Chapter 6! I neglected the Caryl aspect quite badly these last couple of chapters; hopefully this will satisfy the Caryl-beast! Reviews addressed at the end, I hope you enjoy!
Rick, Daryl and Michonne had gone with the men back to their camp on the second floor of a parking lot. It was easily defensible, as the only access was the ramp leading up from the ground floor, but damp and cold as the concrete structure prevented much sunlight from reaching them. Most of the children had some sort of cold, and a few adults had the hacking cough that some of the prison group had developed in the leaky cell block B.
The pregnant woman was fussing over a grizzly child when they arrived, and stood over her protectively, handgun drawn.
"It's okay, Sarah." Daniel said. "They're just here to talk."
The rest of Daniel's group had noticed them by now, and were hovering anxiously around the children. They didn't relax even as the rest of the men they had come back with headed for their loved ones, leaving the three strangers to stand next to Daniel.
"This is all of us." Daniel gestured. "We have supplies but this isn't a healthy place for us to stay. Winter's barely kicking in and almost everyone has some sort of cold."
"We had a virus go around at the last place." Michonne said. "Real nasty. People were bleeding out of their eyes and mouths. You seen it?"
"No." Daniel looked worried. "Does your group have it?"
"Naw," Rick cut in. "Some had it, but they recovered."
"Y'all are lookin' to join us?" Daryl squinted, looking menacing. "We ain't based anywhere, an' y'all have kids an' a pregnant woman."
"We need somewhere safe, for them." The fair-haired man replied.
The three glanced at each other. Rick nodded.
"We've got some questions." He warned. "Are you the spokesperson for all of these people?"
"I am." Daniel said solemnly. His group had returned to their previous activities, but they were hushed, continuously tossing unsure looks at them.
"How many walkers have you killed?"
Carol was helping Carl re-pack Judith's diaper bag, but she was distracted. Whenever her hands weren't busy she tapped anxiously on whatever surface she could reach, and when she went to hand Carl Daryl's crossbow she faltered.
"How long have they been gone?" She asked Carl.
He checked his watch. "Not long. They'll be okay; Beth said they looked after her so they must be alright people."
"You're right." Carol agreed, mostly for her own benefit. "Have you seen her yet?"
Carol nodded. "I can't believe she's okay after so long," He said. "I thought she would be dead." He cleared his throat. "Does she seem kinda… Like, weird, to you?"
"She's been through a lot, Carl." Carol said as she hoisted Judith's bag into the car. "We all have. She'll feel better now that she has Maggie back." She pushed a bit of hair back out of his eyes. He scoffed at her but let her fuss over him for a moment.
"What if that other group doesn't end up coming with us? She'll stay with us, right?"
"I hope so, sweetheart. But if they're good people like she says, I think we'd be better off travelling with them, don't you? Safety in numbers."
"Yeah." Carl nodded. "Can I ask you something?" He scuffed his boot along the carpet of the outdoors store.
"Is it serious?" She asked.
"I don't know." He shrugged. "Y'know Daryl?"
"Hmm… Nope!" She teased. "Doesn't ring a bell, sorry."
He rolled his eyes at her. "Are you and him, like, together? It's just, you're always with each other and he doesn't touch anyone as much as you, and you always cheer him up and stuff."
"Oh." Carol smiled at him. "It's not like that. He's my best friend, and I love him dearly, but we just… We're not like that."
Carl hummed at her.
"Why'd you ask?" She questioned curiously.
"You guys always danced around each other at the prison and I thought you were going to get together and I just thought, y'know, almost losing each other might've made it happen?" Carl shrugged, looking embarrassed. "Sorry, I shouldn't have asked."
"No, it's okay." She answered, wrapping an arm around him as they headed over to where the rest of the group was. "It's just a little more complicated than that sometimes."
"I hope you do, Carol." He said seriously. "You make each other smile like Mom and Dad used to… You should get to be happy, you know?"
"You're sweet." She squeezed him. "Let's see what we have for lunch, huh?"
Rick and Michonne returned two hours later, covered in walker gore and dripping with sweat.
"What happened?" Carol panicked. "Where's Daryl?"
"Walkers!" Michonne puffed. "They followed us to the other camp and bunched up outside."
"Are we leaving now? Will they swarm us?" Maggie demanded. "What happened to Daryl?"
"He's doubling back." Rick said, catching his breath. "He's okay, just making sure none followed us here. We took them all out and ran back, nobody panic."
"What about the others?" Beth cut in. "Are they okay?"
"They're fine." Michonne said. "And they check out. They're comin' with us when we go."
Beth sighed in relief and nodded eagerly. "Most of them have some sort'a skill… Jonathan's a blacksmith, Daniel used to be a mechanic, and some of them were teachers and stuff."
"Maybe Daryl went back to check on them." Carol said, much more calmly than she felt. "I'll wait for him. You two should go scrub up." She gestured to Michonne and Rick, who were starting to shiver as their sweat-soaked clothing cooled down in the chill air. They nodded gratefully, still breathing hard, and headed for the bathroom of the stall with a few bottles of water and some washcloths.
Carol began making her way to the back entrance of the store, feeling her way through the neatly-arranged racks. She turned into the short corridor that led to the exit and slid down the wall opposite the door.
He didn't come back for the longest time. She sat, cross-legged, and jabbed at the carpeted floor with her too-blunt knife that he hadn't gotten around to showing her how to sharpen yet.
The sliver of light had stretched and faded with the sunset, and was only just distinguishable when he threw the door open.
"…Carol?" He choked. His breathing was ragged. Not just wheezing, hard puffing, but ragged like his throat was raw, like breathing was painful.
"Jesus, Daryl," She whispered as she clambered to her feet. "What the hell happened?"
He just shook his head, too breathless to speak. "Is… Are they…" He waved one limp hand in the direction of the others, coughing between fractured words.
"Everyone's fine. Rick and Michonne told us what happened."
He visibly relaxed at the mention of the other two having returned safe.
"Are you hurt?" She asked, taking the bloody and bent machete from his floppy grasp and slipping her hand inside his, noticing how it trembled with exertion. He shook his head and wiped at his face as sweat trickled down his hair and stung his eyes. "Come on," She prompted gently. "You have to keep moving, or you'll get cramp."
He allowed her to tow him back towards the others in the lighter section of the store, stumbling a little over his leaden legs and feet. Once they were back and he had caught his breath a little, he explained that he'd doubled back to check on the other group as planned. They'd been fine, but walkers had milled in the side road that led to the back entrance of the outdoors store for almost the length of the block. He'd skidded to a stop but had sent an old dustbin flying, drawing the attention of all of the walkers and he'd run, but found himself cornered in an alleyway.
Effectively, he'd fought his way through about one hundred walkers, armed only with his machete.
Abe had clapped him on the back at that, and his knees had buckled. He dropped onto the floor, almost bringing Carol down with him as he was too exhausted to realise he needed to let go of her hand. He swayed silently on his knees as everyone gaped at him, awed by his epic battle against so many walkers.
"Fuckin' gawking." He muttered, struggling to stand. Carol hauled on his bicep, helping him up. "Need'a wash up." He rasped. Once he was on his feet, Carol went for some bottles of water and clean cloths to scrub up with. He staggered towards the bathroom and she followed him, slipping into the small space behind him and shutting the door to get some more room.
He was leaning on the sink, breathing a little easier. He swallowed and winced, his head hanging with weariness, as his throat burned. She stepped behind him and rubbed his shoulder reassuringly.
"Drink some water." She suggested.
His eyes met hers in the mirror for a moment before she looked away, flustered by his gaze. The weight of the look that passed between them left her feeling oddly weightless at the sheer relief and trust in his eyes. He chugged a few mouthfuls of water and straightened up, rolling his head from side to side experimentally.
"How you were sittin' when I came back?" He croaked. "'S exactly how I was sittin' before I dragged your ass outta the tombs."
"Really?" She asked, surprised.
"Uh huh." He grunted, rubbing his throat with one bloody hand.
She backed up, reaching for a washcloth, when the stark light coming in through the skylight cast the bite mark at the juncture of his neck and shoulder into sharp relief. It had been hard enough to pierce the black leather of his angel vest, but hadn't gone through the inner layer of fabric.
"Shit." She breathed. "Where else are you bit?"
"Wha'?" His eyes widened in panic in his reflection. "I ain't bit!" His hand flew to the exact spot where the bite lay. "I ain't." He repeated. "Am I?" He looked a little dazed.
"Where else?!" She hissed in terror.
He raised both his arms and inspected them, then cautiously felt his neck and the torso of his vest. "I ain't bit." He repeated, more calmly.
She thumped him hard between the shoulder blades, much to his surprise, with her closed fist and burst into tears.
"You fucking ass, Daryl!" She wailed, covering her face with both hands.
He gaped at her reflection. "Aw, shit, Carol." He turned to face her, reaching to wrap her in his arms.
"Take that disgusting jacket off before you even think about it." She growled, her voice muffled by her hands.
He rolled his eyes at her but obediently shrugged off his vest, then his army-surplus jacket that he wore underneath it. The filthy, gore-soaked garments dropped to the floor. His shirt was sweaty and clammy almost instantly in the winter air, but she shuffled into his chest and dropped her face against him. He hugged her tightly despite the screaming protest put up by his back and arm muscles and gave a shaky sigh.
"Gave me one helluva fright." He rasped, sounding like he remembered Merle did coming off a bender. "Your damn fool ass thought I'd let myself get bit?"
"I don't know…" She sniffled, rubbing her cheek against the damp material of his shirt and breathing deeply to calm herself. "Okay, let me go now. We need to get you cleaned up." She tried to back away but he held on to her for an extra moment, resting his cheek against her temple and inhaling deeply. "Daryl, come on." She prompted.
"Can't." He said, and then chuckled exhaustedly. "My muscles are all crampin' up."
She rubbed the broad expanse of his back with her hands, hard enough to dig in to the muscles, and he flinched then sighed again as they released and the warmth spread in the wake of her palms. He flexed his fingers against her back, feeling the spasms across the backs of his hands and shooting pain up his wrists from the fatigue of wielding his machete with such force that the metal bent. He slowly released her, wincing as his entire body burned.
"Okay," She said quietly. "Get that shirt off."
"I can do it." He protested without any energy.
She placed the tip of her pointer finger against his forehead and cocked an eyebrow. He stared at her in confusion until irritation overtook him and he went to bat her hand away. He raised his hand to chest height before stabbing heat radiated up his arm and across his back and chest and he swore viciously. She removed her finger, point made, and pushed him back gently until he was sitting against the hand basin.
"I've seen them, you know." She said lightly. "They're just scars."
"Don' mean they ain't ugly." He said, but made no move to stop her as she began unbuttoning his shirt. She pushed it off his shoulders and eased it right off, gently maneuvering his aching arms out of the sleeves.
The bruise where the walker had bitten him on the shoulder was so deep that individual teeth marks were discernable in the mottled blue and purple skin. She ran her fingertips as lightly as she could over it, and gently inspected the rest of his bruises that littered his torso.
With a damp washcloth, she began at his hairline and wiped the splatters of walker muck away, continuing down around his face, along his jaw, down his neck. He shut his eyes obligingly when she drew the cloth softly across his brow and could not find the energy to open them again, and so he sat, hands folded in his lap, as she worked her way along his collarbone and, after a moments hesitation, over his chest and stomach, patiently letting him jump and flinch at the unexpected touches of the cold cloth against his bruised skin.
He jumped belatedly when she shifted to his right hand, and she gently tickled her fingers up his arm, watching as he only reacted a second or so after she touched him.
"Make a fist with this hand." She instructed.
His hand seemed reluctant to close fully. He opened his eyes and watched in puzzlement as the fingers wouldn't curl past a certain point.
"I think that bite might have pinched a nerve." She told him. "It's in the right place."
He grunted. "Feels kinda numb, hurts in waves." He wriggled his fingers a little.
"It should come right by itself." She gently massaged the muscles of his forearm, moving up to his bicep slowly. Afterwards, she repeated the process of wash, test, and massage on the other arm, testing the reflexes. When she was done, she stood still for a moment, still between his knees, and placed her hands on his shoulders. She squeezed and released a few times and he shut his eyes again.
"Can you just…" He cleared his throat against the rasp in his voice. "Can we stay in here a while? Too sore to get up."
"Poor pookie," She cooed, only partly teasing. "Of course we can."
He pulled her a little closer, surprising her, and laid his head against her collarbone. She stroked his hair and let him hold her slightly too tightly.
"Wasn't sure I was gonna get out." He rasped. "There were so many of 'em."
"You did, though." She soothed. "Of course you did. You're not allowed to leave me alone, okay?"
"I ain't gonna." He sat up, looked her dead in the eye. His hands at her waist flexed a little and he gave her the tiniest shake. "But you gotta stay with me, too. Tell me shit."
"You were on that run, or I would've told you about Karen and David. I would have." She insisted, toying with his hair at the nape of his neck. "I wanted to."
"Just about slugged Rick," He admitted. "Couldn't believe you were just disappeared like that."
"I came back." She stepped closer again and he leaned into her from his perch on the low hand basin. "How about I make you a deal? You come back to me, every time." He nodded against her shoulder. "And I'll warn you next time I plan anything stupid so you can go down with me."
He snickered. "Carol?" He croaked.
"Yes?" She drew it out, stretching the word, giddy with the delight of having him safe and close, all tight hugs and warm, bare skin.
"Y'know I love you, right?" He said, so quietly she strained to hear him.
Her heart stuttered. "I do." She said carefully. "You know I love you back, right?"
"Yeah." He breathed. His breath washed warmly across the skin of her shoulder through the thin material of the shirt she was wearing and she felt tears prickling. "I do."
"Good." She said simply. "Don't ever show up with walker bites on anything even remotely near you again, or I swear I'll take it back."
"You wouldn't." He muttered.
She snorted softly. "I wouldn't." She smiled. "I'll get you something clean to wear." She released him and turned away quickly, hoping he wouldn't notice how much of a wreck the last few hours had made her.
"Are you okay?" Glenn almost pounced on her as she shut the door behind her. "I heard you yelling a while ago."
"I'm okay." She smiled sweetly. "Really. He's just beat up and I was worried about him… So I gave him a piece of my mind."
"Okay." Glenn said. "But he's okay?"
"Exhausted." She shrugged. "In for a world of hurt once his muscles really start protesting, but okay."
"We're staying here for the night. Rick and Michonne sorted it with the other group before they came back, everyone's meeting tomorrow and we're leaving from there."
"So soon?" She asked, looking up from where she was now kneeling and rifling through a bag of clean clothes for a shirt and pants for Daryl.
"The other group wants to get moving. They have, like, eight working cars and we're going to pack everything into them and go looking for somewhere to stay for a while. Out in the country or something." He shifted his weight from foot to foot. "It's going to be good, Carol. I can feel it." He left her then, most likely to find Maggie and Beth.
She smiled at his optimism. He never failed to make her feel better.
She returned to the bathroom and handed Daryl his clothes. The opening door interrupted him mid-stretch as he reached up as high as he could in an effort to loosen out the kinks and aches in his sides and arms, and he let them drop and gave her a shy half-smile.
"Thanks." He managed around his burning throat. "I'm gonna wash up while I got the chance." He gestured to the cloth in the basin.
"Alright." She smiled. "I'll see if I can find something for dinner before the light goes."
He nodded, fidgeting with the wash cloth.
"Are we really leaving the city tomorrow?" She asked. "Heading off into the wilderness?"
"Uh huh. Got a bunch'a cars to put our supplies in an' everythin'. They got little kids with 'em, couple of old folk. Didn't get any weird vibes off any of 'em."
"Nothing?" She queried, a little surprised.
"Nothin'," He confirmed. "'Chonne neither. Reckon they're alright."
She stepped closer to him, tapped the tiny x tattoo on his collarbone with one finger. "I guess everyone should have a good wash before we get on the road then."
He nodded.
"Are you okay?" She asked, aware of his tortured body. "Do you want a hand?"
"Damn horn-dog." He teased. "Always tryin' to get in my damn pants."
She giggled at him, and then sobered. "Does it… Does it bother you?"
"Only 'cause I can't tell if you're kiddin' or not." He said honestly, then blushed. He began twisting the cloth in his hands in embarrassment. "Go on, I got this."
She snickered at his awkwardness, a little flattered but understanding his hesitance to change the nature of their relationship. "I'll rustle up some food." She said, slipping out the door once more.
*GotHimASandwich: I'm flattered you were so touched by my story!
As always, reviews are my fuel and inspiration! Hopefully my full-on bitching-out of Guest last chapter didn't put anyone off :/ I appreciate any discussion and constructive criticism, but condescension is not really necessary… I am open to anything you have to say regarding my style, management of the characters, where you would like to see this story go etc.
Much love to everyone reading and reviewing! (Or not reviewing, that's cool too.)