Author's Note: Warning for some discussion about sexual assault. There are only 2 sentences where it gets graphic, but if you have a history with rape or sexual assault, I would suggest you skip this chapter or scroll to the second scene, and I'll provide a summary of what happened at the beginning of the next chapter so you won't miss anything plot-wise.
Chapter 17: Shh
Carol knew Daryl was awake. First, because she was laying on his chest. And second, because his eyes were so, so blue.
It was rare that she got to see them so straight on, without him moving away or blinking. She wasn't sure she'd ever remembered him being awake for more than thirty seconds without rolling to his feet. Stretching with a wince, always, for whatever his latest injury was. Picking up his crossbow. Checking the bolt, the string, slinging it onto his back.
She blinked, a little groggy. She didn't usually sleep so deeply. Why was she on Daryl's chest?
And then she remembered. Gray Eyes. Frat Boy. She better not have no wrinkled pussy. She closed her eyes, felt their hands on her arms. Those hands would have been everywhere. She flinched in spite of herself and her stomach went sour, kicking bile up onto the back of her tongue as older memories crept in.
Her legs stretched apart, hips sore. That tearing rawness she could never ignore, no matter how far she drifted from her body.
Something touched her ribs. Then settled in and squeezed. It was warm and solid: Daryl's hand. She gulped a breath, not wanting to open her eyes. She'd told him she was fine. She'd been fine. He didn't need to see that right now, she wasn't.
"Hey." His chest flexed under her cheek, the rumble so low she wasn't sure if he'd really said it out loud.
She shook her head. She couldn't face him, not yet. His arms tightened around her and unbelievably, he hauled her further up onto his chest.
"Shh," he said. It was more like a low purr, way down deep in his belly. The way the motorcycle sounded when she wore the earplugs he gave her. "Shh."
Her muscles relaxed. This was a dream. Not real. In real life, Daryl didn't hold her.
In real life, she was fine. She didn't care if she'd had to kill two men. Not considering what kind of men they were. And she didn't care about what they were going to do to her, because they hadn't done it.
None of this was real. None of it mattered.
And so, because it wasn't real, she wriggled up further on Daryl. His chest went stiff and hard beneath her until she tucked her face into his neck.
He was clean. Daryl in real life was never clean. He was always streaked with dirt and the blood of something he'd killed for the group: walker or animal or human. Dusted with grit from crawling under the truck to fix it or yanking Carl out of some tree he'd stupidly climbed and couldn't get down from. Daryl was never clean.
It gave her the solace she needed to draw a shaky breath and start to cry. Into his clean, imaginary neck. Because she didn't want those men to touch her. She didn't want to stab a living person, not ever. She didn't want Daryl to be hurt or tied to a tree or for him to be so far out of his mind she couldn't even recognize him in his own eyes anymore.
"Shh," Daryl said, low and sweet, so she knew he wasn't real, and she cried harder. "I got ya. Shh."
#
When she woke again, Carol was warm and alone and the ground was too soft. She blinked down at the blankets folded beneath her. It was so light. Too light to be sleeping. She rubbed her eyes and looked for Daryl. He'd stayed with her last night, shared their blankets between both of them. She hadn't even pretended it was because of the weather. Just told him she didn't want to be alone. Which was true, but more than that, she thought he'd be calmer if he was with her. He didn't even get up to take a watch, for the very first time since they left the farm.
She squinted around, finally spotting him just beyond the trucks, crossbow riding his back as he yelled at Lori.
She couldn't hear what he was saying, but his face just looked like he was yelling. She frowned and started to sit up so she could intervene, but then he reeled himself in. Stared at the ground. Said something else.
Lori touched his arm, saying something, and Carol frowned more deeply. He wasn't shrugging her off. Instead, he started talking again, which immediately escalated to yelling. He stomped away from Lori, kicked the truck, and popped back into her face. This time, Rick came over with his calm cop face on.
Carol grimaced. Yeah, she was definitely going to have to get into this one. She stretched her back and sat up. Her mouth tasted awful.
All three stopped talking when they saw her.
Daryl came over and squatted down by her blankets. "Hey." Three of his fingernails were bleeding like he'd been biting at hangnails again, and his wrists looked like hamburger where he'd ripped them out of the rope.
"Why were you yelling at Lori?" she asked through a yawn.
"Wasn't. You uh—" He picked at his fingers. "You hungry?" he tried.
She smiled. "What I am is less fidgety and grumpy than you. Why don't you go shoot an innocent animal or torment Glenn or something until you feel better."
He glanced to her face, surprised. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." She stretched out her legs, feeling old and hoping she didn't look it. "Yesterday was shit. Kill something for me, too, huh?"
"Rabbit?"
He knew she liked rabbit.
"Anything," she said. "Even a really ugly walker would do."
He smirked. "Ain't hard to find an ugly walker."
"Well, challenge yourself then. Only kill the pretty ones." She patted his knee.
He rose and took off for the woods with smooth strides. Carol threw off her blankets, pushing to her feet. She swallowed. In her dream, she'd been weak, scared. But that wasn't going to happen to her again. She wouldn't allow it. She knew all too well that when you cracked the door for fear, a whole world of it pushed its way inside until you were helpless before all the terrible things that might ever happen.
"How you doing, sweetie?" Lori asked. "You ready for some breakfast?"
Carol hopped up to sit on the tailgate of the truck. "I'm ready for everybody to stop treating me like I'm going to break. Just because Daryl freaked out doesn't mean I'm going to."
Rick was over at the next truck, pretending not to listen, but a quick smile crossed his face at that.
"What was he yelling at you about?" she asked Lori.
The taller woman looked her in the eye. "He asked me how to help you."
Carol blew out a breath, feeling more tired than when she'd first woken up. "Shit."
"I think you should tell him," Lori said.
"What?" Carol wrinkled her nose. She was okay. A little more shaken than she wanted to be, but not bad, overall. What was Lori trying to say?
At the other truck, Rick pointedly picked up a water container and headed out toward the stream.
"Tell him what you need," her friend said.
A pang of surprisingly sharp pain hit her in the throat and she closed her eyes. "What if I don't know what that is?"
"You do." Lori's voice was steady. "You think it'll be more complicated than just getting what you're hoping for. And it will be. Harder, messier."
When Carol opened her eyes, Lori was looking into the woods, after her husband. "But worth it," Lori said quietly. "Like a child, you know?"
Carol blinked against burning eyes. She was so tired of crying. This world seemed determined to wring out every last tear she had left. "Yeah," she said hoarsely. "I remember."
Because she wouldn't give back Sophia. Even now. Even knowing that most of their lives would be spent dodging Ed, and how soon their time together would end. How violently. Her little girl had changed her, had changed the world in so many beautiful ways it would be purely evil to undo.
She just wished she could have given Sophia a father like Daryl.
Carol pulled her knees up into her chest, like she was a teenage girl again. For once she ignored the whole camp around her as it got packed up and didn't even try to help. But by the time they were done, she had a plan.
Author's Note: Up next, I have kind of a special treat for you. Something completely different. I hope that you will like it.