If Tomorrow Wasn't Such a Long Time

As always thank you all for following. I'm getting so many ideas I'm having a feels session with this fic. I love it and I hope you all enjoy this too. What to say... Nope not a thing. Just enjoy. As always read and review!

Also: I own nothing in regards to The Walking Dead. All rights belong to the copyright holder.

Chapter 8

"I'll take watch."

Rick quirked a curious eyebrow at the pacing redneck; his eyes never leaving Daryl's form. His bangs clung to his forehead from the sweat that streaked down his temples, his eyebrows knitted together in frustration. His fist clenched at his side, fingers gripping the crossbow strap with a death-like vice. Grease rag in his pocket flipping back and forth as he stalked up and down the cabin. "I started watch an hour ago, Daryl. I think-"

"I said I'd take watch. Now go on. I got it covered." He snapped, an edge in his tone. There was urgency in his voice that demanded his request be acquiesced. He'd never asked for anything in the past year or so he'd been with the group. Besides of course to see Merle when they'd heard he was in Woodbury, which he'd declined. Rick knew in that moment that he was forcing Daryl to pick the group over Merle and he had just as he had expected, but that plan had gone south quickly. If Daryl was demanding something, there would be hell to pay and Rick figured a break from watch would do him some good.

Without another word spoken between the two, Rick nodded his head at Daryl and left him be. Daryl listened as the door shut from down below and the gate scratched against the gravel path. The endless noise drowning his thoughts. He let out a long sigh he had not realized he'd been holding. He needed this solitude right now. He desired no one's presence but the vast open of nothing before him. He needed to be alone.

Daryl propped his crossbow up against the wall nearest the door. He moved to the guard rail and looked down. The drop was far below. Probably 50 feet at most. His eyes slowly wandered towards the gate where the walkers lumbered against, dragging their fingers along the chain-links causing a racket most nights. He huffed and slumped to the floor. He kicked his legs out over the edge of the guard tower so his feet dangled in mid air. He crossed his arms over the rail and rest his head in the crook of his arms.

He felt like he was a kid again sitting in the old tire swing that was down the road from his childhood home. Daryl remembered how his legs were never long enough for him to kick himself back on his own. He required the aide of Merle in order to get a good swing. Oftentimes, Merle would push it so hard Daryl would somersault out of the tire landing on his back, wind knocked from his lungs, feet sprawled up in the air, eyes crisscrossing from the tumble. Merle would rush over to make sure his baby brother was all right and sure enough Daryl would want another go at it. A giant grin would spread across Merle's face and the two would take turns trying to push the other as hard as their arms could muster.

He bit his lip and felt the corners of his mouth tug into a scowl. He could feel the tears welling up and he quickly bit down on his lip harder trying to keep himself from dwelling on his brother's death, on the memories they had once shared.

He buried his face in his arms, wiping his eyes furiously against them. He couldn't mourn Merle. He never would have wanted him to act a child over his death. Merle would have wanted him to take a shot of whiskey and slam the glass on his grave calling it a 'fabulous ride'. He wished he had a cigarette or two to keep his thoughts preoccupied. Smoking a smooth flavored cigarette could calm his nerves before the world ended. Now, things were different. Now he actually had to deal with the events that transpired. He couldn't hide away like he was so used to doing. Daryl rubbed his eyes, trying to rid them of the tears he'd cried.

He quickly disregarded his previous thoughts trying to bottle his emotions and went back to watching the world continue on without him. Just sat and watched as the walkers moved about the grounds: hissing and snarling, rattling the fence. Listened to the rustle and snapping in the woods. The gentle shake of the trees from the light breeze that cascaded over the Georgia land. He could feel the goose pimples rise on his skin and the hairs start to stand up. He regretted having not grabbed a jacket or at least his poncho on his way out of his cell. He had been in such a hurry to tuck tail and run in that moment he had not thought of where he was headed to until he found himself at the base of the guard tower. He couldn't go back now. She'd still be there.

He shut his eyes burying his face in his arms once more.

"Fuck me." He hissed.

He could have killed her. Carol could have been stabbed in the head had she gotten any closer to him in that moment. He could have sliced her nose off or worse. He had seen the blood. Its bright red color oozing from her cut and he'd been out of sight in a flash. The mere thought that he had caused her to bleed sent a sickening shudder through his body. It may have been a simple light graze across her cheek but his thrust had been so cruel and fast. Things could have gone so awry and there would have been no one to blame but himself.

His heart ached. He felt ashamed. He felt empty. Merle's lifeless pale eyes flashed before him and a pain shot through his heart. His hand flew to his chest trying to ease the pang. He felt the muscles in his heart constrict, a sharp pain causing him to let out a shuddering exhale. The muscles in his neck went taut and it hurt to breathe. He felt like he was being suffocated, strangled really by his own body. Slowly the pain subsided and his breathing relaxed once more.

"Daryl... Are you OK?"

The soft snick of the door behind him brought him back from the tortures his mind was bringing him. His head snapped up to see Carol standing over him. Her cut had been cleaned and dressed with a fresh band-aid placed where it couldn't viciously remind him that he had been the cause. Daryl hurriedly looked away. He just wanted to hide. Curl up and hide away from her. He was ashamed and she knew it. He pulled his shoulders up higher and buried his face deeper into his arms

"I'm fine." He retorted. Though muffled, his voice was distinctly gravelly and harsh.

She frowned slightly but didn't object to his statement. Carol displaced her weight to her other foot, nodding her head. She looked down to the item she held in her hand, fidgeting with the hem. She opened her mouth, and then shut it, thinking better of what to say. She batted her eyelashes, averting her attention to her feet.

"Here," She said finally, holding out his shirt with the stitched leather sleeves after several seconds of silence.

Daryl looked over his shoulder and saw his shirt offered to him. He looked at Carol whose gaze fell to the item in hand and then back to him. A slight look of plea crossed her features as she offered it to him once more. Daryl silently relented. He graciously took it from her hands quickly looking back out towards the woods and shrugged it on. It was warm. She must have been clutching it tight to her chest because it still had her body heat in the fibers. He heard her move and take a seat next to him.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see her with her back against the rails, knees drawn up, arms resting on them, nose hidden in the sleeves of her jacket. Just her pale blue eyes peeked behind the woolen coat, moonlight catching their glow.

He looked away. Preoccupying his gaze with an owl sitting in the tree far across the way. It's hooting echoing over the expansive field. It was probably communicating with a fellow owl or perhaps searching for something.

Daryl gave a gentle swing to his legs as they dangled above the nothingness. The weightlessness seemed to ease his mind a bit, but Carol's presence made him nervous. He wasn't sure what to expect from her, whether he should expect anything at all. What did she want? Hadn't he already caused her enough grief for one day? Why did she come to him? Was she not afraid of him? Afraid that he may hurt her again?

He heard her softly sigh and she shifted a bit in her position.

"When Sophia went missing... All I could think of was: my poor baby. All alone in the woods. Lost. What could I have done to keep her safe? All I had to do was keep an eye on her. I couldn't even do that." Carol paused. She let out a sharp breathe then continued. "She was my punishment for being happy that Ed was gone, that I no longer had to worry about him hurting me or my Sophia... I was angry with God that He could be that cruel. To take her away from me as He did." She said quietly.

Daryl sat. Listening intently. His words stung. He hadn't meant to be so cruel to her that day, but she had pushed him to that edge where he couldn't withhold his bite. She'd hurt him just as he had hurt her. Carol looked to Daryl. He could feel her eyes on him. Her gaze burned a hole into the side of his head and he knew she was making him uncomfortable. He knew what she was getting at. These were things they didn't speak of. Things they left unspoken.

"I'm afraid... Of you Daryl. Afraid for you." She whispered. He could hear her stifle a sob.

Daryl chewed his lip. "It's OK... If you're scared." He croaked and peered over his shoulder after several seconds of silence. He wasn't sure if he could loose the words from his throat. Carol looked back at him. Their eyes met. His eyes lingered for a moment searching her features for some reaction and feeling uncomfortable with the gesture, Daryl looked away. There was an understanding, despite his awkwardness. Carol acknowledging her fear of him relieved him. He didn't want her to put up a front and pretend she wasn't afraid of him. That only proved she wasn't foolish, that she was as strong as he thought she was.

"Daryl… are you scared?" Asked Carol quietly.

He nodded. She may not have seen him do it, but she could hear the movement of the fabric of his jacket as he acknowledged her question. "Always."

They sat in silence once more. The owl let out a shrill screech as it took off. Daryl could hear the loud beating of the owl's wings as it gained speed and swooped down in the brush, talons outstretched. A spastic squeak blurted out of the brambles and the owl soared up with its meal in its claws.

Carol broke the silence. "You've kept me going. You gave me strength when no one else did. You gave me hope. Always have."

Daryl adjusted. He took the grease rag that lay next to his pocket in his hands and played with the corner of the cloth, flipping it back and forth between his fingers. He heard what she was saying, but... The words were foreign to him. He couldn't wrap his head around her praise. His Daddy never praised him. Those were words that never fell into his vocabulary. Carol and he sat silently once more. Daryl wasn't sure if she was waiting on him for a response. If she was, he would never give one. Didn't know what to say really. Didn't know if he should thank her or decline her statement as false.

He sighed, swallowing the lump in his throat. Talks like these made him anxious. Like he was expected to say something that would turn the tide of the conversation. Like he could give more meaning to the conversation by speaking a few words. He didn't have anything to add. He never did. He stopped fidgeting with the rag and went back to the comfort of the guard rail. Resting his head on his left arm that held the rail possessively. Right hand palming the ground next to his pocket.

"You've always believed in me, Daryl."

His eyes widened as he felt her hand on his. Her soft warm skin burning the top of his hand. He jerked his hand away closer to his side. Daryl cocked his head to look over at her. She didn't look at him. She simply sat nose turned up, gazing at the starry blanket above their heads. Carol's expression never changed. She sat stoic, eyes bright in the night.

She reached out again. Daryl didn't flinch away. He let her fingers curl over his hand, her thumb rubbing over his rough knuckles. Her delicate touch running over every cut, scrape and scar on his hand.

He understood.

Daryl and Carol sat in silence. Neither spoke a word. He took comfort in the quiet and the gentle touch of her hand on his. He needed this.

The loud bang of a sniper rifle jolted Carol upright from where she had been sleeping. The sun's bright rays burned through Carol's eye lids as she was rudely awakened from her slumber. She sat back realizing she was in the guard tower cabin. She'd been wrapped up in Daryl's jacket she'd brought to him earlier that night. She yawned and stretched out, gently rubbing her eyes and rolling the kinks out of her stiff neck. She shrugged his jacket over her shoulders and exited the cabin.

Rick stood at the corner of the tower, sniper rifle drawn up looking out towards the woods. He thumbed a new bullet into the chamber and closed the ejection port.

"He didn't want to wake you."

"How thoughtful." She remarked.

Carol pulled the jacket closer to her body as she moved next to Rick, the morning chill sending a violent rattle though her bones. She laughed to herself as she swam in Daryl's jacket. Despite him being slim in stature, it was hard to forget his broad shoulders filled the jacket with ease.

"Is he going to be OK?" Rick hesitantly asked. He glanced to Carol, concern in his face.

Carol waited. She bit her bottom lip gently. "No, he's not." She responded. Her eyes scanned the tree-line. She could see rustling in the distance.

Rick nodded and shifted his weight back and forth uncomfortably. He needed Daryl to be at his best if need be for the meeting with the Governor. He couldn't have him with his head clouded with things. They all had to be on point.

Rick felt Carol place a hand on his arm. He looked to her. "Just let him deal with it on his own. He'll come back to us."

"I hope you're right."

Carol looked towards the tree line. She could see the flicker of a brightly colored arrow zipping through the woods. It met its mark in the body of a squirrel stuck to the tree it had been climbing. She watched as Daryl stalked closer towards it, ramming his knife in the skull of a walker attempting to steal the meal. He swiftly kicked its body away and claimed the squirrel hooking it next to the trope of squirrels dangling from his belt.

Daryl looked up towards where she and Rick stood. He put a hand to his eyes, shielding the sun from his view. They made eye contact. Carol smiled and raised her hand acknowledging that she saw him. He dipped his head to her and went tramping back into the woods.

"Daryl will come back. He's all alone now. We are all he has left now." She whispered.

Side note: I started writing this chapter immediately after "Arrow on the Doorpost" so seeing the finale with Carol and Daryl I was spazzing out hardcore. Just clarifying I did not take the idea from the season finale.