna be fine, and we gonna get through this, but this ain't the fuckin' time to be takin' some mystery shit."
"Maybe that's what pushed him over the edge," Carol offered. "I'm not making excuses," she said quickly, when Daryl furrowed his brow in irritation. "I'm just saying—he's been under a lot of pressure. He liked that job he had for a couple months, and he lost it."
Daryl hummed.
"And for once, that weren't Merle's fault," Daryl mused. "Then there's the whole kid thing. He was really startin' to look forward to Andrea's whole thing about—you get clean, Merle, and we'll have us a real family. The real deal. Hell—that mighta kept him clean. Mighta been enough to hold onto."
Now it was Carol's turn to frown at Daryl.
"Because Andrea's not enough," Carol said, "and shouldn't expect to be enough for her husband?"
Daryl laughed, somewhat nervously to himself. He reached out and pulled Carol to him, hugging her against his chest.
"Easy," he said. "That weren't what I meant at all. You know I've run Merle all over East River just to try to get it into his fuckin' thick skull that Andrea oughta be what the hell he fights for every damn day of his sorry ass life. I only meant that, maybe somethin' else woulda been enough to get him to open his eyes and realize that he's got more now than whatever voice he's listenin' to is tellin' him he's got." Daryl sighed when he released Carol. He shrugged his shoulders. "He was just kinda excited, that's all. I think—he's been bummed that it ain't gonna happen."
Carol laughed to herself.
"So he's been saying," Carol said. "But, Daryl, their agreement was he had to come out of rehab and swear—swear—that he was going to stay clean. That was what Andrea wanted before she was going to try to have a baby with him. And I don't blame her."
"I never said I blamed her," Daryl said. "Don't put words in my mouth. I get that's why there ain't been one before. I get that—supportin' the both of 'em more often than she ain't, and…spending half her damn life lookin' for where Merle mighta fell out, too damn drugged to get home, and haulin' him back to the couch and back to rehab," he let the sentence trail off. He growled to himself. "Fuck—I get it all. That ain't no kinda life to up and insert a kid."
"A child she'd be wholly responsible for when his Daddy fell right off the wagon again," Carol said. "And then she's stuck raising a child that's just supposed to accept that Daddy's an addict that—that means well, but can't be counted on."
"You're right," Daryl offered.
"But that's not even my point," Carol said. "My point is that—Andrea said he had to get through rehab and promise. He promised. She went off birth control three months ago, Daryl. She's not a vending machine. It's not instant gratification. Merle can't expect to just—put in a proverbial dollar and get a Baby Ruth and some change a few seconds later." Daryl snorted, swallowing down his laugher, but he waved at Carol to continue. "You and I haven't been using anything for longer than that. That's no time to try for a baby. And Merle's been moping around for almost a month saying that it's not going to happen. Besides the fact that that kind of negativity messes with his head, it messes with Andrea. And that doesn't put her in the right place to conceive either."
"So he's created his own misery," Daryl said. He laughed to himself. "I mean—I agree with you. What the hell else is new? Don't you get me wrong, we lived in fuckin' hell…hell, Carol."
"I know you did," Carol said. She glanced around them. Nobody was paying them any attention. Nobody seemed to care at all about them. She'd chosen this spot because it was the closest to the shaded wooded area where the children were all doing made-up homework under the supervision of the cop's girlfriend—a woman who informed Carol that she was recently widowed, and it wasn't like that, but it surely looked like that.
Carol could see Sophia from here, and it was easy to keep an eye on her while she worked, but they really weren't the object of attention for anyone around them.
"I know you went through hell," Carol said. "You both did."
"That ain't really my point," Daryl said. "My point is—Merle's been outta that house a long damn time. But he's been off and on miserable his whole fuckin' life. Self-medicatin' with the damned drugs."
"That's addiction and—mental illness," Carol said. She raised her eyebrows at Daryl. "We're Dixons, we know about that."
Daryl laughed to himself, and Carol laughed, too, low in her chest. Life wasn't always beautiful, but they were all doing their best to make the most of it. The truth of the matter was, though, that no matter how much complication came with "being a Dixon," Carol was still a thousand times happier and much better off than she'd been before. She could handle everything that came with being Carol Dixon.
"May be," Daryl ceded. "But it's also fuckin' creatin' his own misery. Fuck—if I woke up every day and wanted to wallow in the fuckin' dirt about how miserable I am, I'm sure I could dig some shit up to wallow in if I looked hard enough."
"But you don't," Carol offered.
Daryl sighed. He reached in his pocket, produced a cigarette, and lit it, before he returned the pack and lighter to his pocket.
"But I fuckin' used to," Daryl growled after a moment. "I did. I fuckin' used to be miserable every damned minute my eyes was open."
Carol shook her head at him.
"Don't tell me it was me that changed your way of seeing things," Carol offered. "You never let me see that side of you."
"It weren't you," Daryl said. "At least—it weren't like you made me change nothin'. It was knowin' you, though, that made me think that maybe I don't wanna live my whole fuckin' life just sittin' in shit and choosin' to be miserable. Maybe there's still a chance to turn shit around. Have every damn thing I could want and more. That much is you. You didn't make me change my life. I done that shit on my own. But you made me think—maybe it was worth changin'."
Carol smiled to herself. The words tugged at her chest. Daryl would tell her he was no good with words, but he hadn't ever been right about that.
"I think Merle wants to do that," Carol said. "He wants to turn it all around. He loves Andrea. He really does."
"But he loves the drugs more," Daryl said with a frown. "He's always loved the drugs more'n he's loved any of us."
Carol shook her head. She brought her hand up and touched Daryl's cheek. She smiled at the way that his eyelids fluttered, for a brief second, as he fought against the desire to close them to enjoy her touch even more.
"No," Carol said. "That's not true. Merle has never loved the drugs. He hates the drugs. They won't let him go, though. And, so far, he's not strong enough to break away. But he's going to get help, now, that's going to be a lot more in-depth than the help he's gotten before. Because there aren't any dealers out here."
Daryl gnawed at a piece of dried skin near the cuticle of his thumb, and nodded his head as he spit the freed piece of skin into the air.
"Yeah," he said. "Yeah—he's gonna come clean out here and…he's gonna stay clean."
"That's what he's wanted," Carol said.
"We just gotta keep him from gettin' his hands on shit," Daryl said. "It was all of this—all of it—that pushed him over the edge. I ain't makin' excuses, but…"
Carol nodded her head at the line that was used enough, among all of them, to practically be a Dixon family anthem for discussing Merle's lapses in judgment.
"Seeing Andrea hurting was enough to do it, alone," Carol said. "After what happened yesterday. He didn't like the Harrisons, especially not after how they treated Andrea, but he loves Andrea."
Daryl laughed to himself.
"Then we all watch the whole fuckin' city of Atlanta—at least half the population of Georgia if they bombed the road, too—just get obliterated," Daryl mused. "You know we're talkin' about when it's safe to go back, but there's no goin' back from this shit, Carol. I mean—we might go back to something, but there's no forgettin' what the hell happened. Damn—it's probably got most of us wishin' for a little comfort."
"Control," Carol said. "Merle's always turned to drugs when he felt out of control about something. The drugs were the one thing he could control. Seeing you get upset about Ed, that jumped on him, too."
"Don't play like it weren't you, too, and Sophia he's worried about." Daryl sucked in a breath and sighed. "Maybe he's right. Maybe I'm a chicken shit for not killin' Ed. Tell me what'cha want me to do. About Ed."
Carol's stomach clenched. She wanted Ed gone from the world. There had been times, when he'd been especially cruel, that she'd considered killing him herself. She'd stood over the bed, more than once, and imagined how easy it would be. Her only concern—and really the only thing that had kept her from doing it, sometimes—was what would happen to Sophia when Carol went to prison for murder. After all, she wasn't under any impression that the courts wouldn't rule in favor of Ed—a poor man murdered, in his sleep, by his apparently cold-blooded wife—over the battered wife who should have simply left it was really that bad.
She'd meant to kill him, honestly, the night that he'd seemed so determined to act on his sick thoughts about Sophia. The only reason she hadn't was because, when it came down to hand-to-hand combat, without weapons or the element of surprise, Ed simply overpowered Carol—and he always would.
For as much as Carol wanted Ed gone, though, she knew that everyone was not quite ready to handle that. Everyone was stressed. The things that had pushed Merle over the edge, and into the comfortable haze created by drugs, also had everyone else on edge. If anyone killed Ed, it was possible that things would not go well because people wouldn't know how to react. And, really, it always seemed like people never changed very much—and they'd still be likely to have more sympathy for Ed than they'd ever have for Carol, or any of the Dixons, for what they'd suffered at the hands of assholes like Ed.
"Right now? I want you to forget about Ed. Ed's not a concern right now."
"I can see his ass on the edge of camp," Daryl said, nodding his head in that direction.
"I can, too," Carol assured him. "But he's not crossing the line that Shane drew for him. And until he does, I don't want anyone doing anything that's going to give anyone else a chance to act against any of us. I may not like being in the same camp as him, and I might keep Sophia within my sight at all times, but—I don't want anyone doing something that might make me lose my family in retaliation. You worry about Merle. Leave Ed."
"I hate knowin' he's—hoverin' over you," Daryl said. "Even if it is from the fuckin' edge of camp."
Carol laughed to herself.
"Even if he's not here, he's hovering," Carol offered. "The same as your father."
Daryl sighed, but he nodded.
"Did you get rid of the drugs?" Carol asked.
"Not exactly," Daryl said. "Can't burn 'em 'cause I don't know what kinda hell that'll cause. If I go out in the woods an' bury 'em, Merle'll track me. If I double back enough times and clean up after myself, he won't be able to track me, but that leaves me outta the camp for a while and y'all here without nobody but fuckin' outta his skull Merle on your side."
"So, what'd you do?" Carol asked.
"Give 'em to Shane," Daryl said. "He's gonna hold 'em safe for a bit. Where Merle won't know to find 'em. Then he's gonna take 'em out, without any kind of announcement, and in secret, and he's gonna bury 'em somewhere. It's all the hell we can think to do."
"Fine," Carol said.
"That's all you can say?" Daryl said, laughing to himself. "Fine—like that? Like puttin' the end on it?"
"I am putting the end on it," Carol said. "As far as we know, the drugs are gone. We'll hope—there's no more hidden somewhere and he doesn't find those again. But that's it. Like you always tell me, we're not crabs and we don't go backward. So—go find Merle. Talk him down as much as you can. But starting today? Merle's got the best chance of being clean he's ever had. I'm going to talk to Andrea, because she needs me, and then we're going to start figuring out some kind of chore chart, or schedule, or something for this group. Like you said, we'll never see our old normal again. So, until we know what we're going back to…or, even if there's anything to go back to? It's time to establish a new normal."
Daryl smiled at her. It was the kind of smile where the corner of his mouth just turned up. It always made a jolt of electricity run through her body.
"I like it when you're bossy like that," Daryl offered.
Carol laughed to herself.
"Go take care of your brother," Carol said, "or you haven't even seen bossy."
Daryl's smirk only grew.
"Yes ma'am," he said, leaning in for a kiss. Carol granted him the kiss. She made sure that he knew that she meant it. She savored it as much as he did.
"Get!" She commanded, laughing to herself, as she playfully swatted him upon breaking the kiss.