Ferris Wheel Blues

I don't really have much explanation as to why this has taken so long. No triggers really here. Thanks for still sticking with me.

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

That damned woman was on his mind. Couldn't loose the feeling that he'd gone on and done something fucking stupid like he had getting all tangled up in with their marital dispute. She'd asked him why and well, the stupid son of a bitch just couldn't put words to make meaning of the why. Just that he had and he regretted it every day since he had dropped her off at that house. Could still see the way her eyes lit up with fear when that hand came yanking her back like this was her curtain call.

That drive back home had been a terrible one. Didn't know of any other drive that could make him feel as despicable and disgusting as that drive had. Every bump in the road was a rasp of her voice telling him that he'd gone and fucked up. Made shit harder for her than it should have been. Daryl should have just kept his nose out of her business. Should have just walked on by. Let that asshole husband of hers lay into her for whatever it was she did or didn't do. Who was he to come in the middle of things? Just because he had told her he would keep her promise didn't mean nothing in the long run of things. Word traveled like wildfire— weren't nothing going to stop that from happening no matter how much she willed it. Carol was dead either way from what he could tell.

That bear of a man would swat her down and then some given the opportunity with no repercussion. There was no denying that. When Daryl's fist had gone smashing against that cheekbone of his, despite the thick layer of fat between, he could feel the strong angle of bone that had once been there. Reckoned in his heyday this man he was laying into probably had been a star-stud athlete like all them women liked. Football players with their letterman jackets and flashy grins. The people everyone wanted to know. Some life that must have been. Probably a has been. Most likely. Men like him didn't let themselves go like the way he had unless he'd been injured or some suspension heavily crushed a career that had just been blooming.

Yeah, that was probably it. Knocked her up and then saw everything as her fault. Her fault she bore him a scrawny looking girl than a strapping boy. Her fault that dinner wasn't finished by the time he had gotten home. Yeah, shit like that… he'd lived through something like that. Knew what it was that she was dealing with.

Maybe that had been the reasoning.

"Dixon!"

His eyes flashed finding them landing on Jackson who looked red in the face and pissed as a hornet. Bracing himself for some verbal lashing, Daryl sauntered off towards the man.

It was only a few yards of space that had separated them but apparently having that distance wasn't enough to satisfy the stocky man. "The fuck're you doin' fucking lollygagging over there? Huh? You deaf boy? We gotta wrap this shit up and get to moving again. Ya ain't born yesterday. Git that shit on the trucks and I mean now! We got road to burn."

It all seemed to come in one breath and Daryl simply gave a nod without an answer moving to heft the large boxes from the small cabin he'd been sharing with a slew of other carnival hands. The bandage about his arm was still wrapped tight. The wound had slowly been getting better over time, but with all the sweat, dirt, and grime that came with his job, Daryl could only manage to keep the damned thing from festering. Antiseptic was what he was really needing and he was kicking himself for not having stopped to pick something up.

At least once every other day, he would take his pick up when downtime was slow and nothing needed working on and Daryl would slip away. Putter on down that lonesome prairie road back into town where it was Carol lived. It took some memorizing but he remembered it when he made the fifth pass his first night. Caught sight of that tan Cherokee that sat parked in the driveway. And for a few minutes Daryl would sit, eyes flickering over the drawn drapes trying to catch a glimpse of the woman he had sent back to her death. And that was what it had been. All spoken in that one look she threw his way before she was pulled out of view.

He hadn't seen her since.

His stomach knotted on itself, but Daryl continued on anyway, wrangling up boxes and dropping them off near the trucks. They were supposed to have been gone by this morning, but something had come up and things had gotten delayed. Daryl didn't care. The longer time he had in this podunk town the better chance he had of that woman coming back to see him possibly. Wishful thinking as it was. Hope that somehow he hadn't been responsible for some domestic dispute or some shit like that.

There had been hide nor hair of Carol Peletier seen since that night and Daryl pondered whether he had done the right thing. Whether his choice in taking her back had been the right one. Hell there had been some little rundown motel he could have just dropped her off at. Lend her money for a phone, maybe call her Momma or some relative that cared to come take her off his hands. And for that moment, Daryl had to reconsider what it was he had been thinking. In his mind, he had simply been looking at her as a problem he simply was looking to pass off to someone else— really this wasn't his problem and he sure as shit wasn't going to take care of her like she was his woman.

No woman had ever wanted him like that— not even the ones Merle had paid to pretend to like him for the night. No. Stints like that were quick and without words being exchanged beyond faked names and cheap thrills. There wasn't any intention of seeing them again and no reason to bother with some first name basis that would be forgotten the next night or hell, even that very hour once time was up and gone.

A shove at his shoulder had him dropping the box of colored tarps that draped over the back of the booths to keep the guests from peeking behind the scenes. Looking up he caught sight of the scraggly mop of hair belonging to Tommy, toothy gapped grin being shot in his direction. Daryl scowled but said nothing. The man had been goading him on ever since he'd come back the next morning from dropping off Carol. He aimed to figure out why it was Daryl had left the fairgrounds for some ulterior motive that Daryl frankly gave no shits about. He could care less that Jackson found out about his rendezvous out in the town trying to catch a glimpse of Carol for the sake of his own sanity that he simply didn't just send some woman to her grave.

"Whatsa matter Darylina? Yer faggot ass still up in them clouds? All ponderin' like 'bout that pussy you ain't gettin'? Bitch went an' left ya high an' dry. That's what it is." He crowed, scooting the tarp over with the toe of his boot, inching it just enough out of Daryl's reach that he would have to get up and grab at it. "Hmm?"

In mid-reach for the tarp, he paused for a second, teeth grinding back and forth, molars gnashing against its opposing set. Getting to his feet, Daryl took one look at Tommy before bull rushing into the man, sending him on his ass. In a matter of seconds, he was on top of the man, bringing fist after fist into the man's chest before grabbing a fistful of his collar and laying into him good before a set of hands came clasping over his arms pulling him from the now cowering and sputtering heap of a man.

He had known that stupid son of a bitch was always all talk and never any means of backing it up. It just went along with the fucking adage of cashing a check that your ass just couldn't cash. And Daryl had been right. Oh god had he been right and despite the cussing and the hollering and the thrashing about that he was doing in retaliation of Tommy's instigation, there was a swell in his chest that made him grin like some stupid prick. He could only glean to imagine what all Tommy's face would look like once he was done with him.

And he left after that. Went out to the edge of the fairgrounds like he had that one night. Came to sit atop that rail bar, fingers pawing at his chest for his cigarette like he had that night. And just as he was looking to light that cigarette, he felt a catch in his chest as his gaze came to falter on a figure moving towards him.

It was her.

She stood there with that meek smile of hers and that quiet presence. Moved over towards where he was, hesitated a bit, before finding that he wasn't going to run away.

"Hello," she said then waited.

He didn't respond immediately to her greeting. Sat there with his mouth ajar and the cigarette dangling there like he'd seen a ghost. For a second her smile faltered and she composed herself a little by giving that patchwork bag of hers a shrug. The way her fingers went running behind her ear, he could imagine a twist of hair moving past if it had been long enough for it to do that.

It was then his eyes went searching her face. The gentle angle of her cheekbone was devoid of any bruising. Nothing he could visibly see. Couldn't see where she had applied any makeup. His Momma did that. Dabbed the stuff all over trying to conceal the purples and blues that marred her cheeks. Strangely he couldn't see much of anything. No limp in her step. There weren't nothing there.

And his brow rose in question unsure of whether he should ask. Worked his jaw and said nothing.

"I made you something." She stated simply. Rummaged through that bag of hers before pulling another paper bag. He didn't have to know what all was in there. Could smell the rich sweet smell of that cornbread she'd made him that one week. She held it aloft in hand, faint twitch of her lips as she waited on him to take it.

And like the hardy fool he was, Daryl didn't take it.

Didn't know if he was capable of taking this sort of peace offering. Whether or not he deserved such kindness from her. And again her smile faltered some. Pulling down into a frown as she pursed her lips looking down at her worn shoes.

"Ed… he didn't… well, he…"

She didn't need to finish her sentence for him to know what it was she was trying to say. Knew it in the way her shoulders slumped a little. Saw it in the way she still spoke meekly of the man she'd married. Daryl looked away. Wasn't sure if this was right. That him listening to her speak about this was okay.

"Nevermind," she finally muttered taking a step forward and holding out that paper bag. The sharp crinkle of it held betwixt her fingers as she gave Daryl another pleading look. "Please?"

She seemed to be begging for him to take it. Like her heart was set on it. And like the wary scrap of human he was, Daryl gave his head a shake. There was something more to this than she was letting on and he wanted none of it. This would be the last time he would ever see her again. In an hour he would be gone. Headed to the next town like they always were. Chasing the sun in an endless marathon that didn't seem to end. Simply melded with each day that slipped past.

"What fer?"

"Because you helped me."

It had been a simple enough reply. But that wasn't good enough for him. It couldn't just be that easy. And despite the nagging need to know if she'd been okay despite her standing right there in front of him, Daryl wasn't satisfied with just that. He'd been driven to the point of parking out in front of that god forsaken house almost every night seeking out some small smidge of hope that she'd been alive. That he hadn't been the reason that a woman had been killed in some domestic dispute because he'd brought her home. Because his selfish ass had wanted to be rid of this burden. This problem.

And for a moment, he had to fight back the chuckle that would feel weird coming from his chest. Hope. When had he ever had hope for anything? All the years he'd been under the thumb of his Daddy, there had never been hope that he would get out when he did. That the beatings would stop once he got himself a way out? No, that shit persisted. And it didn't matter none that he'd somehow managed to get out. The scars on his body were a constant reminder that he would never escape. The words that had been drilled into him since he was real little would never leave him.

They would always be there. Always constant. Always there at the back of his mind to goad him into believing all that was true. That he was really nothing.

Hope.

It hadn't done anything for him. The prayers. They never worked. God wasn't listening. His Momma. She was dead. Fire had killed her. And Merle. He was too strung out on the drugs and the liquor to care what all happened to him.

And another spell of silence slipped in between them like it seemed to do before he jumped back to the present. Remembering that he wasn't back in his Daddy's house. That he was still here on the fairgrounds. That he was sitting in front of a woman he had believed dead the last week or so.

Swallowed that guilty lump in his throat and began to speak. Voice rasping to suss out what he was wanting to say. Found that his mouth wasn't working and the words weren't coming. Got mad and glared hard at the ground where she had just been looking.

"I didn't help ya. I sent ya back ta get beat on 'gain. Ain't no help in that." He retorted, removing the forgotten cigarette from his mouth, tucking it back atop his ear, fingers curling about the rail in a white knuckled grip. There came to be a nervousness in the air as the two stood in quiet standoff and he wished she would just leave him be. That she would stop looking for him as if he was something that she needed to seek out. Like he was worth something to her.

No, she couldn't care about him even if she wanted to. He was just some jackass that happened by.

Huffing to himself, he tilted his head to look back at the woman. That damned bag still held out for him to take. And that crinkle-eyed frown she was wearing. Like he had gone and smacked her good, too.

What did she want from him?

He'd done what he had said he would. Didn't say nothing about her being there with her girl. Didn't talk nothing about when he had gone and hit that husband of hers good in the face. Kept his trap shut like he always did. Always did best when his mouth wasn't moving and his thoughts were kept to himself. Of course she wouldn't know that about him. Hell, like he had known before—

This would be the last moment he would catch a glimpse of this woman. Of this Carol Peletier again.

With that belief stuck in his mind, Daryl hopped down from that rail. Tight groan of the weight being shifted from it as his boots met the ground and the crunch of gravel sounded out all staccato like between them. Snatched that bag good out of her hands, still cocking a steel glare right on back at her. And for a second, he felt bad. Felt bad that he imagined he was the first person. No. Probably the first man to show her some lick of kindness.

Awkwardly his hand came to rub at the back of his neck feeling that slip of shame settle deep in the pit of his belly. Only a handful of times had ever made him feel like. Could barely count the times it had been like that. A few of them being when he was around this woman.

This frail, meek woman that reminded him so much like his own Momma except not. His Momma had given up. Took to the drinking and the smoking real heavy. Sometimes forgot that he was even there when she would, should have been watching him. There was something there beneath the fan of those lashes, in the pools of those wavering blue eyes that Daryl couldn't quite put a finger to and he wondered then if he ever would.

There came a sharp whistle piercing through that silence that had settled between them and she jumped not anticipating the sudden sound. Daryl ignored her and turned his head in the direction of the caravan waiting and ready to go.

"Well, I suppose, this is good bye then."

"Yeah," he muttered as his body pivoted slowly to return a look back at Carol. "Reckon this is it."

The good bye was awkward. She'd tried to reach out and touch his arm, but he'd quickly recoiled. Not familiar with the touch, bringing up his shoulder to shield himself in a way. Took a hesitant step back in the direction of his pickup, before spinning on his heel and hurrying off. The last glance he shot back in her direction, she'd been gone.

The look that had flickered faintly across her eyes had been a deep hurt. It was a means of her connecting with him and he had shied it away. Tucked that tail between his legs and hurried off like the bell was ringing and he was late to class.

Trucks were pulling out. One by one. A long line of trucks and vehicles all neat in a row. Daryl was always the last to leave. Stuck around a bit to ensure nothing was left behind. And like always, everything was picked clean like they had never been there. Simply ghosts that just up and vanished. And he liked it that way. Figured it was better than leaving trails where someone could follow. Didn't know why that eased his mind some. Perhaps it was the notion that he was more or less untraceable.

That maybe if there was no tracks from him that his Daddy wouldn't follow.

Sucking in a deep lungful of air, Daryl made tracks towards that podunk pickup that sat all by its lonesome at the edge of the forest. Out of the way of everything. In the sticks like he had grown up. Fished his keys out of his pockets before unlocking the latch and hopping in. Tossed that paper bag in the passenger seat where she'd sat and waited a moment there. His bags were already in the bed of the pickup. A single military duffle bag he had taken from when Merle had been in the Corps. It had been put to good use over the years and it was a measure of comfort he kept with him.

And for a while, Daryl just sat in the driver's seat. Stared long and good at that bag that Carol had given him before reaching out. Grabbed it carefully and set it in his lap. Again he waited. Contemplated whether he should opened the damned thing or chuck it out the window. Thought better on it and began to open it up. The savory smell of honey wafted up and he made to shove his hand in when his fingers clasped over something.

She'd left him something else beside the cloth wrapped cornbread. Withdrawing his hand, enclosed neatly in an envelope was a note. His brow raised some. She'd actually written something for him. Rolling his jaw, tightness catching in his chest, his fingers worked to open up the note.

A slow exhale left his lips, he didn't know he had been holding as his eyes skimmed the small slip of paper. The tidy handwriting was scrawled almost hurriedly. Could tell by the way her words almost blended together like she'd been doing something she ought not be doing.

Mr. Dixon,

Thank you for taking me home. It might not have been something you were looking to get tangled in, but I do appreciate that bit of kindness you showed to me.

I think things are looking up for me. Ed didn't hit me. I don't know if that is supposed to mean anything, but it's something and I'll take it.

You're not as bad as you think you, Daryl. You're a good man.

Sincerely,

Carol

And Daryl would have crumpled that note and thrown it out the window had it not been for that last and final set of words written down at the corner. Tore that piece off, slipped it beneath his driver's license and folded the rest of that note into his wallet. He wouldn't look at it again.

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