Chapter 7:
Carol didn't sleep a wink that night although her tired body begged her to. Her thoughts were like a knotted mass that didn't allow for any more space in her brain. Everything twisted around itself, the same information over and over again with no new solutions in sight.
She felt restless and uneasy, stirring often when exhaustion threatened to drag her into oblivion. Every noise startled her. The soft rustling of leaves sounded like gunfire and the sigh of the wind between the trees reminded her of walker groans.
The earth they were sleeping on felt alive with movement. Ants were crawling into her shirt, burrowing their way under her skin to sleep nestled inside the corpses she still carried there.
"Get it together," she told herself, "don't wake him."
Her eyes slowly opened, peering into the dark, trying to make out if there were any figures moving about in the cover of the trees. But all was still.
She came to lie on her back once more, ignoring the shoulder-blade that ached in protest and urging herself to come up with a plan instead. There had to be a way to get them to Terminus while finding medical supplies along the way.
And food.
That definitely had to be on their list of priorities as well.
After a while, when her eyes started drifting shut again, an old familiar image appeared in front of her closed lids.
A web.
A web that she needed to find a way out of.
Dawn broke and awoke him from whatever little amount of sleep he had managed to get. It was as if his body had never stopped being alert, had expected a confrontation with Joe and his gang any minute.
He rolled on his side and a smile involuntarily crept onto his face when he spotted Carol next to him, curled up in a little ball, leaves and blades of grass entwined in her hair.
He resisted the urge to brush them away, remembering all too well the events of the previous day. But he was glad to see that she had managed to get some sleep, at least because if his body was any indication, they could both use any rest they could get.
As the sun slowly moved higher in the sky, Daryl reluctantly reached over and shook her carefully. She startled upright within seconds, frantically scanning the area for any attackers.
"Only me," his voice sounded raspy and hoarse and instinctively he reached down to his pants pocket to retrieve one of the water bottles he had stashed there but found none.
Frowning, he sat up too, feeling around in the dirt but eventually only discovered one. The other one must've gotten lost in the chase.
He cursed and rubbed his face.
"Your bruise?" Carol asked, misinterpreting the gesture and examining the mark around his eye that was just starting to fade.
"What? No…" he shook his head, looking up to make eye contact, "lost a bottle along the way. Sucks…supplies are already running so low."
She smiled compassionately and nodded. "We'll make it work."
He opened his mouth to ask her something but closed it again when he suddenly saw her wince.
"Are you hurt?"
"It's nothing," she shrugged, repeating the words he had said to her the first night at the grove, but the movement seemingly caused her more pain.
"Tell me…" he insisted gently, shifting closer.
"It's my own fault. I did something to my shoulder-blade yesterday when I was hiding from the horde. It doesn't feel right."
"Let me see." He suggested, motioning for her to turn around but she only frowned.
"We don't have time. We should get moving before it gets even lighter."
"Carol," he said more firmly this time, "if you think we have enough time to move slowly and to let me rest so that my rib's gonna heal, I think we have enough time for me to look at your injury."
"Fine…alright…" she sighed, reluctantly turning her back to him, "but only for a moment, then we start moving."
He didn't comment this time and instead carefully peeled off her coat. Underneath the remaining thin layer of clothing he could feel her flinch.
"I'm sorry if this is gonna hurt more now."
He rested his hand on her shoulder first to let her get used to his touch and then carefully shifted it lower.
"Can I?"
She swallowed and nodded. "Go ahead."
Nodding to himself as well as if to find some courage, he carefully spread his fingers so that his palm covered the entirety of her shoulder-blade.
"Painful?" he asked, instantly feeling stupid because the answer was an obvious one.
"Yes," she replied, getting his meaning, "more so than before."
"Feels intact though…just a little stiff. Maybe you moved it too much and strained it or it got shifted and then stayed at an uncomfortable angle."
"That's more likely," she explained, "I was hiding under a desk."
He could hear the embarrassment in her voice, as if this kind of behaviour just wasn't good enough for her anymore. He knew that it made her feel like the timid, nervous woman she had been under Ed's reign.
"Glad it kept you safe…" he muttered, unsure how else to express what he was thinking, "a strained shoulder-blade is a small price to pay. Could've been much worse."
"I know," she sighed deeply and he cursed inwardly.
He hadn't meant to make her feel even guiltier. Had instead been trying to express how relieved he was that she hadn't been injured more severely…or worse.
As the awkward silence grew between them, Daryl hurriedly lowered his hand to the hem of her shirt.
"Let me see if I can lower the pain a little at least?"
"Go ahead," she agreed and leant forward to give him easier access.
With a heart that suddenly seemed to be beating in his throat, he lifted up her shirt and allowed his hand to come in contact with her skin. It felt softer than he had ever imagined.
Pausing for a moment to gauge her reaction he then carefully moved higher, grazing more skin along the way. She felt warm and alive and the quickening of her breathing had to be an indication that she was excited by this as well.
Or was she just nervous?
Afraid even?
If only he could find some of Merle's bravado and stop second-guessing all the time.
"Tell me if it hurts too much, alright?" he mumbled.
"I will…" she nodded once more.
Taking a deep breath he began to caress the area around her shoulder-blade ever so gently, trying to ignore the fabric of her bra that kept brushing up against his hand.
"Mmh…" she sighed, "a little more…"
He hummed and applied more pressure, massaging away all the tension he encountered.
Clearly enjoying his admissions, Carol eventually leaned more into his touch and unbeknownst to either of them, they had both started remembering one evening at the prison that now seemed an eternity ago.
He had massaged her too then, trying to get a kink out of her shoulder that she had suffered from the backlash of one of the guns. It had been the first time that he had initiated physical contact like this. Before then it had always been her taking care of him, chasing his pain away with a soft caress or a soothing kiss on the forehead.
But that time it had been all him and he'd been surprised at her reaction, not shy and a little bit uncertain but welcoming and even flirtatious?
Her comments had taken him so off guard at least that he had responded with a knee-jerk rejecting response. Nonetheless, his shyness had been all too painfully obvious.
But while Carol's lips curled into a smile at the memory, Daryl's heart grew heavy and he exhaled deeply across her skin. The sensation caused the little hairs on her back to stand on end but he was too preoccupied to notice.
His thoughts once more lingered on the change she had undergone and of how much they had lost since that happier time at the prison. He knew that neither one of them would feel comfortable enough to engage in such light banter in the near future as well as he knew that dwelling on those days wouldn't do much to help him…and yet…
He missed the strong, caring woman who had been so openly devoted to everyone's well-being and so surprisingly quick at times to lovingly tease him.
"Are ya gonna be okay?" he asked, the words out of his mouth before he could take them back.
"Yes," she nodded, sighing softly again, "like you said it isn't badly injured. I'm sure it'll be fine."
"That's not what I meant," he explained carefully, "ya said last night that it wasn't the right time to talk. But will it ever be? Will you really be alright without talking?"
He could feel her tense beneath his hands.
"I won't feel like talking if you keep badgering me into it." She finally responded tersely and he gave her shoulder a little squeeze to let her know he meant no harm.
"You won't feel like talking if I don't do it either. Carol, I've been on this crazy ride with you since the beginning. I've lost people too! I know what it feels like!"
He had expected her to yell back, had prepared himself for the situation escalating quickly but she only nodded and rose to her feet.
"Then you shouldn't be with me. Nobody should be. It's not safe."
She started to bent down and scoop up her backpack when he caught her wrist and carefully tugged her closer against his body.
"I've never felt unsafe in your presence. How can I?" he smiled, "All you've ever done was look after me. Whatever you did at the prison…however wrong it was, I know you did it because you were trying to protect the group."
They held eye contact for quite some time and he could finally see the wall around her start to crumble. It wasn't completely gone and he knew that he hadn't discovered all of the darkness she carried around these days, but he had managed to win back a piece of her.
By the stunned silence and the way she repeatedly blinked away her tears he could see that she didn't know how to react or what to say and so he took a step back, letting go of her wrist.
"Is ya shoulder good enough to travel again?"
She looked perplexed for a second at this sudden change of topic, then smiled gratefully and nodded. "Yes, actually I've got a plan."
"That's a relief because I'm still clueless," he grinned, trying to further lighten the mood.
"I need to head back to the train tracks…"
"I thought we'd agreed that that's not a good idea what with Joe and his guys lurking nearby?"
"I still agree," she answered patiently, "all I want is one of those Terminus maps. On it are all the possible routes to our destination, plus all the other little cities and stations nearby. It's our best shot at finding a way that won't have us cross paths with those men again and find some supplies along the way."
"But if we start going now we won't have to waste time. I'm sure we'll find a route either way."
"Maybe," she acknowledged and then added, "or maybe by the time we've reached Terminus it'll be too late." She felt guilty for persuading him like this.
"Alright…" he rolled his eyes, "tell me one thing though."
"Mmh?" she arched an eyebrow.
"Why does it have to be you heading back to the tracks? Why can't it be me?"
He hated how childish he sounded.
"Because I'm the one with a strained shoulder and you're the one with a broken rib. Even with a map to guide us today will be exhausting and I want you to get as much rest as you can."
"You'll take the dagger." He interrupted her, holding it out to her and finally – when she started waving him off – he pushed it into her hand.
This time it was her turn to roll her eyes.
"I'll be back as soon as possible."
He watched her leave for the second time in 24 hours and felt the same sense of restlessness. He couldn't remember how long it had taken them from the train tracks to their current location but it still felt as if hours passed until she returned.
There was fresh blood glistening on the blade and her hair was more dishevelled than before. At least he had made the right decision when he had forced the weapon onto her.
"Here we go. I reckon Billingwood is our best shot." She explained, spreading out the map in front of him. "It's smaller than Payne but chances are we'll encounter fewer walkers and that the city will have been pillaged less."
"Alright," he agreed, taking the map from her and standing up straight, "let's go."