A/N: 12/04/2014 Thank you, wildcow258 for your review. I'm glad you were able to gush over Daryl and cartoons again. Lol. And nope, it's not Ed. But going by the tv series I don't think it's that hard to figure out. More will be revealed on that in later chapters, though. Hopefully within the next few. Thanks again for your review! :)

This chapter is more plot-oriented, so that's why it's longer...sort of.

Reading time: 22 mins.

Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead.

Chapter eight: Slap Jack and Late Night News~

"You've never played Slap Jack before?"

Daryl blushed at her question. "No...only card game I ever knew how to play was poker, and that was only cuz o' my brother."

Carol smiled with mirth at him from where she stood by the bathroom door.

After watching four episodes of Foghorn Leghorn, she had gone to the bathroom and found (well, 'noticed', as she put it) a deck of cards (in the shower, of all places) and immediately questioned him about it as soon as she was done with her business.

"It's probably the easiest card game you can play," she said easily. "Even easier than Go Fish."

Daryl scoffed from his spot on the couch. "So yer sayin' it's a kid's game."

"Hardly," she said, pretending to be offended...at least he hoped she was pretending. "I'll have you know that it can be a very fun game."

He merely rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything else in protest as she made her way over to the coffee table and cleared a space through all the trash and month-old magazines laying on it. She set down the deck of cards, shuffling through them and tossing out all of the Jokers before dealing them both seven cards and setting the deck face down off to the side.

"Okay, so here's what you do," she said, and Daryl leaned over to half-heartedly pay attention. "You toss a card from your hand onto the table, like this." She took out a random card from her hand and tossed it face up on the table. Queen of Spades. "And if it's a Jack, you slap it."

"Well that's dumb," he said. "There's only four Jacks in a deck."

"I know," she said. "That's why it's so important. You keep tossing out cards until one of you tosses a Jack, and the first person to slap it gets all of the cards in the pile."

Now he felt stupid. "...Oh. So how do ya win?"

"Well, you keep playing until all of the Jacks are gone, and the person with the most cards in their pile is the winner."

"Pssht. That's dumb."

"Hey, you asked."

"No I didn't. You brought it up."

"Whatever." Carol exhaled, trying to hide how clearly disheartened she was, and began taking the cards and putting them back into the deck. "...Well, if I'm gonna be here a while then I need something to do, so, if you don't mind, I'll just play Solitaire-"

Daryl grabbed her wrist, stopping her from rearranging the cards. "Wait, look, I'm sorry, okay? It just seems stupid, is all. I'll play yer damn kiddie game."

When she smiled, he added, "But I ain't sayin' I'm gonna like it."

"DAMMIT!"

Daryl cursed as he threw down his cards.

They had been playing Slap Jack for nearly three hours. And over the course of seventeen games, he had lost every. Single. One.

Carol happily took the last of the cards and piled them on her side of the table, not bothering to hide her smirk of victory as he continued to seeth.

"I thought you said this was 'sposed to be fun," he said accusingly, hardly amused.

"It is," she insisted. "...For me."

Daryl grumbled, briefly falling back on the couch and heaving a giant sigh before jerking forward again, determined as ever.

"Again."

"Again?" she asked, surprised.

"Again," he repeated. "I'm gonna beat you, no matter how long it takes."

Carol raised her eyebrows and gathered the cards. "Okay..."

She began to shuffle, and while Daryl waited impatiently for her to finish he noticed the twinge of a smirk tug at her lips. She probably thought he wouldn't catch it. He did.

"I'm gonna do it," he said. "I'm gonna beat you."

"Whatever you say," she said, shaking her head as laughter began to spill from her lips.

"I will," he insisted, eyebrows knitting into the tightest of knots.

"I don't doubt it."

"I'm gonna win this game, and I'm gonna rub it in yer face when I do."

"I look forward to it."

"Good. 'Cuz it's comin'."

"Oh, I'm sure."

"Won't be laughin' when I knock you off yer pedestal. My moment's gonna come."

"I have absolute faith in you."

"Pfft. Faith ain't gonna have nothin' to do with it."

As it turned out, Daryl's moment did come.

Granted, it was nearly two hours later, but it came, nonetheless.

They were nearing the end of their twenty-seventh game (but really, who was keeping track?) when Carol tossed the last of the Jacks into the pile.

Daryl saw his chance and shot his arm out to claim it. Carol saw it too, but at this point his arm was like lightning, and there was no stopping his destined victory.

Her hand was just a millisecond slower than his, but he hardly cared as it was his palm that covered the card.

"HA!" he exclaimed. "Not so high on yer horse now, are ya? I kicked ya off yer damn throne!"

"Yep," she admitted, staring at the pile of cards he had won. "You beat me."

Unfortunately he wasn't about to stop there. Blame it on years of playing games with Merle, but Daryl Dixon was a gloater. A begrudging, sore losing, gloater. And poor Carol, pretty as she was, was no exception to the rule.

"How's it feel to be on the bottom after so long on top?"

"Pretty lonely," Carol said, and in his surge of victory he didn't notice the falseness in her tone.

"Yeah, thought so. Sorry to stain your 'spotless' record."

She smiled as though about to burst into laughter. "My 'record' is hardly spotless-" her comeback died along with her smile, and she looked up at him from her spot on the floor.

Their eyes locked, and all the laughter and fun from just seconds ago melted away, and was replaced with...something else. Something he couldn't quite peg.

They stared at each other for ages, though in reality it was probably just a few seconds.

Carol was the first to speak. "I'm sorry. I was going to say your name and then...I realized I didn't know it. Ha."

Daryl paused, unsure how to reply.

Merle's voice echoed in his head. Don't tell her yer name, numbskull! Oh sure, she'll act like she cares. But the second she gets the chance she's gonna go runnin' to the cops. And we don't want that, now do we? So do yourself a favor and keep yer trap shut.

Daryl swallowed, pushing the thoughts aside. His mind was made up.

Pulling nervously at his collar, he cleared his throat and replied, "Uh, it's...it's Daryl."

Her expression didn't change, but he could swear her eyes lit up. "Daryl?"

He nodded.

Carol looked up and gave him a small smile. "Well, Daryl, I'll have you know my Slap Jack record is hardly spotless. In fact, I haven't won this much in a long, long time."

He picked up on that one. "So yer sayin' I suck."

"I didn't say that."

"Close enough."

"Hey, you're the first person I've played with in years, okay?"

"Pfft. You mean first victim."

"Yeah, well. You got your 'revenge', so let's just leave it at that. Here, give me your cards so I can put these away."

She reached over to take the pile of cards on his side of the table, and Daryl froze when her hand swept over his.

She didn't seem to take notice, but it felt like his nerves were made of lightning when she touched him, and in the best of ways. And now that his big head had deflated to a reasonable size, it was hard for him not to notice.

He opened his mouth to say something (he didn't know what, but in his current state of mind it was probably going to be something stupid) but before he could, Merle burst through the door.

They both turned to look at him, neither missing the nearly broken door or the canvas bag overflowing with money in his right hand.

His bandana was over his face (he must have figured if Daryl was stupid enough to let Carol out of her bindings once, he wouldn't hesitate to do it again) and his eyes wrinkled with happiness as he walked in the room, shutting the door behind him.

"Well hey, man! Have a good day? 'Cause I sure as Hell did. Get over here and help me count this cash."

Daryl looked from Carol to his brother before reluctantly getting up from the couch and going to meet him, huffing angrily as he did so.

"Where the hell've you been?" he hissed, hardly in the mood for his antics.

"Well I got a bag full o' dough," Merle quietly replied, smirking. "Where do you think I've been?"

Daryl pursed his lips to keep from saying something stupid and making things worse, but it didn't help the fact that his brother had just ruined a perfectly good moment with Carol.

He supposed he couldn't really blame him (after all, how was he supposed to know his brother was having the time of his life getting his butt kicked at a card game on the other end of that door?) but he did all the same. He just annoyed the shit out of him sometimes, rubbed him completely the wrong way. Of course at the same time, they tended to do that to each other.

Merle glanced at Carol over Daryl's shoulder, all humor from his voice gone. "Little brother, I think we need to have a talk...alone." He pushed past Daryl and grabbed Carol by the arm, hauling her to her feet. "And you, ma'am, need to go back in that closet."

Daryl stepped forward, ready to knock some sense into him if he had to. "Hey! Don't you touch her!"

Merle turned to him, brows raised, amused at his behavior. "Weeeell! Gettin' a little cozy with the hostage, don't ya think?"

"I'll be fine, Daryl," Carol said, trying to defuse the situation.

Merle looked back at her, smile gone, and Daryl watched with baited breath as his older brother tightened his hold on her arm and dragged her over to the closet, shoving her inside and putting a chair under the doorknob.

He stalked over to Daryl and grabbed him roughly by the shoulder, hauling him to the bedroom and slamming the door.

"You mind tellin' me how in the hell she knows yer name?!" he barked, and Daryl fought right back.

"Because I told her!"

"Oh, you told her? Well that just solves everything, doesn't it?"

"Hey! None o' this woulda happened if you hadn't brought her here!"

"Hey, don't blame this on me! I just wanted you to get laid! Not spill your whole life's story to some random woman!"

"Look, she ain't just some random woman! She's not who you think she is-"

"Please, little brother. She's exactly who I think she is."

"No she's not! She's different-"

"All women are the same. Whores. Every last one of 'em."

"Would you shut yer mouth and just listen to me fer a second?!"

"Or what? You gonna come over here and shut it for me?"

Daryl clenched his fists, knuckles turning white as his nostrils flared with anger.

He had half a mind to just go ahead and slug him, but the other half - the dominant half - told him it wouldn't be good for Carol or her situation. He forced himself to calm down despite his rising blood pressure, and Merle calmly walked over to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Look, I'm sorry to break up your 'tea time', but I think it's about time you quit playin' House and got to business. Now are you gonna do what I brought her here for you to do, or are ya gonna wimp out like some pansy?"

Daryl glared. "...I ain't doin' nothin' to her."

He patted his shoulder. "Alright. Well, it's settled, then. I'll pack 'er up and send her back home tomorro-"

The words were out before he'd even thought them through. "No!"

Merle stared at him, surprised, and Daryl fumbled over himself to try and take it back. "I mean...I don't want her to leave yet."

Merle's brow wrinkled, and he held out his hands, exasperated. "Well make up yer mind! You can't just keep 'er here like some kina pet! Gotta make a choice! Now which is it?"

Daryl looked at him for a long moment before finally answering, "...She's stayin'."

The words sounded good in his mind, but when they came out it left a bad taste in his mouth. Which was weird, because it sounded so right in his head. Though deep down, he knew the reason why.

The decision to make - the right one - would be to let Merle take Carol and put her back where she belonged. In her house, with her family and friends and job and normal life - not to keep her tucked away in a closet for the rest of her days.

Still, he wasn't about to take the words back, either. He wanted her to stay, and that was what she was going to do. It was selfish, it was cruel, and it was kind of morbid, but if this was going to be the only chance he had with her, then he wasn't about to let it go to waste. Conscience be damned.

Merle was quiet for a while after that, and Daryl wasn't sure if it was because of his decision, or the finality with which it was spoken.

"Well, I'll be damned...hahaha!"

Apparently, it was the former.

"Ohh man, if that don't beat all! I offer to let her go, and here you are tellin' me to keep 'er like some stray! And you call me sick in the head! Hahaha!"

Daryl stood by, crossing his arms as he waited for him to stop.

"Okay, little brother. You win," he finally said, stepping forward and patting his shoulder. "We'll keep her. For now. But word to the wise, women don't like to be cooped up for long. She's not an animal. Ya can't just keep 'er locked up in that closet and then bring 'er out whenever ya wanna play."

Daryl shoved his hand away, offended. "Man, I ain't no dummy! I know that!"

"Okay. Just figured I'd give ya a refresher course, seein' as how you know jack shit about girls."

"Man, shut up."

"Haha!"

After their 'agreement', Daryl went back to the closet to check on Carol.

She was fine, no scrapes or bruises, and he let her use the bathroom before putting her back in the small confines of the closet.

"Sorry," he said as he wrung the duct tape around her wrists, taking extra care to be gentle. "Merle's kind of an asshole sometimes."

"It's fine," she said. "I'm just glad nothing bad happened."

"Yeah," he agreed, not looking her in the eyes. "Me too."

Daryl stood up, the blindfold still in his hands, and when Carol looked at him questioningly he said, "I don't think you'll need this anymore. Figured ya prob'ly got the whole damn house mapped out by now anyways."

She chuckled and ducked her head, and he did the same.

"...Thank you," she said, and he nodded in return. When he turned to close the door she added, "Good night."

He looked back at her, pausing for only a moment before replying, "...'Night."

And he shut the door.

Daryl set out his pillow and covers on the couch and got ready for bed.

He was tired, but not to the point where he wanted to go to sleep. Not just yet, anyways. If anything, he was bored. So, with nothing else to do, he switched on the tv.

Most of the stations were a whole lot of nothing - just sitcoms and paid programming - but eventually he settled on the news channel.

His attention was immediately caught when a newswoman appeared in front of the gas station he and Merle had robbed; the one Carol worked at.

He turned down the volume, not wanting anyone else to hear.

"Police are now investigating the disappearance of Carol Peletier, who worked at the gas station behind me."

Carol's picture popped up on the screen, and Daryl unconsciously leaned closer to the television.

"Coworkers say she was on her way home from work late at night when she was kidnapped, though they are unsure by whom. It is unclear if she is connected with the two armed gunmen that robbed the gas station earlier that same night, but police say they're doing everything they can to locate the missing woman. Back to you, John."

The screen cut to 'John', and Daryl curled his lip at the man's spotless face and gelled hair. "Thank you, Rhonda. Coming up next, are you caring for your pet properly? We'll tell you more, at eleven."

He held up the remote and turned off the tv.

Suddenly he didn't feel like curing boredom anymore.

A/N: News channels are so stupid :P I couldn't help parodying some of their 'dumber' stories here XD

Anyway, if you don't mind reading small spoilers for this story, I estimate that it will be between 16 and 18 chapters, and Carol won't be staying with Daryl and Merle for more than a few days.

'Til next time!