Ferris Wheel Blues

I am just overwhelmingly sorry for the lack of updates on all my fics. Work and school, juggling... yeah. So this chapter is long. I guess a lot of Daryl as a muse came forth and really get into motion for this. I should warn right now that this piece of fiction is by no means the traditional fluffy sort... at all. I had no intentions of making it like that and if that's what you've come here for, perhaps turning back might be best. Enough of that though, for those of you wanting to see more of Carol and Daryl's story, continue on reading and thanks for putting up with me!

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

Chapter 6

Daryl had to take a step back from the shaken woman that trembled shirking away from him, flinch crinkled at the corner of her eye. It was that wrinkled brow and deadened stare that made him feel as if he had done everything wrong. That his effort was in vain for trying to do right. And even in that thin veil, that somewhere she was painting him of the same coin as that dead-beat of an asshole husband of hers.

Fighting back the snarl that was working its way upon his lips, Daryl couldn't contain it much longer. What with her shaking and her crying, it was enough to send him on edge. He didn't handle people crying at all. Didn't know what was the right things to say or even remotely the best way to handle such situations. It was like being told to put a complex engine together with a flathead but only given a two-step process that explained it all in Danish. And this sure as hell could have been Danish with the way his mind buzzed around inside that thick skull of his trying to work out the words to say.

When he came up short and feeling even more frustrated than before he ran his callous-marred hand down his face, fingers catching at the scratchy whiskers of his jaw shooting her a narrowed glare. "The fuck were ya thinkin' comin' here anyhow? A man like that an' all them people? Hmph, stupid bitch," he growled stalking away with a sharp wave of his hand.

He was done with this conversation and done bothering trying to do right by this woman. Daryl had done the good deed and listened when she asked not to say anything and he didn't. Wasn't quite sure as to whom he could divulge such information to but it weren't like it would matter anyhow. No one cared much to hear what he had to say when it came down to it. Even if it was some bright idea he had cooked up, it was mocked and then swatted down for another to pick up and say claim it was theirs in the first place. Anything of worth that Daryl held onto wasn't his: ideas and thoughts alike. And it sucked.

There came a snag at the hem of his shirt sleeve and he whirled around almost instantly not anticipating that the woman was just at his heels, fingers loosely pulling away, big blue eyes wide with a slight terror. Furrowing his own brow at her, Daryl had to try hard to not hiss that he wanted her out of his space and pronto. Somehow the words weren't going to come and try as he might to just dismiss everything to a night's worth of bullshit and call it quits, Carol was very much now his problem as he could only assume she was now stranded with no means of transportation of getting home or anywhere but.

For a long while the two stood in a silent standoff, almost paralleled to that of when he had done the very same with that scrawny legged daughter of hers and that distinct wet cough that didn't go away even when she managed to clear her throat. Rolling his jaw slowly, narrowed gaze still held fast on the silver-haired woman, Daryl didn't say anything, let his eyes do a once over of her condition. Welt at her cheek bright from the crack of her husband's hand as her tears glistened under the swath of moonlight shining down on the two of them.

"Please, don't go. I don't have anyone else."

His lip curled up at the words she spoke and he had the sharpest inclination to give her a piece of his mind, but when Daryl went to part his lips, nothing tumbled out. All but a grunt and a huff before a deft shake of his head punctuated the frustrations that were currently doing a number on his mental state. In hindsight, he supposed this was a good reason as to why he knew he would never father children of his own. Didn't know heads nor tails on how to deal with them and with his own unbridled temper, it was a terrible cocktail of hurts and pains he didn't want any part of. And perhaps this all fell in line with relationships, too. Women just seemed to be these enigmatic creatures that made no sense to him and the only thing he seemed to know right from wrong was: men didn't strike women. It was a simple rule and albeit one his own Daddy didn't care much to follow in his own preaching of.

Stuffing a hand into his pocket he fished out his matchbook and went to paw at his chest for the pack of cigarettes in his breast pocket of his jumper. Wincing some he stopped in mid search and glanced at the pink and bruised flesh of his knuckles noting where he could see scuffs of red where he'd broke open the skin. Scoffing a little, but mostly to himself, Daryl took a final look at Carol as she seemed to be looking on right back.

He wouldn't lie. She was a fucking mess. Tears streaked down her cheeks to the welt where she'd been struck and he was sure as the sun was going to come crashing down on them once it rose, those weren't the only marks she'd received since being at the carnival. Grudgingly Daryl beckoned for the woman to follow along after him. "C'mon, I ain't got all nigh'. Got shit ta do." He growled as he turned to guide them along back to the little cabin on the edge of the carnival grounds, far beyond the parking lot. It almost seemed a world away with it so tucked out near the damned woods, but Daryl reckoned it was for the best. Kept the noise at a distant hum most mornings when things were being routinely maintained that didn't involve him.

Trudging back towards where Daryl had been hiding out, he took a deep lungful of air, letting his eyes flicker up to the pin-prickled night sky with all it's little imperfections and milky white clouds lingering overhead. Twisting a little to make sure Carol was still following along in tow, Daryl didn't say anything to her. Just gave her a nod of his head and made to lead them through the fairgrounds once more.

"Stay close." He muttered as he zigzagged his way through the unrelenting crowd. It still boggled his mind that people went to shit like this as frequent as this town had. Seemed to be packed most nights, picking up around maybe eight o'clock- for such prudish people it made no real sense to him. But who was he to judge? He was just some fucking hillbilly trying to pay off a debt he may never fulfill working as an engine mechanic.

With the how busy the crowd seemed to be, he felt the brush of Carol's hand seeking his out and almost instantly he flinched just out of reach absently stuffing his hand into his pocket, unfettered gaze held directly in front of him. He didn't care to hold hands with the woman and he certainly wasn't there to coddle her neither- no one had ever coddled him and he wasn't about to start now with a grown-ass woman. All he aimed on doing was getting Carol some ice, if there was any in the freezer of the cabin he was staying at, and possibly stealing away for the night in the only thing he'd managed to scrounge up in his time playing cards amongst the other carnies.

He'd won himself an old beat-up pick-up truck back two-states over with a rather lofty sum dangling under his nose. That night he just happened to be the luckiest sunovabitch out of the five men playing their hand at poker. Reckoned with the bit of gas he had left, perchance he could take her to some friend of hers or maybe a room at one of those motels he saw on his way over.

The crowd got rather large and thick all of a sudden and as Daryl swerved to veer around a set of strollers and small children, he had to hop up a little to see over the sea of heads bobbing. Fuck. He thought to himself when he didn't see the woman at his heels or her thin fingers coiled around the hem of his sleeve like he had felt almost seconds ago. Despite knowing that she was no longer following alongside him, Daryl could have easily chalked this up to being no longer his problem but somehow that didn't feel quite right and there was a sudden urgency sidling up in his chest that prodded him to give purchase to taking responsibility for stepping in as he had.

Licking at his lips, his eyes hurried to seek out a small wooden crate from leftover bottles used for one of the rigged games. Swiping to discard the junk that was settled on it, he made to stand atop it. Absently Daryl flitted his gaze over every female face he could distinguish from the mass of faces bustling by. Not a single one had the features he was seeking out. None had those blue eyes he had come to know or that silver hair that wisped at her temples. None had that meek look on their faces neither. From what he could discern, she weren't anywhere amongst the common folk.

"Daryl!"

Looking down at his walkie talkie, he didn't hear its distinct crackle nor the sharp drawl of other slurs followed along after his name was called. What struck him more so was the notion of being called by first name. None of whom he worked with called him by just: Daryl. Most simply called him Dixon or hillbilly. There came a sharp call of his name again and a few booths over his head was snapping to see whom had called to him. Again he heard the warbled pitch of his name and despite the roar of the crowd, his eyes tuned everyone else out. Only thing permeating through the deafening sound of people laughing, jeering, and talking was the distinct sound of his own name.

"Daryl!"

Hopping down from where he had been perched, he hooked around the booth he'd been near and made his way through the back way towards where he had heard Carol call out to him. When he found her, shaking hand at the base of her throat gently massaging to ease her worry, eyes frantically looking him over with a slight pause of relief, Daryl huffed grudgingly reaching out and taking hold of her hand dragging her along. In a way he felt at ease doing this as it reassured him that she wasn't going anywhere now. He wouldn't have to waste any extra time searching her out amongst the density of people in the crowds.

They made their way through the crowd in total silence, guiding her along as they dipped around people and dodging strollers with women too busy to pay much attention to where it was they were heading. If there was ever a time that Daryl wished he didn't have to deal with the public it would be this moment in time. People bumping into him, brushing at the wound of his arm, irritating it more. Occasional trickle of warmth running down his hand as they finally made it out of the madhouse of people.

Passing by the parking lot, he felt Carol's fingers wiggle slightly in his hand and a soft hum. "Mr. Dixon, you're hurting me." She mumbled at his side, timid pitch in her voice as if anticipating her statement to be something she should fear of him.

Letting go, Daryl didn't say anything. Shoved his hands back into his pockets as he led the way through the tall grass and up the rickety boards of the front porch. Holding up a single finger, he gestured for the woman to wait. "Stay 'ere," he mumbled arching a brow at her that meant he wasn't screwing around. It wasn't simply because he was embarrassed of what she might see inside. It had nothing to do with that at all. Daryl wasn't about to let her in and be privy to whatever asshole was currently lurking about ditching their duties much like he was at the moment.

What did they know anyhow? Weren't like they were much in his shoes anyway. He let out a shuddered sigh when he heard no other occupants inside shuffling about or tossing beer cans at the walls as was their means of entertainment. Daryl didn't get it nor partake. Slipping past the menagerie of boxes in his path, he brushed against his arm once more wincing as he made it through. The cramped bathroom didn't have much of anything inside. He could have sworn there had been a mini first-aid kit in here that he had stashed away.

Rummaging through the medicine cabinet, he didn't find anything that he was looking for. Sighing heavily to himself he made his way back through the hallway and into the small kitchen. Pulling at the red grease rag from his back pocket, he whipped it out, cracking it so any loose particles that clung to it were hastily removed. Pulling at the worn handle of the freezer, clatter of ice cubes fell to the ground where the ice maker had been producing excessive amounts. Adjusting the dial for the ice, he gathered up several ice cubes and wrapped them up into the rag. Giving the cloth a quick spin, he knotted it up enough that the ice wouldn't fall out.

Thrusting the freezer door shut, he padded through the kitchen and back out to the front porch, nudging the screen door open with the toe of his boot. "Here, take it," he mumbled offering the makeshift icepack to Carol as he came to sit on the bench of the front porch, head lolling back to hit the boards of the wall.

She took it hesitantly, fingers roving over the cloth material, worrying her bottom lip as she pressed it repeatedly at her cheek, before keeping it there. With her gaze downcast and the light of the moon bathing the two with harsh shadows, it was hard to tell from where he sat whether or not she was still whimpering and crying from earlier. She wasn't making no sounds from what he could tell so for now that seemed fine enough for him to handle. Daryl couldn't stand women crying- didn't know how to handle such things.

Her soft voice broke the silence as she awkwardly gestured towards his hand. "You're bleeding. Did Ed do that?" She removed the rag from her cheek, fingers playing at the fabric again, head dropped down as she licked her lip not daring to look at him.

Glancing down at his arm, fingers tugging at the soiled cloth strips he'd fashioned earlier, Daryl gave a shrug and unwrapped them from the wound figuring he would just dress them later. "Naw, got this earlier from a crate in that there hallway." He admonished gruffly, fingers brushing along the serrated flesh. He was sure he would need stitches. Most likely he would do them later once he figured out what to do with the woman standing before him.

"You'll need stitches."

Bobbing his head a little, he withdrew his hand away from the wound, letting his hands rest in his lap as he took a long deep breath of clean air that wasn't pungent from the fried oil, the sugary cotton candy, or the smoke of cigarettes. Just fresh clean air to clear his head. "Reckon I will." He drawled in response, eyes shifting to her small form beneath the fringe of his bangs.

"I could... Ya know... Stitch that up for you."

His eyes caught her glance despite the dark that covered most her features. It was in that moment that Daryl felt the most uncomfortable he had felt in a long time. She was extending some measure of kindness to him and for what it was worth, he was insistent on declining it. He had never had anyone bother with him before and even now with the help he was extending to her, this was just something he wasn't used to in the slightest bit.

Shaking his head, Daryl made to shift in his seat on the porch, shoulders slouched low on his back. "I'm fine. Do it m'self later." His remark was sharp, but not aggressive in tone. Daryl was by no means weak and couldn't handle it. He simply just didn't want to take her help. It was just a Dixon thing. Dixons never took no help from nobody. Just a code that he'd lived by and something that wouldn't ever change.

The corners of her mouth seemed to curl downward as if his decision to decline any means of usefulness she could offer was worth something to her. Pursing her lips some, Carol brought the ice pack back to her cheek, nursing the welt from the slap.

"Mr. Dixon, could you take me home when I'm ready?"

"Why? So that husband o' yers can jus' beat ya 'gain?"

There was a pause. A sucking of a sob and then a soft shuddery sigh that filled the silence that had fallen between them for that brief moment. "It's not going to change anything if I go elsewhere. Besides... Ed won't change and as long as..." She trailed off, hand coming to massage at the base of her throat again. His brow arched at the way she stopped and his eyes moved to trail up settling on her face. "As long as I've got my Sophia, I'll do what I can to keep my baby safe."

Working his jaw slowly, his own fingers playing with the fraying of his pants, he dropped his gaze from hers. "Why you tellin' me all this? I don't know you. Don't care what happens. Yer jus' another person."

"Mr. Dixon... I think that's... that's a load of shit. If you didn't care what happened to me, you would have went on by and not taken a second's glance in my direction. But you didn't." Her voice was wavering now in the dark and the tone she had taken was hardly meek at this point. There was a small spit of a fire burning in her words. A flicker of flame he had yet to know from this woman in the chanceful of meets they'd shared thus far. "You're not as bad as you think you are." Turning on her heel, she didn't look back at him again. Simply uttered a soft: I'd like to go now.

Rolling his jaw slowly, the pointed finger of her words prodding at him slightly, Daryl grunted as he got up to his feet brushing past her without much another word spoke. In his head he was cussing up a storm over this woman and her words that were sinking slowly into his thick skull of his. How was it that she kept doing that to him? Digging those claws of hers into him like he was supposed to care about what happened to her? Harken to his own abusive past he had suffered.

The brush of grass that echoed along his own hurried pace was vaguely heard behind him as he trudged towards where several cars and pick-ups were parked. Shoving his hand into his jumper pocket, he fished out his keys storming his way over to the passenger side of the familiar Ford F-250 that he'd won in a hand of cards. Probably the only thing he was remotely proud of in his life. A luck of the draw and then some.

Fumbling with his keyring trying to get the right key, he shoved it into the keyhole when he found it and turned it quickly, thrusting the door wide as it groaned in protest, hinges worn down. Slamming the door shut, he huffed to himself as he sat alone in the cab catching the subtle form of Carol's outline through the glass of the passenger side door. She was shuffling in place from what he could tell, head ducking down to look at her feet as her gaze came to settle on his own and he felt almost obligated to let her in as it had been his suggestion in the first place.

Leaning over across the cab bench, he pulled up on the locking pin, fingers stretching to grasp at the handle, before pushing it open awkwardly with a quick feathered push. Carol climbed in quietly, shutting the door just the same as she had entered, setting her worn bag between her feet at the floor boards. The rag full of ice was in her lap, fingers still playing at the hem of the bundle as her head drooped back, eyes downcast away from the bright lights of the carnival. Daryl honestly couldn't blame her. Damned things were too bright as they were, but he knew that wasn't why she wasn't bothering to look up.

It wasn't hard for him to see himself reflected back when he looked at her. A splintered spitting image of himself in a lot of ways, but otherwise not quite at all.

"Take the main road into town. 'Bout a good twenty minute drive if you stick to the speed limit."

"Yes, ma'am."

Turning the key in the ignition, the pick-up sputtered before a gentle hum came from the dash and he flicked the lights on. The beam wavered, fizzled, then lit up as if it hadn't the strength to bother before. Chewing at the inside of his cheek, Daryl gave the woman in the cab another once over before muttering, "Git yer harness on."

Doing the same for himself, his hands fell into place, one at the back of the cab bench as he turned in his seat glancing out the rear panel window making sure he didn't hit anything backing up. When all was clear of his view, he cranked the gear shift back to D and the pick-up lurched a little before it fell into a steady speed. The two of them were somewhat jostled about inside the cab as they went over some dips in the field, likely where gophers had made their tunnels before a decently paved dirt road was felt beneath the traction of tires.

Neither said anything. There didn't seem to be much else that needed being said after the small outburst that had come spilling forth from this meek woman he had sitting in his truck. In the back of his mind, Daryl was trying to figure out where everything had suddenly snowballed and he was now entangled in this mess of a domestic dispute he was most likely going to be part of. If he'd only just left that little girl there... perhaps he wouldn't have been in this mess. Likely not.

Trouble had a way of finding him and it wouldn't have made much a difference if he had or not. When he swam so far up shit creek, it was way too hard for him to get out of it.

Maneuvering the steering wheel with one hand, he reached down at the side panel of his door, rolling down the window some as it was stifling in the cab, having sat out in the unrelenting afternoon sun. She seemed to take cue from him and mimicked his motions, cranking the handle several times until the window was down almost the same as his own. A snort came from him albeit softly at the woman at his side.

The silence continued on just the length of time she had said he would be puttering on down that lonely road. It certainly was out of nowhere that was for sure. Not a single light save for the beams of his own headlamps as they continued driving past large swaths of farmland on either side of the road. Distant braying of the livestock that was milling about in the fields. Chirp of crickets resounding out amongst the whip of wind rushing in. It all mingled in the cab- almost reminded him of home.

There came a shudder and the bones of his vertebra cracked at the sudden jerk of his neck when he turned to look in her direction. Again Carol had the same pursed lips, the deep set of a frown etched into her features from what little light reflected back. He didn't have to keep his eyes on her the entire duration to know that she was scared shitless. As much as he had been claiming he didn't give a damn about this woman, somewhere deep in his chest there was a small slip of anxiety coming to blanket him. Daryl knew what was coming. There was no denying it that the moments he was sharing with her would likely be the last he would ever have with her again.

The thought was disparaging. He'd always thought his own Daddy would just kill him. Be done with the issue of having to discipline his boys the best he could, but he didn't. Left him as this whipped dog of a man left to settle a debt that he knew he could never pay off. He weren't any good at nothing but fixing engines and that was what he had found himself doing. Of all things though- carnival engines? Even Daryl had to shake his head at the notion that there was certainly other opportunities elsewhere but where were those shining moments for him?

"Get onto Main Street and take a left. The fourth house on the left with the Cherokee..."

It was her house. She didn't have to finish her train of thought for him to come to that deduction. Coming to a creep, they paused at a Stop sign before he continued on down the road. The streetlights were on. It was pretty small town just as where he had grown up. There was a slight comfort in knowing that as he came to another stop and saw the sign that read visibly Main Street.

The houses that he drove past were like the typical ones he saw in movies. Picket fences with the single car that sat by itself in the driveway. Maybe a tricycle or a bike left on the grass from children that afternoon. All commonplace in movies that tried depicting the American dream. It was laughably ironic that he found himself driving along to drop off this woman to be beat by her husband in a utopic neighborhood that likely didn't know this all was going on behind closed doors. And he was just some redneck mechanic she had met.

"We're here." Her voice soft and shaking as she shifted uncomfortably in the her seat.

Pulling up to the house she had indicated, he gently shut the engine off and waited a moment. The pair of them sitting, stewing in their thoughts over what was to come. His fingers lightly rolling along the wheel, not quite sure where it was he wanted to put them as he was feeling all sorts of anxiety prickling through his body. If it wasn't for her the feeling wouldn't be nearly as bad, but he could feel it coming off her in waves and the prospect of what he knew was inevitable was here at the forefront. Hell, he'd just taken it to its fucking doorstep of all things.

Clicking his tongue against his teeth, he glanced over towards Carol from beneath the fringe of his bangs, not daring to look at her. The look in her eyes was damned near blank from he could tell. Turning slightly, she shifted again as her fingers came to click the harness button and the belt retracted back against the panel.

"Thank you Mr. Dixon... for everything."

Without another word exchanged between them, the door creaked open and she stepped out of the cab giving him one last look and a crooked grimace before turning her back taking those steps up to the front door.

Daryl waited. His hand had already been on the key waiting to turn it and just head in the other direction, but he was somehow compelled to watch. To wait. Watch the car wreck as it happened.

As soon as the first rap of her knuckles against the door could audibly be heard over the chittering of june bugs, the door was thrust open and visibly Daryl could see her husband waiting on the other side. His head craned to look back at Daryl and for a moment his posture went rigid and he froze. Deer in the headlights. Weren't much he could do now. Carol glanced back at him for a brief second before Ed grabbed at her arm and wrenched her inside the house.

The loud crack of the door slamming echoed over all the noise buzzing about in his head. The urgency in his bones for him to leap out of the cab and storm towards the door was strong, but... but this wasn't his fight and there wasn't anything he could do that would make things any easier.

Without much more left to do, Daryl turned his attention away from the door, away from the flicker of shadows against the curtains that were draped at the windows, away from what he already knew was transpiring. Turned the key without another glance and felt the momentum of the pick-up pull forward and he made his way back out the way he had come. Back towards the carnival in the distance.

A/N: Thanks for reading! Please leave a review, if you'd so kindly!