Nox: This was inspired from a prompt on Tumblr by BulletTimeScully. So I dedicate this to you kitten. Although, it didn't exactly come out how I think you suggested, it is still Caryl-y in the end!
The Walking Dead belongs to Kirkman and AMC.
Warning: Mentions of Non-Graphic Domestic Abuse and Violence
The Darkness in Our Hearts
It didn't feel right to him; standin' outside her cell, watchin' her sleep. She lay there, in the dark and he could barely make out her sleepin' form. She lay huddled underneath the small sheet, body curled to the wall. She looked so small and fragile. Like she slept in fear.
He knew what it felt like, to lay huddled in the dark and wonder if it was safe to fall asleep. He hated watchin' her like that, knowin' he was spyin' on her and feelin' like he was doin' something wrong.
But he couldn't get it outta his mind. The way she'd stood there and told Andrea what to do as if it were simple. As if it was somethin' she'd thought about a thousand times before. As if it were the right thing to do.
He could remember all the times Merle had talked about killin' they ol' man. Like it was somethin' he thought about every goddamn day a his life. Like it was the only thing that kept him goin' most days.
Daryl couldn't deny that it had crossed his mind once or twice before. But they ol' man had kept them in the shadow a his fear, feelin' like they was worth nothin'. And that nothin' kept him from ever thinkin' he could actually do it.
But Daryl could a never killed him. He'd never gotten that look in his eye like Merle. And he'd never heard nobody sound like that neither. It weren't right takin' the life a somebody in cold blood like that. At least, that's what he used to think.
Not until he heard Carol talkin' to Andrea.
"The Governor," she sighed, her voice heavy, "you need to do something." Andrea let out an exasperated breath.
"I am." He'd just been about to walk off; finding the conversation turning to a subject he didn't care to listen to. He was tired of them talkin' bout the Governor, instead of takin' care a it. But then Carol brought up the Governor, and he'd never heard her sound so…so assertive. Like she knew what she was talkin' about. Like she was about to tell Andrea everything she needed to know.
"You need to sleep with him," Carol said confidently. He damn near dropped the crossbow giving himself away. His heart started poundin' in his chest and he licked his lips nervously. "Give him the greatest night of his life, get him to drop his guard."
His eyes popped open wide. He'd never heard Carol talk like that, like a woman who knew things. He shook his head, shaking his thoughts. Course Carol knew bout that kind a thing. She weren't no virgin whose blood pumped at the sight of a bare shoulder, or couldn't even talk bout sex without feelin' like he were fuckin' stupid. He felt his cheeks starting to burn.
Shit.
"And then, when he's sleeping, you can end this." He felt his gut clench, the embarrassment fading fast. He'd never heard Carol sound like that. Never. Her voice suddenly carried years of heartache and sorrow and pain. Of hope. She suddenly sounded like a woman who wanted revenge.
He recognized that voice.
He looked up through the grates, and found Carol's hopeful face seeking out Andrea's. She was hopeful. Like Andrea would be able to do the one thing Carol had never done. The one thing she'd never been granted. Like Andrea could end everything and they would all be safe, and Carol was perfectly okay with that. Like it was something she wanted, as if it was the only thing she wanted.
He'd never seen her look so sure of something in his life. And he couldn't believe he was hearing it from her. Not Carol. The woman who teased him endlessly. The woman who found reasons to live each day.
But just then, he could hear Merle resonating loud and clear through it.
And he knew that sometimes, people had reasons.
He'd expected to see different sides of Carol as the days went by. But he'd never expected to see that. That was too much like the shit he already knew. Too much like Merle and his old fuckin' life.
And he should know how to handle that, except now? He didn't. He didn't know what to say to that no more. He didn't want to either. He didn't want Carol to be thinkin' it either.
"Are you coming in?" He froze at her voice, quiet but firm. She still had her back to him, still hadn't moved. She could have been sleeping for all he knew. But he knew he hadn't dreamed it up. She had just called him into her cell.
He stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do.
How the hell had she known he was there? He'd been quiet the entire time. And he'd been sure she was sleeping.
Did he go in? Did he invade her space; could he? Could he approach her when she was at her most vulnerable? His hands started to sweat, and his heart started pounding in his chest.
He swallowed hard and took a step beyond the door.
She shifted and glanced over her shoulder. He could just barely make out her face in the dark, eyes flickering over him.
"Can't sleep?" she murmured, rolling onto her back.
He stood there, uncomfortable. He came here with the intention of seeking out answers; either by himself or by waking her up. Clearly he'd gone and woken her up.
"Neither can I," she answered back without waiting for his reply. She was good at that. Makin' conversation where he made none. Was one of the things he was grateful for. He never had to try with her. She just made it easy. Like she wanted him there, and like she understood.
Maybe, he just needed to do the same for her.
He took a few more steps forward until his shins bumped against the bed frame, feeling more confident now. He sat in the chair next to her bed. She turned over to face him, and now, as he looked down at her, he could see her eyes in the slash of moonlight that filtered through the prison.
"Carol," he whispered, avoiding her startling blue gaze. He wanted to ask her. He needed too. He needed to know if she had ever thought about doing to Ed what she had suggested to Andrea. If she had ever tried it. Because she must have. Why else would she have suggested it to Andrea?
He needed to know how many times she had attempted it, and failed. He needed to know why she had to do it, and why she had failed. He needed to know it all.
And then, he didn't want to know.
There was so much of Carol that he was learning, and this was a side of her that she was beginning to forget, to bury, to leave behind. She was becoming someone stronger. Stronger than she had ever been with Ed. She was learning to be who she really was, and he didn't want to make that harder to do. He didn't want to make her sad.
"Yes?" she whispered back, reaching out to touch his hand gently. He recoiled without meaning to.
He watched with regret as she pulled her hand back, curling it against her chest. He didn't mean to do that. Not with Carol.
He stood from the chair, and started to pace.
"I gotta…I gotta ask ya somethin'." She sat up slowly in the bed, adjustin' her shirt around her shoulders. He looked away, his chest heavy suddenly.
"Daryl?" He looked up. He didn't even realize that he'd been quiet, unmoving. He found her clear blue eyes in the darkness and held them with his own.
As much as he may not have wanted to ask, he had to know. He had to.
"Did you really mean…" he ran a hand through his hair nervously, and bit at the skin on his thumb. How did he ask her about it? How did he find out what he wanted to know without prying into her business?
"I overhead what you said to Andrea," he finally blurted out.
There was a moment of silence where the darkness consumed him and he felt the panic overwhelm him. And then she sighed.
"Oh." He waited for her to say more, but she didn't. She just sat there, looking down at her hands intertwined with each other. Her silence was eating at him.
"What do ya mean 'oh'?" She chewed her bottom lip, and looked up at him, picking at a loose string on her shirt.
"You weren't supposed to hear that." No shit he wasn't supposed to. He just happened to be there at that time. And now he couldn't take it back. He heard it, he knew how he heard it, and he couldn't forget it. And he needed to know.
"Well I did. And it sure as hell sounded like you meant it." She sighed again, letting her chin fall to her chest.
"It doesn't matter. It's up to Andrea now," she said, sounding so defeated.
"You told Andrea to kill a man. In cold blood." He found himself standing before the bed suddenly, shins bumping the frame again and he couldn't stop his voice from getting louder. He'd never thought Carol would be the one to suggest somethin' so violent. Not her.
"You Carol." She flinched as she stared back into his eyes. "That matters."
"No it doesn't!" She shrieked, biting on her tongue at the last minute to stop her outburst from echoing against the walls. He took a step back, surprised by her sudden outburst as he listened to her voice carry through the prison. He couldn't help but stare at her, as she clenched her fists in her lap and bit back a sob, her face contorted in pain.
"Why'd you tell Andrea to do that?" he asked softly, takin' hesitant steps back.
She curled her knees to her chest, leaning against the wall at her back.
"I…" her voice caught, and he felt his chest constrict. She sounded like she was gonna cry, and he didn't know if he could handle that. His back hit the wall and he didn't know what the hell to do. He wanted to sit down and do somethin', but he wanted to turn right back around and run away too.
"Because I-I've thought…" she pulled the sheet up around her legs, and turned her face away from him. She was avoiding him. Avoiding talkin' to him about this. But just today she had no problem tellin' Andrea what to do with the Governor. That fuckin' hurt. He thought they were friends. He thought they were somethin'.
"You can tell Andrea but ya can't tell me?" Her head snapped up at him like he'd hurt her, and that made his stomach twist.
"Because I couldn't do it!" she bit out, stopping herself from screaming out again. He flinched like she'd physically hit him. But she didn't notice. She was so caught in the past now he wouldn't doubt if she didn't even notice he was still there.
"All those years he beat me, and he treat me like shit," she whispered, curling the sheets tightly in her hands. "All those years he looked at Sophia like she was something…something else and I couldn't do it." He watched as a single tear slipped down her cheek and she choked back a sob. She looked at him, held his gaze, the blue shining in pain.
"I let that monster live everyday knowing that he would keep on hitting me, and making me do things that I didn't want to, and treating Sophia like she wasn't there except to look at her like she was." She wrapped her arms around her knees, hugging them tightly to her chest.
"I used to think about it," she murmured, letting her head fall back against the wall, closing her eyes, "about killing him." She swallowed hard and he watched her throat bob.
"I used to stand at the end of the bed; sometimes holding the kitchen knife."
"Ya know, I just wanna kill'em. Just wanna take mah switch blade and cut his neck wide open."
He swallowed hard, swallowed back the rush of emotions. This wasn't home. Not him, not Merle. He pushed against the wall at his back, the concrete cold against his skin. Carol kept talkin', kept pulling further into herself.
"Sometimes it was one of Ed's old army blades."
"Sometimes I dream 'bout takin' the ol' man's Ka-Bar out that there fuckin' wall and just shovin' it down his fuckin' throat. See how he likes the taste a that steel."
He dragged his nails against the wall. He needed to breathe. Needed to know that this was now and not then. He took a step forward, needed something to pull him to this moment. To take him away from the past.
"Sometimes I just stood there and watched him sleep, and imagined myself just strangling him for once."
He stopped breathing, struck so hard by her words that he physically bent forward, unable to hold himself up. Strangle him. For once. She'd been strangled before. She'd been strangled. She'd been.
He had to bite his lip until it bled, and until he almost broke through the skin until he was sure he wouldn't run from the room, and he was sure he wouldn't scream out in rage.
"I wanted to make him suffer," she whispered softly, suddenly. And he felt the weight of her words come crashing down on him.
"What bout you lil brother?" Daryl didn't say anything at first. Just watched Merle knock back another beer. But then Merle looked up at him, expectantly, and he knew that just watchin' his daddy die wouldn't be enough.
Not after what he'd done to them.
"I'd make him suffer," he responded softly.
His throat closed up. He'd wanted to kill his ol' man so many years ago. He forgot that day. Forgot how deep that hate of his had gone. He'd wanted to make him suffer for all the things he'd done to him an' Merle. But he'd never done it.
She didn't know it, but it was there; that connection of them. He walked toward the bed, unable to stop until his legs knocked the metal frame.
She looked up at him desperately, reached out to take his hand and clutched at it desperately.
"I used to think I could do it!" she whispered breathlessly. "I used to give him the night of his life, as if it was everything I had to offer." He felt himself recoil inside at the thought of Carol offering herself up to a man like Ed.
His jaw ached at the way he clenched it. Ed deserved his death, a fuckin' thousand times over.
But he couldn't back away. He couldn't pull his hand from hers; not when she was gripping him like she needed him so badly.
"I'd give him whatever he wanted." He could see in her eyes the weight of that; just what she would give him. There was a desperate sorrow in her eyes that he didn't want to see, didn't want to know. But he was seeing it, and he did need to know. "And then I'd lie there, feeling disgusted with myself, and I would say you can do this. You can do this." Tears fell down her cheeks, unashamed.
He couldn't find the right way to breathe. He could see her in his mind; frightened, scared, weak. Standing at the end of a bed meant for two, holding some stupid fuckin' household item, and tremblin' it. And unable to do it.
Clutching at the idea that if she could just do it then it would all be over. Then she and Sophia would be free of the pain and the suffering that they'd had to suffer all those years.
"But I couldn't do it," she cried softly, burying her face to her knees, still clutching to his hand, "I couldn't kill him. I lay next to him every goddamn night and listened to his heavy drunken breathing, feeling the disgust of his body over mine and wanted, prayed for him to never wake up in the morning." She looked up at him, eyes glistening with tears.
He couldn't explain the sudden anger that suddenly consumed him.
"And each morning, he did," she sobbed, her body shaking now.
His legs twitched with the need to run. He had to escape. He couldn't stand looking at Carol's cryin' face. Couldn't take the pain in her eyes. How many times had he seen that look on Merle, how many times had he felt that himself?
How many times had he wanted to kill his ol' man for hurtin' him beyond repair?
But...that was okay, wasn't it? It was okay to want to hurt the people who made you suffer.
It had to be. Otherwise, how else would they have survived until now.
He wouldn't have. And Carol probably wouldn't have neither.
"It's okay," he murmured softly, gripping her hand back. Her head jerked up, eyes blinking fast.
"What?" Her chest heaved, and she clutched at his fingers even tighter now, her hand trembling in his. He swallowed hard, watching as she grasped at the sudden hope he was giving her. He'd never known he was capable of that. Of giving someone hope. "What?" she said again.
It had to be okay. It had too. Otherwise, they wouldn't be here. And he would keep telling himself that.
He sat down on the bed next to her, slowly. He didn't know if this was right, or if he could do this or if she wanted him to do this. But he couldn't just walk away from her; not now when she needed someone.
"It's okay," he whispered, reaching up to wipe away at the tears on her face. The silence was thick between them for a moment, and then her bottom lip trembled.
"Daryl," she murmured and the tears fell down her cheeks again, and he panicked, thinking he'd done something wrong when he thought he'd done something right.
"It's just the fuckin' darkness," he whispered desperately, wishin' for her tears to stop. He couldn't stand to see her cry. "The darkness in our hearts."
He could remember Merle tellin' him bout the dark hearts of the world, how everyone had'em. "We all got darkness in us," he said, repeating Merle's words like he were right there with him. "Just whether ya let it consume ya, or not."
Course, Merle never said that but no one had to know. That was somethin' he believed. He'd never killed no one before. Not with that anger in his heart. And Carol never had before neither. She may a wanted too, but she didn't.
"Yer okay," he whispered, rubbing his thumb along the back of her hand, holdin' onto those blue eyes a hers.
She looked as if she were about to say something but then didn't. She just let her head fall forward to settle against his shoulder. Another sob escaped her, and her shoulders shook.
He froze, unsure of what to do. Her hand was still tangled with his, her head against his shoulder. She was closer than he would have wanted. His heart was pounding fast in his chest, and his skin tingled.
He didn't like the way his body responded to her. He didn't like not knowing what it was doing.
But this was Carol, and she needed him, needed this. So he just sat there, and let her be comforted by whatever he was doing right.
"Thank you," she mumbled, taking in a shuddering breath.
He breathed, and squeezed her fingers tight in his, feeling the soft callouses of her hand. She buried her face in his shoulder, her breath rushing over his skin.
"Thank you." And he just rested his chin on her head, hesitantly, letting his thumb run circles across the back of her hand. Something he found comforting as well.
A/N: I'm still working on my other fics, and several other prompts. Just, life is kicking my ass.
Thanks for reading!