Author's Note: Apologies for the shorter last chapter, thank you for reading it anyway.
Enjoy!
TWDTWDTWD
Carol was already up and dressed when Daryl came to wake her. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she laced up her boots, tucking the hems of her cargo pants into them. He opened the door without knocking, as always, and he seemed surprised to see her ready to go.
"We'll go huntin' later instead." He told her, adjusting the bow on his back. "Let's just get this over with."
"I could go with Glenn or Rick if you'd prefer." Carol didn't look at Daryl as she said it. She knew how he would take that. "If you'd rather go hunting instead." She shrugged, taking her coat off of the back of her door, slipping it on.
He snorted with derision. "Fuck that." Was all he had to say on the matter, before he headed down the stairs. As she pulled on her bow and quiver, she heard him talking to Rick, telling him that they were going earlier than intended.
Daryl would rather lock her in the attic for all of eternity before letting her take a trip out without him. He trained her, made her as good as she was and he'd be fucked if he was not going to see the fruits of his labour. Besides, none of the others knew how she worked. The operated together well, she was one of the few people who didn't piss him off and they didn't need to speak to know what the other one was going to do.
He was waiting for her in the jeep when she got outside, it was a newer one they'd found a few weeks previous, abandoned on the way into Newtown, perfect for small hauls. He had the window rolled down, despite the chill in the air, arm draped over the door.
"You comin' anytime soon or what?" He drawled at her, although there was no real malice in his tone. There never was anymore, she'd noticed. Not with her anyway.
She lifted herself into the passenger seat without any real hurry and he handed her a pistol before she could put on her seatbelt.
"The safety is this bit." He turned flicked the safety catch to demonstrate. "Point and pull the trigger." He passed it over to her.
"I've never used a gun before." She told him, turning the weapon around in her hands.
"It's an absolute last resort. When nothin' else can do it. You know that the minute that thing goes off, every Geek f'miles will be swarmin' round. If there's no other way." He stressed this point to her, making her understand.
She nodded, lifting her hips off the seat to tuck the gun into her waistband, to the left of her knife.
"Last resort." She repeated to him. "If it comes to it."
TWDTWDTWD
They parked the car at the rear of the store, the delivery entrance shutters were rolled up four foot or so and Daryl lead them towards them, crossbow pointed ahead. A Walker appeared from an abandoned truck and Carol took the first kill, using her bow. It hit the thing in the temple and she looked around the area before rushing to retrieve the arrow. He motioned for her to keep watch whilst he crouched low, scanning the poorly lit stock room for movement. He pulled out a torch, flashing it experimentally and jumped back when a rotting hand snatched out, crawling under the shutters. Daryl dropped the torch and pulled out his knife, standing on its arm before the thing could stand up, depositing his weapon into it's brain.
Eventually, they made it to the shop floor, where they could see two Walkers. Carol shouldered her bow, unsheathing her knife, she made her way to the first one, a female, dressed in a dirty green dress, one shoe still on its foot. It spotted her and groaned in anticipation, stumbling to catch her. Carol grabbed it by the back of its collar and threw her weight into the knife, the blade was long and it cut through the rotting skull cleanly. As she pulled the knife back, she saw Daryl taking out the other one, it hadn't even spotted him.
When Daryl determined that the shop was clear, he headed to the front of the store, one of the doors was open, a body preventing it from swinging shut. Not sure whether it was dead or undead, he released an arrow on it, before kicking it out the door, turning the dead bolt over afterward.
He signalled for Carol to start searching and she pulled the trash liners from her jacket pocket, opening one out, ready to starting loading up. She rifled through the racks quickly, not looking for anything in a particular colour, just what was her size. Two camisoles went in first, then two plaid shirts in earthy colours, they reminded her of something Daryl might wear. She spotted a few more in other colours and she snatched them up, thinking they would be good for the other women. She moved on to tshirts, grabbing a handful of basics, and a knitted cardigan, hers was wearing thin. She pulled some sweaters in for the girls too. Everyone seemed to be living in tshirts or coats, with nothing in between and the weather was just reaching cool now, not quite cold.
Daryl paced a wide circle around her, keeping an eye out and she moved to pants, picking out jeans and cargo pants, she spotted a sleeveless denim jacket, held it up against herself to check for size before throwing it in. Maggie and Beth were slight, if it didn't fit her, it would fit them. As she moved over to the accessories section of the store, she stopped, her gaze falling to a rack of red dresses. They were modest, sleeves that would reach the elbows, hemlines that would fall to the knee but she eyed them enviously.
The dress reminded her of one that she'd picked up from the back of someone's car, that day when she lost Sophia. Lori turned and looked at her like she had two heads, wondering why she would dare pick up up something so frivolous. Lori would never understand. Ed had dictated what she wore from day one of their marriage. What haircut she had, what jewellery she wore, what deodorant she used, she never had a say in anything. Lori, for all her good qualities, would never understand that.
She snatched the first one up quickly, hoping Daryl didn't notice. She glanced up and he still had his back to her, so she figured she was safe. As if he knew she was looking at him, he turned to her and she picked up a knitted hat on the nearest stand and gestured to the corner of the store, where the undergarments were laid out.
She dragged the first bag to the stockroom door first, ready for pick up on the way out and opened the second. She flicked through the bras quickly, trying to find her size and she found herself picking out types she would never have worn before, in her haste to find something. There was no time for matching panties, not that she had any reason for matching sets, she just threw in what she could, guessing sizes for the other girls. They'd all be grateful for the underwear. They only had two or three pairs each and handwashing them everyday, particularly when the weather was bad, was irritating at best. Socks went in by packets, dozens of them would be shared out.
Pajamas were the last thing she grabbed, a flannel set. Daryl appeared in her room more and more and she felt some what embarrassed to be spotted in the nightdress she wore to sleep, even though he never appeared to notice anything. As she twisted the bag into a knot she felt something brush her leg and she nearly screamed, instead, taking in a sharp breath. She dropped the bag and pulled out her knife.
The Walker had only it's head and half it's torso, but it still attempted to drag it's self to her, the entrails trailing behind it. It made Carol want to vomit but instead she thrust her knife into it's head. Daryl heard the noise and made his way to her but she was already wiping the blade on the leg of her pants.
"You alright?" He muttered, kicking the carcass out of her way.
"I'm fine." She whispered back, picking the bag up again. "I'm done."
He led the way out of the store, picking up the second bag on the way. Daryl entered the stockroom carefully, but there were no Walkers there, only the body of the earlier one he took out by the shutters.
As they jumped in the car, throwing the sacks onto the back seat, Carol let out a sigh of relief. She'd expected hundreds of Walkers, she'd been warned by everyone who'd been to Newtown of the swarms that roamed on the main street.
She buckled her seat belt as Daryl pealed off from the lot, because the man drove like a maniac and she'd be damned that she'd die from crashing a car in this crazy world.
"So, is there time to go to a grocery store?" She finally asked, as he swerved to avoid a lone Walker.
"Fuck no. That's enough for one day." He told her, not taking his eyes off the road.
"We've got hours!" She protested.
"Don't get cocky Carol. One store at a time."
"You're doing it again." She chastised him, folding her arms and looking out the window.
"Doin' what?" He muttered, but he knew damn well what she would say.
"Being overprotective! You know I can do it. I just damn well did it!" She tried to keep her voice from becoming shrill, but they seemed to have the same problem all the time and it was getting tiresome.
"Look, it was your first time. It was way too quiet out there, I didn't like it. 'Sides, the grocery store has always got tons of the fuckers out front. You did well, I ain't sayin' you didn't. Just take it easy."
"I'm going out again, you know that right?" She told him resolutely, propping a foot on the dashboard.
"As if I could fuckin' stop you. I created a monster." He smirked at her and she laughed.
She unfolded herself and relaxed into the seat. Not a monster, she thought. A survivor.
TWDTWDTWD
He helped her take the bags upstairs, after the group congratulated Carol on her first outing. Maggie and Beth were preparing lunch, whilst she sorted through the heap of clothing, pulling her own out and setting aside the extras for the others.
Daryl lounged on her bed, flicking through the book on her nightstand idly as she folded things into her chest of drawers.
"Get your boots off my bed, Daryl Dixon." She warned him lightly. He huffed but toed off his shoes anyway.
"What the hell is that?" He looked up to see her, holding the dress, pulling the tags off and folding it.
"What's it look like?" She asked defensively.
"I know what it is." He put the book down and sat up to look at her properly. "Just wonderin' if it's the kinda gear you'd wear to go kill a deer."
She tilted her head and looked at him, amused that Daryl had cracked a joke.
"I just wanted it. I always wanted a red dress, never was allowed one. I know I'll never wear it and that if we leave here, it'll be the first thing I would leave behind. But...I just wanted it. You ever have things you just desired?" Sitting beside him and running her hands over the bodice of the dress.
"Ya didn't have anythin' you wanted in the Dixon household, 'cause as soon as someone else knew 'bout it, it got taken away." He told her, resuming his flicking through the book.
"It isn't the Dixon house anymore, Daryl." She told him softly. He didn't answer, so she stood up and folded it into the bottom drawer of the dresser.
She finished pulling tags of everything and putting things away, slipping off the threadbare cardigan she wore over a tanktop and replacing it with one of her new plaid shirts. She joined him back on bed, buttoning up as she went. He put the book down and watched her do up the buttons. They sat in silence for a few moments. It was nice, she thought. Some things just didn't need to be said.
"You should wear the damn dress, if thats what you want." He finally said. She smiled at him. Sure some things didn't need to be said, but there were some things that did. Maybe she'd wear the dress hunting tomorrow, just to see his face.