A/N: I've previously posted some drabbles on AO3 and here exploring nightmares that Carol might have but always felt I could've done more with that...which is why it'll feature in this story now. Semi-graphic descriptions ahead. Let me know your thoughts!Thanks to darylldixonn for beta-ing! :)
Chapter 1:
Carol carefully manoeuvred him to a sofa in a corner of the room. He sank down on it with a deep, exhausted sigh. She smiled mechanically following an old instinct that told her it was best to reassure him, before peering outside past the curtains to see if the sudden movement at the otherwise quiet grove had caught the attention of any nearby walkers.
"The fence is ridiculous…" he muttered, as if having read her thoughts "it'll only take a couple of them and before you know it they'll be banging at the door."
Her forehead creased into a frown while her eyes shifted back to his face. She knew that he was probably just worried for her safety and he'd never found it easy to express that. He was the kind of man who'd rather rebuild the fence himself than verbalise the concerns he might've had. But with everything that had taken place lately she felt the need to explain herself nonetheless.
"We found it like this. It's been quiet so far."
"Lucky," he nodded "we gotta take care of that."
The tiredness she'd felt before his arrival suddenly overwhelmed her. She didn't have the strength to fortify another place, to wait around nervously while someone she cared about went on a food run. For a few moments, for a little stretch of time at least she wanted to just be. But being was the kind of luxury one had to work hard for these days.
"Yes, we will." She forced a smile, knowing that she wouldn't fool him and quickly shifted her attention to his injuries.
"People," he answered her silent question.
She wanted to ask why but knew that no crime needed justification in the world they lived in now.
"How bad is it?" she inquired instead, brushing his hair out of his face so she could examine the cut on his forehead and the bruise that was beginning to grow more prominent around his eye.
"Is nothin'," he shrugged "I've had worse."
She nodded and smiled regretfully as this was not the first time she found herself in his words.
"Still…now is not the time to play hero. So let me take care of this."
He shrugged once more and glanced towards the window. Carol smiled to herself and let him, knowing that he would be more at ease this way.
Pushing her tiredness away, she got up from her place on the floor and busied herself heating up water. Once that was done, she grabbed a handful of flower petals that she had collected together with Mika and stored in a little bowl by the kitchen, and added that to the liquid.
Humming to herself she waited, inwardly counting the minutes, and then returned to the sofa.
"Hershel told me that warm water compresses mixed with calendula help with the swelling when you don't have ice packs available." She told him, dipping a rag into the water and then gently placing it onto his face.
Daryl only grunted and Carol assumed that it was too soon to expect any kind of emotional response from him. Not that she was willing to address or discover more about that particular loss either but she had chosen to honour Hershel by applying the methods he had taught her.
"What about your side? You haven't stopped clutching it since you got here."
"One of the pricks kicked me," Daryl grumbled in response "broke somethin', I reckon. It ain't as easily fixable as the rest with some water and herbs."
Once again Carol chose to ignore his lashing out and carefully moved a hand to the rim of his shirt instead.
"Can I?" she asked.
She always did and so did he. It was another mutual if silent agreement that permission was vital when it came to touches in more intimate places.
"Go ahead."
He removed his hand and watched her lift his shirt until the offending area became exposed. It was swollen and bruised. Smiling a little to cover up a grimace, Carol gingerly felt around to assess further damage that might have been caused.
"And which pricks did this?"
Daryl's lips momentarily tugged upwards into a smile. It was amusing when this soft-spoken woman used foul language.
"I don't know…just a bunch of assholes I ran into after I lost Beth."
The movements of her hands halted and she glanced up at him. "You were with Beth?"
"Yeah, after the prison…" he paused to gauge if she knew what had happened.
"I saw the fire." She nodded "Tyreese told me the rest."
"Mmh…we got split up. Beth and I ran away together…camped out for a couple of days…found shelter…"
His thoughts drifted back to the cabin, to the moonshine he could still taste on his tongue.
"The last place got overrun…we got split up too. I told her to meet me at the road but when I got there I just saw the backlights of a car…somebody took her."
"Were they the ones who did this to you? Did they see you?" Carol frowned.
"Nah," Daryl scoffed "they didn't stop for nothin'."
"Then who?"
"I started chasing the car, couldn't just let her go…it was stupid…" he angrily balled his hand into a fist "Just got tired in the end…blacked out at some junction…"
His eyes shifted towards the window, taking a sudden interest in the growing darkness, knowing that if she was to see him, it would be all too easy to deduct that he hadn't simply collapsed out of exhaustion.
To his relief she didn't seem interested in pursuing the matter further but gently prodded the bruised area once more.
"A rib's broken." She finally confirmed.
"Damn…" Daryl cursed, followed by a string of other choice words.
"You must've made them really angry."
"Nah…they're just pricks is all. Just like I said. They were like Merle…like my dad." He scoffed and turned his head away "Wanted me to join 'em…when I said I couldn't cause of Beth…"
"They weren't so pleased," Carol supplied, giving him a small smile.
"Took my bow and everythin'…" he muttered bitterly.
She nodded and allowed silence to settle over them once more. She knew how much that specific weapon meant to him and how hard he must've fought to get it back. He cared more about this one possession and the safety of the group than he'd ever care about his own well-being.
After a while, she reached out and squeezed his hand carefully.
"It needs to heal by itself though ice would've come in handy. I suppose a cold water compress will have to do the trick."
She tried her hand at another encouraging smile but only received a grunt and a nod in return.
"You have to try and take good, long breaths. It's a miracle you've even made it so far. The pain must be horrendous."
"I've had worse." He repeated, dragging up his shoulders like a child who didn't know what to do with itself.
She patted his hand and rose to her feet again, searching out the kitchen to fill a bowl with cold water this time. It had been fortunate that Tyreese had pumped some just before his departure but it didn't look like it would keep them for much longer either.
When she returned, Daryl had his eyes closed, and so she made an effort to lower the rag into the water as quietly as possible. Wringing it out, she then settled it carefully onto his exposed skin.
"Been thinkin'," he suddenly said and she almost startled, having expected him to have fallen asleep "you see those Terminus posters everywhere?"
"Mmh," she hummed, keeping focused on his chest.
"I reckon it's a trap. I reckon whoever took Beth brought her there."
"Do you want to check it out?" she asked, already knowing the answer.
"Gotta," he nodded "it's the only lead."
"Yeah," she smiled wistfully, her heart clenching at what was about to come next.
"Are you coming?"
"You should stay here for a bit, rest," she said evasively "those ribs will only get worse if you push yourself too far."
"Yeah," he brushed it off "but are you coming? You said Tyreese was here…who else?"
"Judith, Mika," she swallowed "Lizzie."
The last two names felt hollow on her tongue; empty shells for empty bodies.
Look at the flowers, Lizzie.
Her hand left the compress and settled over her mouth instead, trying to cover up the retching sound she was sure she had made.
"Then you gotta come," Daryl continued undeterred; perhaps she'd been silent, after all "they will have walked right into the trap. We gotta help them."
Her cheeks were forced into a smile that seemed to split them open. How could she possibly explain to him why she'd decided to never leave the grove? He surely knew by now what she had done to Karen and David. How would he ever forgive her if he learned the truth about Mika and Lizzie?
He was so selfless and kind-hearted that not for the first time she felt utterly unworthy of all the things he'd done for her in the past.
"I understand that you don't want to waste time," she eventually spoke, the words coming out more evenly than she felt "but if it's really a trap, you won't be of use to anyone if you come barging in with a broken rib. You take one hit and you're down."
"Alright," he sighed and if it hadn't been for the disappointed look in his eyes, she would've laughed at his huffy tone "guess I'm gonna rest then."
"Do that," she smiled softly "I'll keep an eye out for movement. Those assholes might've followed you."
"You think?" he glanced up at her and she shrugged.
"Why not? If they're like Merle, they'll be able to track you. And I don't suppose they let you go willingly once they were done?"
"Nah," he sighed, trying to push himself up on his elbows, clearly worried for her safety now.
"That's my point," she explained "so I'll keep watch while you sleep. If they come here, I'll need you to be well rested."
"Yeah…sure…" he replied reluctantly and sank back down on the sofa.
Carol leaned in to brush his hair out of his face once more and readjusted the compress around his eye and then shifted her position to be able to have a better view of the garden outside.
Despite his concern, he was asleep within minutes, his body clearly too worn out to put up much of a protest.
A deep, heavy sigh slipped past her lips and her hands started to shake. Everything hurt and everything was too much.
Someone seemed to tighten a grip around her lungs, squashing them until there wasn't enough oxygen left anymore, until her skull seemed to split open with the effort it took to keep being alive.
Another wave of nausea overwhelmed her, sent her tumbling off her chair and chasing down the hallway until she all but fell into the bathroom.
Her body was shaking, her chest heaving and every layer of clothing seemed too much. Fumbling for the edge of the sink, she pulled herself upright again and clumsily unbuttoned her shirt.
She needed water but didn't have the energy to backtrack to the kitchen now. Instead she peeled more fabric off her body, dropping it in a heap at her feet.
The person that was gazing back at her from the mirror looked gaunt and ragged, with bony shoulders and rings under her eyes. Her lips were chapped and dry and she futilely tried to moisten them with her tongue.
Her body lurched forward again and she sank her teeth into her lips, forcing herself not to make a sound. But this only pried a small piece of dry skin loose. She bit once more and tasted blood but didn't manage to get rid of it altogether.
Finally, she moved up a trembling hand and tugged it away. She had half expected to see a small trickle of blood but instead found a small but deep hole there, surely impossible to exist at such a location.
Taking another deep breath, she carefully let her tongue dart out to feel it but recoiled instantly when something pushed against it.
A worm had started its ascent from the hole. It wiggled and wobbled, trying to break free and then drew a slippery trail across her mouth.
Carol retched, loudly and forcefully, too frozen in terror to worry about Daryl now. When she opened her eyes again the worm was gone but peering out of the hole was the bud of a growing flower.
She trembled and quickly closed her lids again. Somewhere, her rational mind was yelling out to her.
It's only a dream, Sophia, there's no monster under your bed.
Only in mine.
And although it was difficult to convince herself now that there were no monsters, when the dead walked the face of the earth, she forced herself to open her eyes again.
No hole, no worm, no flower.
Only the echo of her beating heart.
For several minutes she remained hunched over the sink like that, trying to let the shock of the nightmare wear off. Then she wiped her forehead with the back of her hand and made her way slowly back to was still feeling faint, but most of the nausea had passed.
Daryl had remained fast asleep, wearing a peaceful expression that brought the first small smile to her face.
All that was left now was silence and the knowledge that she could never, ever divulge to anyone what she had done.
The dancing demon children were her only companions now.