Disclaimer: I own nothing.
"Where are we going?" Sophia asked her mom for the umpteenth time. "It's raining. I hate thunder, Mommy."
"I know, baby. We'll be there soon, I promise." Carol wanted this over, but God was she scared shitless. She knew she had wronged him, and there was probably nothing she could do to make it right. Her reason was really good, but Daryl probably wouldn't see it as good enough. She had to leave him. They were falling apart, not further in love. It was a horrible marriage, and she never would've had her beautiful daughter. If Daryl ever wanted the life they were planning, he couldn't be mad at Sophia's existence. If he was...there would be so many problems. He was the only mechanic in town she trusted to not rip her off, and they would meet a lot because Carol always had car problems, and if he said anything about her daughter, she would kill him. She might actually have to kill him.
Carol looked over the houses on the street where Shawn said Daryl lived, and her heart was racing. He still lived in the house he worked his ass off to pay for after they were engaged. It was the same dull shade of yellow. They were going to repaint, but they got so busy, and then everything went to shit. He still had the little ugly lawn gnome that was left by the previous owners.
She parked in the driveway, his truck was probably in the garage. She wondered if he still had that motorcycle she never approved of. It was Merle's, but still, he rode it more than Merle did. He was even going to take her to graduation on it, but Dad didn't approve. It was a good thing too, because she would've thrown up on him.
Oh, God. If it was possible, she could feel the sweat seeping through her skin. She was scared, but happy. She'd missed him so much. There were no words to describe how much she had missed him. She wanted to see him, hug him and ask him how his life was. She knew it wasn't going well, because why else would Shawn demand she go see him? Shawn only demanded when someone was going to get pissed. God, she was so nervous. The last time she saw Daryl, he was sleeping beside her. She'd made his favorite dinner, tried to make everything seem normal then she made love to him and in the morning, she left before he woke up. She never got over that. She still felt those same rush of emotions—a rush of confusion and hesitation. She wanted to run—far away from here. She'd done enough running. It was time to come clean. She had to. He had to know why she left.
"Mommy?" Sophia poked her mom over and over, not getting her attention. She could see the fear in her mom's eyes and she wondered who was inside. It was a pretty house, but she hated the color yellow for houses. Their hold house was yellow too. Blue or green would look better. "Hey, Mommy, do you know somebody here?"
Carol still said nothing, feeling paralyzed with fear and self-disgust.
Sophia kicked the back of her seat. "Mommy!"
"What?" Carol jolted. "Right. We need to go inside." She slowly undid her seat belt and opened her car door, praying somehow it would get stuck or she could find her vagina and just do it. She helped Sophia out, and Carol walked oh-so-so-so slowly to the door while Sophia twitched at her speed.
"Oh, not this again. Yeesh." Sophia marched over to the door and knocked.
"No!" Carol hissed softly. "Sophia, stop!" She ran over to door to stop her, but it was too late. She heard movement inside, and she swallowed hard. Her eyes were glued to the door, her body was frozen solid, but her heart was running a marathon with the intention to win. Sophia calmly rocked back and forth on her heels, waiting.
But he didn't come to the door right away. There was either a hesitation or he really didn't want company.
"Is everyone moving super slow today?" She knocked again.
The door opened, Sophia jumped back, gasping at the sudden movement, and Carol felt like melting into a puddle on the ground, because there he was, Daryl Dixon. His shaggy brown hair was longer, covering smoldering blue eyes, his rounded nose that fit his face perfectly, the mole on the left side on his lower cheek and his lips were dry. He still had that stubble. He looked as handsome as ever, wearing a black sweater with holes on the side, revealing a gray undershirt, and he also had on ripped black jeans with no shoes. He was home though, so shoes didn't matter. He had the same rich earth scent, only now with a faint cigarette scent.
Daryl stared, feeling his skin behind to crawl, and he narrowed his eyes. It was her. The woman who he met when they were both just kids who rode a bus and who he was stuck working school assignments with since neither of them spoke up to get different partner; the woman he fell in love with, married and who ran away in the middle of the night, Carol Suzanne Greene. She looked the same, tanner perhaps. Her hair was a different shade of red, most likely dyed, but her green-blue eyes were as he remembered, the soft curvature of her lips still beckoning him in, and her body... She was taller, had more curves... She'd grown up, but she too goddamn skinny. He didn't want to care, but he did. He probably always would, no matter what she did to him. He still cared for Merle and that asshole always left.
And then he notice the mini-Carol. She couldn't be older than six, but not young enough to under age three. She has the same red hair as Carol, the same light skin and face even. Her eyes were different than Carol's, but everything else screamed:Carol Greene!at him. How the fuck was that possible? It didn't make any sense. Carol was barren. Or perhaps that was another fucking lie. Just great. What the hell brought her here after all this time? Again, he wanted to know, because he still cared. Why the hell did he care?
"Can we come in?" Sophia asked, smiling. "It's really cold, and the rain makes me thirsty."
He moved aside, not having a problem with the small fry. "Look who's back." She tried to walk by to at least avoid the rain, but he grabbed her by her forearm and closed the door with his foot, pulling her almost right up against him. "Why are you here?" he growled.
"To make amends."
"Oh, this'll be good." He released her.
"Do you have any juice?" Sophia was looking at the pictures on the wall.
"Check the fridge. Help yourself."
"Thank you," Carol said.
He said nothing.
"Thanks!" Sophia smiled warmly at him then went into the kitchen.
"You're welcome," he called back, looking at Carol with cold yet fiery eyes.
"Well, you have grown, but not up."
"You don't got the right to be pissy!" he softly hissed. "I do. I've earned it after five years."
"Yes, you have." She nodded. "I'm so sorry."
"Is this it? You came to tell me that?" He scoffed. "Well, that ain't enough."
"Then tell me what is? I'll tell you anything. I'll do anything to make up for what I did to you." She really didn't want to be the one to bring it up. She couldn't be the one to bring it up.
"You came to my house after four goddamn years of nothin', bring some little girl who is obviously your kid after you done told me and everybody else you couldn't have kids, and now you want me to drag the past up so you don't have to?" He shook his head. "You're a piece of work, lady."
"Let's discuss this like adults," she offered. "Do you have TV upstairs? Sophia doesn't need to hear this."
"Then why bring her? You tryin' make me feel guilty? Dial down the language? What?" He searched her eyes then tensed. His mind went completely blank, and he felt a little queasy. What the hell was happening right now? Was this happening? Was he just dreaming? Damn, he hoped he was dreaming. This couldn't be... She couldn't be... "Is...is she mine?"
Carol averted her eyes.
"Shit, Carol, tell me. Is she mine?"
"Sophia, honey, c'mere." Carol grabbed the remote and turned on the TV, finding cartoons for her to watch. "Stay here, okay? I'll be right back." She pointed upstairs with her thumb, and Daryl scoffed, but he went upstairs, and Carol followed.
He walked into the guest bedroom—well the old guest bedroom. It was his bedroom now. Carol noticed all of the changes in here. It was still the same color, but the carpet was gone, the curtains, the dressers and everything else he and Carol had put in here. He'd stripped it clean of anything to do with her. She didn't want to see their old bedroom. She was scared to see what he'd done to the rest of house.
She closed the door and took a deep breath, and Daryl was pacing back and forth. She was nervous. She didn't like when he paced. It made her stomach turn, and she had to stop herself from knotting her fingers.
"Daryl, I wish you would stop."
He didn't know how to feel anymore. He was trying to adjust to her being on his doorstep then in his living room, and now he may have a child. Nothing made sense. He kept thinking back, and it was all so disorienting. He was terrified, but felt a small flicker of light, of hope. He faced her. "Is she—my daughter?"
"I don't know."
He stared. "You don't know? You don't know!"
"Things sort of...overlapped. I know sometime within the week that I left and arrived, I got pregnant, but I don't know by who."
"How do you go from miscarrying our son to having an I-don't-know-who-the-father-is daughter?!"
She wrapped her arms around herself. "Please don't bring that up."
"Why the hell not?"
"Because it's painful, Daryl!" she shouted. "I was carrying him for nine months, and the day that was supposed to mean so much only hurts so much!"
"Well, unlike you, I embrace the pain! A hell of a lot came with you," he seethed.
She dropped her eyes. "I can't. That was the worst day of my life, and every year his birthday still comes, and I can't breathe or—or function, so please don't."
"Please? Don't? You're askin' me for a lot of favors after you left and may have had my kid. Tsk."
"She may not be yours," she snapped back, getting angry. "I don't know if you are or aren't her father, so don't go and assume you are!"
"Who else?"
"Who else what?"
"Who else might be her dad, Carol? How many guys did you screw? Do I needa make a list?"
"The entire college. I thought it would be fun, you know? Who needs degrees, I can easily get STDs!" She glared. "You're such a dick."
"Well, it seems you like that."
Oh, that was it! "I've only been with two men, Daryl!" she snapped. "You and Ed were the only two men I've ever slept with! It wasn't on purpose the first time! I was lonely and scared and I—I really, really missed you. Leaving this town wasn't my plan." Her voice gradually got smaller. "I wanted to stay and be with you, despite how much I wanted to go to college and become someone great, but after we lost him...everything changed." She wiped at the tears rolling down her cheeks. "You changed, and so did I."
He sat down on the bed, locking his hands behind his head.
"Only you got better and started doing really well with the garage. I felt left behind, but mostly, I felt like I was dragging you down. I left so you could have a real chance, and so that I didn't have to see the looks everyone gave me."
"If you wanted a fresh start, we coulda left." He lifted his head, dropping his hands, feeling very vulnerable. Like a damn pussy. "We coulda gone away and got a new life."
"I couldn't ask you to leave, Daryl. You have friends here, a good job making good money and your brother's here. I know how much you love him, and I couldn't ask you to leave for me."
"That shoulda been my decision, Carol." He stood up. "To go or to stay, it shoulda been our choice."
She shook her head. "I couldn't be a burden to you anymore. You deserved better."
"And look where it got me." He stood so they were shoulder to shoulder, his lungs burning as his anger seared, his breath came out harsh. "Say his name."
"What?" She frowned.
"Say. His. Name." His eyes burned into hers. "You didn't want him brought up and you called him "him" like if you don't say his name, it didn't happen. It did, it happened, so say his name."
She dropped her eyes and squeezed them shut. She couldn't. Even his name, those five letters, choked her. She couldn't.
"Just go. I don't want you here. Or your kid." He threw a gesture toward the door. "Get out."
She took a deep breath, but her emotions were overwhelming her. She left his bedroom, and she went to the bathroom and closed the door, leaning against it, trying to even her shaky breathing. She saw it'd changed too. His clothes were thrown about, combs littered the floor and the light wasn't even working. There was only some nightlight thing clipped into the wall. Despite all of that, she could see her reflection perfectly clear in the mirror across from her, and she looked down, setting a hand on her stomach. The last time she was to able to look in that mirror, she was pregnant with their son.
She collapsed, sobbing. She covered her mouth with her hands, muffling the loud sobs that tore through her. She hadn't thought about him in so long. She just kept pushing herself forward, trying to escape the past, but it finally caught up to her, and it wasn't going to let go. Ethan. Her baby boy who didn't make it. Ethan Dixon.
Daryl sat on the opposite side of the bathroom door, hearing Carol's sobs, and his chest felt heavy. He was going to drag her out and make her leave. He was so used to being cold and distant with people that he'd forgotten what it was like when he cared. To say he hated Carol would be an utter lie. He'd always loved Carol, and always thought because of who he was, he'd driven her away, but now he understood it now. Before, he refused to look at her side, only his, but now he understood. However, no matter how he cared for her, he wasn't going to let her just walk in and snatch his forgiveness. She would have to work for it if she really wanted his forgiveness. He would try and forgive her. He really would, but there was so much she'd done that cut him deep.
He used to think about what she did over and over to try and make himself hate her, to make it so much easier to wake up in the morning, but it never worked. Not even when she got distant after they lost Ethan and then tore up the nursery and crib that they'd worked so hard on. She would drink and cry and talk to no one, not even him when he asked how she was. And when she did talk, she would lash out, but mostly to herself. He knew she didn't want to hurt him, but in the end, all of the words didn't matter. Her words stayed, but she didn't. She left him all alone, just like everyone else in his life, after she vowed to never leave him, to always love him and stand by him. They were such fools, especially him because he bought her bullshit. He thought they would be together for a long time. Yeah, that worked out well.
He looked over when something shattered. He climbed to his feet and went downstairs, finding Sophia in the kitchen with grape juice and blood running down her leg. He kicked the pieces of glass aside while she apologized, trying not to cry.
"It's okay." He picked her up and set her on the counter. "It's just a glass." He grabbed a remotely clean washcloth and wet it. He began gently wiping off the blood. "You okay?"
"Yes."
He noticed small scars on her legs. "Clumsy, ain't you?"
"I'm so sorry."
"It's just a stupid glass," he assured her. "Got plenty more." If he bought them.
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, I'm sure." He finished wiping off the blood. "What, am I scary or somethin'?"
She looked up at him very closely, wanting to remember the face of the man who made her mommy so nervous in a good way for once. "No." She reached up without a pause and touched his stubble, smiling a little. "Does it get itchy?"
He just looked at her. He hadn't flinched when she touched him. He wasn't even tense. Why? No matter who touched him, even Carol, he flinched. How could this little girl be an exception? Was she his daughter? If she was, he'd missed almost five years, and if he pushed Carol away, he would also be pushing away his only chance to make up for lost time. He couldn't just ask her to do a DNA test, not outright—even if she owed him that. Carol was probably trying to raise Sophia by herself. If they became friends, maybe. Or maybe Carol's changed, and he should just ask her. He had to know either way. He wouldn't be the absent father. He wanted to prove—mainly to himself—that he was good enough to be a father, to be a good father.
Daryl looked over and saw Carol watching him, Sophia turned and smiled at her mom, and Carol joined them, hoping Sophia wouldn't notice her eyes.
"What happened?" Carol looked down at the puddle of grape juice. "Did she break something?"
"I dropped a glass." Sophia bit her bottom lip, still feeling bad.
"Oh, Daryl, I'm sorry." Carol picked Sophia up. "I'll pay you back."
"Woman, it was a glass. Just let it go." He tossed the rag into the sink.
"All right, we'll just be going. It's getting late, and I have a lot to do tomorrow."
"Like what?" Sophia asked.
"Like find a job," Carol answered, walking toward the door. "That's how Mommy pays for things."
"You need a job?" Daryl stepped closer.
"Yeah." She turned to him slightly. "I'll need to buy a place eventually and then get Sophia settled into a preschool. I'll need to find a babysitter, but my dad might be able to do that most days." Why was she telling him this? "So...yeah. Umm, it was...nice...seeing you again. Goodbye, Daryl."
"Uhh, I gotta job for you." He held his arms out, and she looked around. "This house needs cleaned up—new doors, new kitchen supplies, new paint, even some new windows. I don't have time right now. The shop and all."
"Are you serious?" She faced him. "Why do you want it fixed up?"
"I wanna sell."
Her heart dropped. "S—sell?"
"It's too big for me." He shrugged. "I'll help when I can too. I ain't gonna leave it all up to you."
She refused to let him sell this house. It was their house, even if they weren't together. They had a lot of good memories here, and they outweighed the bad. She wasn't going to let someone else move in here and ruin those happy times. There was no way in hell. If you fix it up nice enough, maybe he'll want to keep it, a voice in her head told her. She had to try, and she loved this type of thing. She also wanted to see what he'd done to the house these past five years and clean up any mess he may have made. "I'd love to. When do you want me here?"
"Don't matter."
"Flexible hours too." She smiled at him. "I'll come by, take some pictures and we'll discuss what needs to be done over lunch. Does that sound good?"
"Yeah." He was glad she agreed, probably a little more than he should've been. He couldn't deny that Carol being back made him feel—something for the first time in a long time. His feelings weren't good, but at least he had a chance now to have it out with her. She needed to hear his side, and tomorrow, she would.
"Can I help?" Sophia was looking at Daryl.
"It's up to your mama."
"Sure. We'll plant a garden. You love getting your hands dirty, don't you?"
"Yeah!"
Carol laughed. "Let's get home before the rain gets worse."
"Uh, hold on." He walked by her and opened the door. "See you tomorrow."
"Tomorrow." She nodded. They had a chance to...talk this way. Without Sophia breaking something or hearing their history, of course. That was something she never wanted Sophia to know. For as long as Sophia would buy it, Daryl was an old friend.
"Bye, Daryl." Sophia waved.
Carol glanced back at the house. This wasn't over. Daryl didn't go off, because Sophia was there, and he was probably pissed or confused. When she came by next, it was going to be painful for both of them. Her heart was already tightening in her chest. Daryl.
He watched them leave then closed the door. Sell? What the hell? He wasn't selling this house. He probably just pissed her off. He needed to get in good with her to find out if Sophia was his, and if he was being honest, he wanted to be something to her. She was the only person who ever considered his feelings, who made him a better man... Well, until that night. Perhaps with this, he'd be able to forgive her and himself. He couldn't hold onto his anger, otherwise he'd turn out just like his father. No way in hell was he letting that happen. He didn't let it happen then, and he wasn't letting it happen now.
Besides, he had to know what the hell happened to her. That phone call. The man yelling. Ed. What did she get into? Was she still running? From what and who? Huh, he could barely remember a time when Carol wasn't running.
– – –
That late Friday night when it was too cold for this shit, Daryl met Carol at her childhood home. She had been waiting outside for him, wearing her jean jacket and a dress. He thought she was stupid. Why in the hell would any girl wear a damn dress in this weather? Her freaking jacket covered most of it, so why?
"You came." She smiled at him, one of her curls falling in her face. "I'm so glad."
"You didn't tell me much. What's up?"
"My mom's getting married," she told him, swinging her leg, "to Hershel Greene."
"Congrats?"
"Don't." She slid off the rail. "I don't want congratulations. I just wanna say goodbye to my childhood home with my best friend. Is that too much to ask?"
"Sure. Where's this friend?"
"Daryl." She nudged him, almost laughing, and he chuckled a little.
"Fine, let's do this."
She took his hand and laced her fingers through his. She led him inside. It was really and unnecessarily dark, but Carol didn't want to turn any lights on. The moonlight was spilling in front the window, and it made her feel so sad. She could see her and Shawn as kids running through the house.
–
"Shawn, stop it!" she shouted, running into her bedroom while he chased with a water gun. "Stop!"
"Look out!"
Dad walked in at all the screaming and got squirted, Carol covered her mouth with her hand, wanting to laugh at how much trouble Shawn was going to get in, because there was prune juice in the gun, and that was their dad's favorite shirt.
Shawn visibly paled.
"Shawn Tanner," Dad began, walking toward him, but instead of yelling, he grabbed the gun and attacked Shawn. "You're next, little bookworm."
"Daddy, no!" Carol bolted.
"Go left," Shawn told his dad. "I'll go right."
"No, lead her outside. The hose." Dad headed for the backdoor.
Shawn headed for Carol, who was trying to open the adjoining bathroom door, but it was either locked or it was stuck. She heard Shawn and hid in the tub. He ran into the bathroom, looking around, though he knew Carol was hiding in the tub. That was her place to hide.
"Carol? Carol, c'mon, I'm not gonna hurt you."
She didn't say anything.
"Fine, I'll tell Dad you broke the lamp," he threatened. "We both know you can't beat me to the backyard."
"Don't you dare!" She climbed out and ran for the backyard, pushing open the door. "Dad—" She squealed as cold water shot at her, and she ducked, trying to take cover, but there was no cover. "Cheater!"
"Ha ha," Shawn laughed.
"Not so fast." Dad turned the hose on him.
"Trader!" Shawn covered his face. "Carol! Help!"
She didn't want to help him, but she didn't want Daddy to win. She grabbed a chuck of mud from the pool he'd created around her and threw it at him. It landed on his tennis shoes, but he stopped long enough to look down. She felt guilty for a whole second before Shawn threw more mud at him, and that's when they got into a mud fight. It was the best and most fun and most unexpected thing their dad had ever done. It was great.
–
Carol guided him into her bedroom. The light blue walls were filled with so many memories, all of them spoke to her, and she felt sick to be leaving them. The new owners wouldn't know any of these memories. They would be moving into someone's old house. They wouldn't know how Shawn kicked a hole in the wall or why.
–
Carol and Shawn sat in her room, just waiting. They had heard about an accident, and that the drivers were in pretty bad shape. Their mom had called, but they hadn't gotten any news. She was in the car, and they were worried she might've been hurt. They kept waiting for their dad to call, but he never did. It was so unlike him. He was doing volunteer work as always when he got a week off. He always spent a day or two helping the people who needed him and then the rest with them. He always called and told them how somebody was doing or how repainting was going. It unnerved Shawn.
Carol was restlessly running her fingers down the ear of Elle the elephant. She had recently learned that Elle meant "she" in French, so she named her that. It seemed to fit. "When are Mom and Daddy coming home?"
"I don't know, kid." He shrugged. "Soon, I bet."
"If they don't get home soon, can we have ice cream for dinner?"
"We can even break into the cookie jar," he promised.
At midnight, still there were no parents. Carol fell asleep after the sugar crash, but Shawn stayed up. He watched her alarm clock as time slipped away, and he wondered what was keeping them. They were never this late, and if they were, they'd call. They trusted Shawn to watch and protect Carol, but they always called. It was their annoying habit. Carol and Shawn hated it, but he needed it right now. He needed to know what the heck was going on. Where were they?
At three in the morning, Shawn finished half a pot of coffee. He heard the front door open, and he ran to meet them, smiling when he saw his mom. He hugged her tightly then moved to hug his dad, but his dad wasn't there. His smile faded when he saw his mom wasn't in the same clothes she left the house in yesterday morning, and the clothes she had worn were in a bag.
"Where's Dad?" Shawn asked, voice low.
"Mommy?" Carol groggily called. "Mom?"
Annette went into her room, sitting beside her and putting an arm around her shoulder, squeezing her arm. "Hey, pretty girl." She smiled, but there were tear stains on her cheeks.
"You're late." Carol yawned against her hand. "Where's Daddy?"
Shawn eyed her.
"Dad's not coming home tonight," she told them. "We'll talk about this in the morning. Get some sleep."
"What? Why?" Carol demanded, a whine in her voice. "He promised he'd teach me what little French he knew, and we were gonna watch some old movies. He promised. Did work call?" She rubbed her eye.
"No, but don't worry about any of that stuff. We can do that."
Carol frowned.
"Where's Dad?" Shawn demanded.
"Sha—"
"No, tell me," he shouted. He knew her. She was lying. She wouldn't be over seven hours late getting home and be in different clothes and not be with Dad if everything was all right. There was something wrong here. Dreadfully wrong, and maybe she was trying to protect them, but he didn't need protecting. He needed to know the truth. "Tell me where our father is! Don't lie!" He was jumpy from the coffee and upset from seeing the tear stains and the lack of makeup.
She sighed, tears filling her eyes and she took Carol's hand, meeting her eyes then Shawn's. "There was an accident," she confessed. "There was a car crash outside where Ethan..." Her voice broke, and Carol shifted onto her knees and wrapped her arms around her mom. "Your dad was hit by a car, and he was doing very well for a long time, but...he died."
Carol didn't say anything as tears swarmed her eyes, but she leaned forward and threw up into her trashcan. Mom held her hair and rubbed her back, looking at Shawn as he began to pace, wracking his hands through his hand, and he slammed his foot in the wall, breaking through.
"Shawn!" Annette stood up. "Don't break the house."
"It's a frigging wall," he screamed at her. "This is Dad! Dad's dead! The wall can be fixed, but Dad—Dad can't. He's... He's..." He slammed his fists into the wall, his shoulders shaking, and Annette tried to comfort him, but he back away. "Get away from me!"
She swallowed hard, still trying to get close enough to hold him, even though she knew he would fight. Shawn always rejected affection when he was angry or hurt. "I know you're hurting, so am I. Carol is too."
"Carol? Don't talk about Carol!" He glared through the tears, he felt as if all the weight in the world was resting on his chest. "You knew! You knew he was dying, and you couldn't call?! We didn't get to say goodbye or anything! What the hell is wrong with you?" He wasn't allow to cuss, but in that moment, it didn't matter. His non-curse words cut her deep. "God, don't touch me! Get off!" He pushed her away and stormed out of Carol's room. "You are so damn selfish!"
–
Daryl stiffened when Carol leaned into him, her hands against his sides, her nose against his neck, her hair at his nose. He could smell her shampoo, and it smelled nice, like coco. He didn't care about the smell when Carol's lips brushed his neck. She didn't mean anything by it, she was just moving her head back, but it made him gulp hard.
"I'm sorry." Her voice was very small. "I know you hate when people touch you. I just really wanted you to be here with me."
"It's okay," he mumbled, thinking over her words. 'I just really wanted you to be here with me'. No one had ever wanted him for anything. People needed him to do their dirty work, used him, but never really wanted him. It was a first that he didn't want to lose. He liked having Carol close anyway.
She took a deep breath and stepped back. She led him through each room of the house, lingering here and there. She never let go of his hand, and he liked that. Her hand was small, but warm and strong. It made him feel wanted for the first time since the fire. He still hadn't told her after all this time, and she wasn't a news person—not that it was recent news—so she didn't know. He wasn't going to tell her, not after losing her dad like this.
They made their way back to the living room, and Carol let his hand go and stood in the middle of the room, the moonlight pouring over her. She had spent so many Christmases and Thanksgivings naps and birthdays in this living room, not to mention all of the fights and bad days. When it was anyone's birthday, even his own, her dad would go all out and put up banners and balloons and streamers. He'd stay up all night if he had to. He never wanted them to feel forgotten. She would unquestionably miss this room the most.
"I didn't think it would be this hard." Her voice was thick. "I knew it would be difficult, but God, now it just hurts so much. I feel like I'm abandoning him, you know?"
He didn't say anything.
She turned to him. "Will you stay with me?"
"Till we leave, yeah, and after that if you want."
She nodded. "Sleep with me?"
He blinked. "Sl... What?"
"Sleep with me. I don't snore. I don't think anyway." She met his eyes. "I don't want to be alone tonight or be with them. I want to spend my last night here with you, if you don't mind."
"Define sleep," was all he said.
She blushed. "Oh! Not sex! No, no, no, no! I'm not ready or old enough or have really even heard the full talk without my dad or mom just stopping! I mean, I know what it is, but they didn't teach me. Not that I've looked it up or anything, I just—Lori explained it to me!"
He smirked. "You're just diggin' a deeper hole."
"I know. I'm so embarrassed." She was smiling though. "This is why I want you here." She closed the space between them and took his hands. "I love you, Daryl. I want you to know that in case something happens to either of us."
"Nothin' gonna happen."
"Good to know, but I still wanted you to know." She released his hands. "I won't make you sleep on cold floor, by the way." She grabbed the extra flannel blankets from the closet and laid them out. "I hid them while Shawn and Maggie were eating breakfast." She removed her jacket and folded it. "Makeshift pillow."
"Makes it all better." He lied down on the floor beside her, leaving his jacket on, and he felt her cover them up. After a minute of silence, he sat up, and so did she.
"Is something wrong?" She searched his face.
"I ain't ever spent the night with a girl," he admitted, face a little pink. Or someone who wasn't kin. "How's this gonna work?"
"I'm going to touch you inappropriately while you sleep." She giggled at his glare. "I'm gonna sleep on this side, and you're gonna sleep on that side. Deal?"
"Sure." He removed his jacket and folded it, lying back down.
"Oh, I cuddle in my sleep, by the way."
"Great." He rolled away from her.
"Hey! Body heat, I kinda need it!"
"Am I your best friend or slave?"
"You're my best friend." She kissed his cheek. "Good night." She lied down.
"Night." He tried to calm his stomach. He felt the knots twisting. "Best not try nothin'."
"Ooh, temping," she teased.
"Got my eye on you."
"Please! I've got my eye on you." She rolled over and nudged his shoulder as she said it, looking into his eyes. "Good night, Daryl. I love you." She was going to say that every time she said good night now. She didn't want them to forget, and she wanted to make sure the people in her life knew how much they mean to her.
"Night."
They woke up when Annette and Mr. Morales had come to get the door frame for Hershel's kitchen, and they found Carol and Daryl. It would've been fine if Carol had permission to invite him—she didn't—and it would've been fine if she had brought Shawn—she also didn't. It wasn't fine. It wasn't even a little okay.
In her sleep, Carol had stretched a leg over Daryl's hips, slipped her hand underneath his shirt—she did to warm her icy hands, very conscious of it—and her face buried in his shoulder. Annette assumed the worst from that and almost broke Carol's wrist yanking her away from Daryl. That was the first of many reasons why Hershel didn't like Daryl.