If Tomorrow Wasn't Such a Long Time
Well I think I may have gotten things rolling a bit with Caryl. Slow burn is slow and I'm trying not to drag this out terribly so. Anywho, this chapter is definitely straying from the show. Hope you all enjoy it. As always review!
Thanks to the guest who reviewed. I loved that line too. I could imagine her sitting there all irritated wanting to smack him and knew I had to include that. And thanks to the other guest who reviewed. Side note: I tend to add new chapters every week to two weeks, but with the feels of last weeks episode I may expedite that. So be prepared!
Also: I own nothing in regards to The Walking Dead. All rights belong to the copyright holder.
Chapter 6
Daryl had been in and out of consciousness most of the night he'd laid out in the gravel between the two fences. The walkers had started collecting where he had collapsed from exhaustion all snarling and snapping to get at his warm flesh. His clothes and stains on his hands from the blood probably drew the walkers to him.
He would chuckle to himself as he lay. To the walkers he was a tantalizing morsel merely out of reach just silently taunting them. At the same token it bothered him that they were driven on instinct to do nothing but consume and destroy. What an abhorrent existence. He clutched at his side where he'd been impaled with one of his bolts before. He cursed under his breath. The slightest movement or touch would send him reeling in pain. His bolt wound had long since been healed, however, Daryl had received a new set of wounds in its place.
Daryl hovered in and out of a listless sleep. With each jerk of his body to keep it from falling asleep, he would catch small transitions of the sky from night to day. The sun had warmed his body when he felt a nudge to his boot. His eyes had snapped open and he'd drawn his bow up in one swift motion. Rick stood with a quizzical look on his face as if Daryl had come back from the dead. Daryl dropped the bow and fell on his back in the gravel, panting from the heat and sudden movement.
"Shit... Y'all're still alive?" He gasped. In all honesty, Daryl hadn't even been sure if the next morning he would see any of his Atlanta group mates. The Governor had been on a warpath and he had not been remotely sure if he had struck and took everyone out or if some way, somehow they had survived and staved off attack. Regardless, the prison was the only place left he could go back to and so he had waited.
"You aren't bit are you?" Rick asked hesitantly ignoring his question, as he motioned to the blood on Daryl's hands and shirt with the Colt Python.
Daryl glanced at him and shook his head. "If I was, you actually gonna shoot me?" Rick nodded as he put his finger to the hammer and carefully pulled it back. "No... I ain't bit. Good lord, can't y'all take a damned joke?" He huffed. Rick loosed the hammer back in position and holstered his gun.
A sigh escaped Daryl's lips. He actually believed if he had told Rick he was bit he would have shot him on the spot with no questions asked. What had happened to them since he had been gone to drive him to be so ruthless in his actions?
Rick had fallen to his knees, his hand was at his temple and began mumbling something under his breath. Daryl lifted his head from the ground and saw Rick knelt next to him. He carefully propped himself up on his elbows watching him. Rick looked to Daryl and put a hand to his shoulder. They made eye contact.
They both looked like hell. There was a distinct vacancy in Rick's expression, almost like there was a small spit of life that lacked in them. Daryl was bloodied, dirty, and wounded. He felt partly responsible that he had left his friends to suffer what had happened to them. His hand had been forced that day. He had tried reasoning with them to have Merle stay, but they wouldn't have it. So Daryl and Merle had set off on their own, just like it had always been before Atlanta.
Daryl broke eye contact and looked away. The way Rick looked at him... It made him uneasy. After a moment the uneasiness subsided. Rick gently clapped him on the shoulder and whispered, "You've got impeccable timing."
"Ain't like I planned this." He rasped.
Rick let go of Daryl's shoulder and looked towards the prison. The guard tower was empty. He had been on watch when he'd seen an unusual collection of walkers huddled against one portion of the fence. Not thinking much of it, Rick had left post to investigate the sudden flux. He had been stunned to find the bloodied redneck laying on the ground half conscious inside their fence. Rick figured the day Daryl and Merle had set off would be the last he would ever see of him. He didn't expect to find him half dead waiting to be let into the prison any time soon.
"You gon' help me up or what?" Daryl asked interrupting Rick's thoughts as he struggled to his feet, squirrel skins swaying from his hip as he used the cocking stirrup on his crossbow as leverage to stand.
Rick promptly got to his feet and helped lift Daryl up.
"Ah! Easy on the waist, hoss. Think I broke somethin' there." Daryl hissed through clenched teeth. Rick had accidentally squeezed Daryl by the waist to help steady him. Rick quickly let go and adjusted by slinging Daryl's arm around his shoulders acting as a crutch as they walked together back to the prison.
"What happened to you?" Asked Rick. "You look like hell."
Daryl gnashed his teeth. His bag had nudged his side. "Geek horde overran our camp..."
"That's enough." Whispered Rick. There was nothing more that needed to be said.
"Did the Governor make his move?" asked Daryl.
Rick nodded. "Yeah, we lost Axel. There were... others, but... we're safe… 'till we can figure out a new plan of action."
"Sorry…" drawled Daryl after several seconds of silence. Rick stopped walking and cocked his head to the left to look at Daryl. Their eyes met.
"I'm not going to say that what you did was the smartest move, but you did what you had to. I respect that. Not so sure about the rest of them, but I understand. Carol, too. She knew, just like you said." Replied Rick and motioned to start their walk again.
Daryl couldn't help but grimace the entire journey back to the prison. His side was just one giant open bruise. Any slight brushing or touching sent him reeling in pain. He didn't complain though. Daryl felt obligated to withhold any complaint of pain he had. From the route they were taking back to the prison block they stayed in, it seemed there had been a lot of losses for them. He had noticed walkers aimlessly meandering the field they had cleared their first night here.
He saw the bus where he'd taken watch their first night. It was shot up with bullet holes. Large blood stains covered patches of it as if it had been used for cover. He recalled Carol bringing him food. Him gently rubbing her shoulder she had hurt when holding the rifle. He hadn't thought about it, just motioned to do it without asking. Carol making constant eye contact with him. The way she had looked at him made him antsy and it had gotten under his skin enough to warrant him to excuse their privacy for the comfort of the group. She'd puckered her lips at this and jokingly prodded that what he'd done had been romantic.
"Wanna screw around?" She'd playfully asked.
Daryl had laughed it off trying to hide his discomfort in the situation. He wasn't used to advances from women, let alone how to court them. He wasn't quite sure if Carol was genuinely kidding or if she was serious. He couldn't quite tell with Carol. He'd started down the bus first to help her down, when she remarked that her view had been even better.
"Stop." He'd firmly replied. Carol giggled. She could do that to him without receiving a verbal reprimand. Daryl had grown accustomed to her joking and cold truths. He admired that in her. There were still things they just didn't talk about which was fine, but at times they seemed to be the large pink elephants in the room. And for that purpose he felt afraid to be as open with her as she was with him. Daryl couldn't be open. He didn't know how. The only thing he knew to do was be honest and pragmatic. Oftentimes this drew about conflict.
As they made their way up to the prison, Daryl and Rick came across Maggie and Glenn on their way to the guard tower. Glenn's soft expression hardened and he made long strides past the pair. Maggie simply did nothing, just solemnly followed after Glenn, her eyes set at Glenn's feet. She never looked up. Daryl arched an eyebrow at Rick who shot him a questionable "I told you so" glance.
"Mighty cheerful those two." He drawled.
"Suppose they haven't worked things out for themselves just yet either. Surprised they're even occupying the same space."
"Why's that?"
"Governor stripped Maggie half-naked and slammed her face into a table. Not sure what else happened after, but he did enough damage for the two to be at each others' throats since Woodbury."
Daryl straightened himself up mid-stride. He could feel his blood boil at the thought of one of his own group-mates being assaulted in such a manner. It sickened him just as it had when Randall had talked of the two teenaged daughters his camp had come across. He had no tolerance for such filth. She may not have had any blood ties to him, but it didn't mean he hadn't grown to care for these people. "Gov'nor's gonna get his real soon." He hissed.
Rick nodded. "We'll see soon enough. We've seen Andrea. The two of 'em have been bedding down. She's arranged a meeting with the Governor to discuss a truce. I need you with me that day."
Daryl nodded. "Understood." He stated and unhooked Rick's arm from around his waist. His gait wasn't as fluid due to his bruising and cuts, but he managed to make his way without Rick's help the rest of the way to the prison doors. Slight limp in his step.
Rick opened the doors and led Daryl inside, setting his bags at the bottom of the steps. "I'll leave you to settle in. I'm gonna go check up on Glenn and Maggie. Need to set them straight about things."
Daryl nodded and watched as Rick went back outside. He stood for a while welcoming the coolness of the prison. He could feel his body begin to cool down after being stuck out in the heat for so long. He was thirsty. He hadn't realized how parched his throat was. He'd tried hard to ration the remaining bit of water he had but the Georgia sun was relentless and cruel. Didn't care if you'd only been out under its gaze for a few seconds, its rays beat down upon its prey with a vicious bite.
Knowing his bags wouldn't move themselves, Daryl picked them up one at a time and made his way through the chow-hall and into their sleeping quarters of the cell block.
Carol stared in disbelief. Daryl stood before her. She rubbed her eyes and blinked several times, thinking she'd dreamed him to life.
No, this was real.
Daryl was standing before her. His hair sticking up in crazed licks. He was more starved than usual and skinnier compared to when she had last seen him. His cheeks had been fuller, his arms less thin and the hollows of his eyes less defined. A new scar was in the process of healing across his forearm and a small one already healed defined itself across his right cheekbone, blood coated his fingernails and a large dirt smudge streaked across his nose and down his neck. Flecks of blood littered his entire body and there was a new rip in his jeans at his left inner thigh. For lack of better words, Daryl had seen better days.
Carol gawked as Daryl stood awkwardly in the cell block unsure of why she stared so hard at him. It was like she was trying to discern if he was actually there. He didn't like that in the least bit. It made him anxious. Carol took a hesitant step forward, but then stopped when he flinched backing away from her. She couldn't control herself. She could feel herself on the verge of tears as she took another step forward then sprang into a sprint towards Daryl. She was happy but at the same time so angry.
She had spent the better portion of the past few weeks or so worrying to death about whether he was OK, or if he would ever come back. Each day felt like it would never end. Carol would tell herself: tomorrow. He'll come back tomorrow and apologize for leaving as he did. But he never came back. Not 'till now.
Carol furrowed her eyebrows at him feeling the anger surge through her as she got close; she began beating her fist into his chest. She frenziedly struck as hard as she could, catching him off guard. He quickly grabbed her wrists to keep her from hitting him any harder. Daryl's grip was loose. He didn't intend to restrain her by means of force and in consequence hurt her. He just wanted her to stop.
"The hell's your problem lady?" He grunted trying to hold her arms still. It wasn't exactly the reunion he was anticipating. Daryl knew she would either be happy or extremely pissed... and it had been the latter. Their eyes met. A fire burned in Carol's blue doe-eyed expression. He knew she had understood why he had left, but it didn't mean that she had to accept his leave of absence.
"Was it that easy? Leaving us behind like that?" She really wanted to say: me. Finding out he had gone with Merle no questions asked had hurt her deeply. She'd thought that their group, their family, had meant something more to him. It had, but Daryl had his own set of code to adhere to. She understood that, but she didn't want to accept that it was that easy for him to just pack up and leave. "Was it worth it?" She snapped, wrestling her hands from his grip.
Daryl averted his eyes from Carol's and took a step back letting go of her wrists. He didn't need this right now. He had just gotten back. Alive for one thing and she was already jumping down his throat. Shouldn't she be grateful he even made it back at all? Shouldn't she be happy he kept his promise?
"The fuck you want me ta say? No? Well yer right it wasn't worth it. I watched them geeks tear my brother apart. Asshole did one good thing for me and I couldn't even tell him: thanks, bro." He yelled at Carol with a slight quiver in his tone. The entire time his fist clenched and unclenched at his hip, his breathing was in sharp inhales and slow exhales trying to keep his temper at a low.
Carol's mouth fell agape at what Daryl had just said. His scowl was deep, lip slightly curled into a snarl and sad. The corners of his eyes were beginning to well up. He wasn't even trying to hide the fact that he was crying. From what it seemed, this had been one of the only brotherly things Merle was able to muster out of himself in a last ditched attempt to save his younger brother.
Daryl narrowed his eyes at her. "I don't need this." He growled and stalked off leaving Carol dumbstruck. She was surprised he was even capable of crying in front of her. He was normally so careful with keeping his emotions to himself. It pained her to see him in such anguish.
Carol collected herself and hesitated after him. "Daryl... Please don't go."
Daryl's head snapped to her and he quickly shot back, "Why? So you can use me for a punchin' bag again? Didn't expect that from the likes of you. Figured you'd gotten yer fair share of licks from yer husband." He shook his head at her, hurriedly wiping his eyes and began walking away again.
Carol started after him. His words cut into her, but he was right. She was lashing out at him and he had just dealt with immense physical and emotional pain. Daryl was drained, defeated. You couldn't not see it in his eyes or the way he held himself. Carol ran to him and pulled him into a hug. Her arms wrapping around his slim waist, head brushed up against his strong back. She could feel his body go completely rigid at her touch. Daryl didn't loosen up. He unwound her arms from him.
"You think tryin' to come onta me like that is gonna make me feel better? I ain't like that." He said coolly. Daryl's stare was sharp and unflinching.
Carol glared at him perturbed that he would think something so callous. "So then what are you like, Daryl? Hmm? Because frankly I'm tired of being your bleeding heart. I don't know what you think of me, whether I'm just some burden you took upon yourself to watch over or if you actually care about me at all."
"Dammit woman. What the hell do you want from me? Huh? Ain't it enough that I'm alive?" He yelled. "That I even came back at all?"
This took Carol aback. Daryl was right. Wasn't it enough? That he was alive? She focused so much on him being gone that she failed to realize things could have turned out worse. He may not have returned at all and they could have found him dead in a ditch or worse... One of the walking dead. Here Daryl was though: alive albeit exhausted, famished and wounded.
"Everyone needs to crawl out of my ass already about me leavin'. I had no choice. Y'all had no right to even ask me to choose. Now that, I didn't ask for that." He dourly replied.
Carol looked at Daryl. Actually looked at him. He was an open wound and she was just adding the salt over and over again. This wasn't how she had wanted to confront him again. Carol had hoped it would be on more casual terms, but that hadn't been the case at all. Instead she had unleashed all her pent-up rage on him, striking him like it had been his fault. Daryl wasn't the one to blame and neither was it really Merle's fault either. Glenn had been the one to push Daryl to choose one or the other. He should never have done that.
Carol made a move towards him. Daryl stepped back. A cross look creeping into his features. He was starting to pull away from her again. His instincts to keep everyone at bay was something she had thought he'd long done away with having been more integrated into the group. She supposed that would be a hard trait to outright ignore if it were so engrained into that person.
She took another step towards him again. This time Daryl stood his ground. Carol reached out to Daryl's forehead and moved his sweaty bangs out of his face, her fingers delicately caressing his cheek and tracing a path to the scar beneath his eye. He'd flinched but didn't outright move from the touch. She cupped his cheek into her hand, her thumb gently stroking the scar. The look in his eyes changed. The ferocity that burned within them flickered out and there was a certain sadness that lingered in place.
She saw the cracks in his tough exterior. Was it really that hard to just let go and be open with her? After all they had been through together? Suddenly she felt Daryl rest his cheek into her hand. As he shut his eyes several tears came streaking down his cheeks. She could feel the taut muscle of his jaw clenching beneath her fingers.
"I'm sorry." she said, pulling him into an embrace as she slipped her hand behind his neck. Daryl tried to squirm out of the hold but gave up realizing that she wasn't trying to patronize him or hurt him. Carol was genuinely trying to comfort him. Daryl stood limply in Carol's arms as she gently rubbed the nape of his neck with her fingers, her cheek pressed against his stubbled chin. Her other arm wrapped around his back tracing long curves along the stitched angel wings on his vest. She could feel him wince beneath her hands and she quickly pulled away.
"Are you hurt?" She immediately asked, concern ebbing into her tone.
Daryl grimaced slightly and nodded. "Merle kicked my ass out of a farm house. Gave me a boot to the back and out a window. Pretty sure I fell on a rock or somethin' on my way down."
"You need to see Hershel." She commanded, taking Daryl by the hand and pulling him into the mess-hall. She led him to the table and motioned for him to sit. He obeyed.
"I'll go get him. Just stay here." As quickly as she'd said it, Carol was gone in search of Hershel.
Daryl sat at the table, arms loosely crossed across his chest, leg propped on his knee. He winced in pain but bit back the yelp it elicited from his lips.
"Son of a bitch." He growled under his breath.
Daryl shut his eyes. The prison was always brightest at this time of day. The light hurt his eyes causing him to squint half the time he was out. He disliked that about having such fair colored eyes. He'd always had a sensitivity to the light and tried to keep a pair of sunglasses with him when possible, but being the way the world was, such luxuries were few and far between. He disliked that about Georgia with its harsh sun beating on you all hours of the day, but despite that he loved her woods and all it had to offer him.
As Daryl began to relax, left to his thoughts he found himself drifting off to sleep. He had forgotten how tired and exhausted he had been the past few days. He welcomed sleep.