Thank you for the reviews/msgs! I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing it! I should add, since I haven't in awhile that I own nothing concerning TWD. Though I still wish I could have Norman. ;) But don't we all? Except for maybe you Chloe. hahaha! Enjoy, hugs and all that good stuff!
Carol woke with a start unsure of her surroundings. It was still dark and judging by the way the candles were only a bit further down than what she last remembered, she hadn't dozed long. Not too far off in the dark store she heard more rattling, although it was closer than it had been. Daryl was still asleep, but now curled up against her looking so peaceful. He really was a beautiful man. She had no idea how he didn't realize.
"They haven't fallen through yet. Get some rest. I'm keepin' an ear out."
She startled next to him, her book falling and bumping his arm.
"Fuck." He complained keeping his eyes shut.
She knew it couldn't have hurt him. "Sorry. I thought you were asleep. And I don't think the book bumped you that hard."
He'd get grumpy when he was first woken up – or when he was trying to sleep as she'd learned since leaving the farm.
"I was tryin' ta sleep." He griped.
The vent kept rattling with the sound of the creature crawling through it clumsily. It would stop for a bit and start up again, but it was getting closer. There was no way she was gonna close her eyes now. She let out a deep sigh and pushed herself up on her elbows.
Daryl rolled over from his side onto his stomach and beat the pillow with his fists. "Ughhhh, its fine. It's not gonna - " He started to say when the vent came crashing down only ten feet from where they lay.
Carol curled her legs behind her sliding off her side of the bed, reaching for the gun.
"Jesus Christ." Daryl cussed sounding more aggravated than worried, jumping up on his side. He gave a quick glance back eyeing the gun she held and made a grab for the bat. "Not the gun. We wanna do this quiet, in case there's more up there."
She joined him, aiming the flashlight straight ahead to the mess of plaster, metal, and the walker stirring a dust cloud in the middle of the isle way.
Daryl advanced on the rotting blond with close cropped hair. Her milky blue eyes strained against the light, her arms clawed at the air as she tried to lumber out of the debris. Carol moved the flashlight up for a split second to see where she'd fallen through. The batteries kicked back and the light flickered out. "Shit." She moaned.
"Shake the fuckin' thing! Turn it back on!"
"I'm trying!"
The scuffling and growling sounded closer. When it finally blinked on again the light was dim, but the walker was nearly a foot away from Daryl. Just as her grimy fingernail caught on the edge of his vest, Carol stepped back, aimed the gun, fired quickly and sent her flying backwards into a display rack.
Daryl blinked when the light hit his eyes, and made a grab for the gun. "Gimme that."
"Did she scratch you?" Carol asked, feeling the cold metal wobbling in her hand.
Daryl moved the light from the walker's legs stopping at a nasty bite mark all the way up to the head area. "Looks like ya got her." He cuffed her on the shoulder. "Now if we don't have any more of them bastards lurking up in there we might be able to get some fuckin' shut eye."
"I feel like we just crawled in that bed." Carol stated wearily.
"That's cause we just did not more than an hour and a half ago."
"How do you know that?" She asked.
Daryl reached inside his vest pocket, scrunching his face up, trying to grab a hold of something and then he pulled out a gold watch. "Took it from the display case earlier. It was keeping time still. I'll get some batteries for it before we split."
"I didn't know that - "
"What, that time was important to me? I used to have my grandpa's watch till we left the farm."
Carol frowned. She never knew, of course he kept to himself, she supposed he could have hidden it away the whole time. He certainly hadn't ever worn it.
After shining the light back up in the vent and listening for a few moments longer, they began walking back to the bed.
"You're grandpa, he must've been special? Just wondered, if you had his watch and all." Finding out more from Daryl was like picking through broken glass to find a treasure.
He was quiet for a moment looking like he was considering whether to carry on with the conversation or not. Once they reached the bed he held he covers up for her. When she hesitated, he made a sweeping motion for her to get back in. She let out a huff and rolled in, winding up on her back and set the gun on the end table.
He lay down next to her lacing his fingers behind his head. "I was five when he died. Merle drug me over to his place shortly after and was goin' through his stuff. That watch was the only thing he let me keep. Said it was a Rolex knock off, wasn't worth shit, but I held onto it."
Carol curled her body toward him and looked on as he twisted and turned the watch in his hand. "His looked like that?"
Daryl gave a slight nod without turning his head and let her take it out of his hands. "His had an inscription on the back side though."
Carol examined the gold watch. She stretched the band, ran her finger down the shiny face plate and turned it over in her hand staring at where the inscription would be. "What did it say?"
He yawned and flopped over facing her, but he was still some distance away on the huge bed. He reached to take it back, glancing at the back of it too, shrugging. His voice got quiet. "To my Thomas. With love, Marguerite."
It was strange hearing words like that coming from Daryl, as odd as it had sounded the day he came in with the Cherokee Rose and he beautiful story he'd told her. She didn't want to press him any further but hoped he'd tell her more. "I'd love to hear about them someday."
"Ain't much to tell. They got married, had my mama and her sister. Grandma, Mama and my aunt were killed in a car accident when I was four, Grandpa died a year after that. And that was when Merle's mama came back around."
Carol lifted up on her elbow. "Merle and you - "
Daryl shook his head. "Both Dixons, different mamas."
She marveled at the revelation. No wonder Daryl was so different than his brother. It was like a trick of the eye, from far way he and Merle seemed alike, both crass and rude, anti-social, quick to make assumptions and judgments. Once you cut to the heart of them the differences became clear, not only the age gap, but Daryl, now that he'd stepped out on his own, kinda like she had, was showing his true colors. And she couldn't imagine the hell Daryl must've caught long ago for being the black sheep of the family once Merle's mama had come back into the picture.
"Whatcha gawkin' at? You gonna get some sleep or what?"
"Do you think we both should sleep?" She asked, pausing before she laid her head down on her pillow.
"Do you hear anymore?" He asked.
"No." She answered.
"Good, then get your ass to sleep."
She let out a long huff and rolled away from him forcing her eyes closed. The air in the store was stuffy, but at least everything was quiet. After a long bout of silence, Daryl began flipping, turning and wrestling to get comfortable.
"Daryl." She groaned, getting no response aside from another shift in weight on the mattress. "Daryl." She complained a little louder.
"Ya think after sleepin' in the most God awful fuckin' places over the past ten months, I'd be able ta - "
He was still wiggling when she reached his side, kneeling next to him. She slowly brought her hand to his forehead and soothed a trail over the lines etched there. He frowned, eyes darting across the store until finally they met hers. "The hell are ya doin'?"
She had no idea. She just remembered that it used to help Sophia when she had trouble sleeping. "You need to stop, or you'll find a different bed." She kept her voice gentle but firm, not believing he wasn't putting up a fight with the way she was touching him. It was okay if he initiated physical contact, but rarely could she without him pulling away or flinching. Sometimes it was the same for her; she used to flinch at any contact other than Sophia's touch, so she could sympathize with him there.
Slowly she inched her way down next to him, sliding her arm around his abs. There was a six inch gap across the middle where his vest didn't meet and under his cotton shirt, she could feel the heat radiating through, warming her forearm.
"Better?" She asked softly.
He grumbled an indistinguishable response but was stiller than he'd been in the past ten minutes. It was another ten minutes before she felt him move again, like he'd been frozen in place the whole time.
He heard her breathe out his name, exasperated and almost to the point of whining. "Daryl, come on."
She was exhausted, she had to be, but just being next to her, sharing the same eighty by seventy-six inches of comfortable mattress with her made him jittery, like he'd downed a pot of coffee.
The flames from the candles he'd lit were sunken deep within the wax, their light dim, but giving off enough for him to see her face, her eyes searching his. He was afraid to bring his mouth across the space of about three inches to hers because he knew once he got started he might not stop, but everything inside him said she wouldn't. She just looked so tired, anxious for him to settle down with her in the bed she'd made.
Those thoughts scattered when she pushed forward into his space, her breath already catching before touching her lips lightly to his. It was a slight kiss, barely a taste that left him wanting more. An involuntary groan escaped him and his heartbeat picked up. He pushed up a little off the bed, bumping her mouth clumsily with his, hoping he hadn't hurt her, but she didn't seem to mind. Instead she nibbled back at his bottom lip gently, waiting in turn for his reaction. When he pursued her tongue with his own, her fingers wound under his vest, knotting up his shirt while her other hand moved up behind his neck pulling him deeper into the kiss. She had to feel him now, hard as a brick, pressed up against her thigh.
Her arms, her shoulders, her fingers – everything about her was so delicate compared to him. It'd been forever and a day since he felt the urge to bed a woman this strong and he didn't know if it stopped there. That's what spooked him more than anything, not the walkers, not other groups, the fact that he could meet his demise at any moment because then at least it'd be over - all the thinkin', all the worryin'. He didn't want to die, no way in hell, but carin' about her scared the hell out of him because if anything happened to her – he was done. And that's when he ended the kiss. Her hand had just pressed against his length, through his cargo's and he stopped her.
"What?" She asked, trying to catch her breath. "What's wrong?"
"Ain't nothin'." He told her, knowin' she wasn't gonna accept that answer.
"Daryl, what did I do?" She asked, worry obvious in her tone.
He took the covers and rolled over trying desperately to get his hard-on to go away. He thought about what he'd told her earlier, the watch, about Merle bein' his half brother. She didn't know nothin' about him. He couldn't do this to her, be with her and have her think he was some kinda 'Don fuckin' Juan.' He hoped she'd lie down but when he felt her stare hot on his back, his throat started burning. "Lay the fuck down."
He didn't mean for it to come out as harsh as he'd said it, but he couldn't let her in anymore than he had.
She surprised him by slipping out from under the covers. "You bastard." She whispered as she went by. Her shadow crossed in front of the light from the candles as she made her way to the couch she originally figured he'd be sleeping on. He heard her plop down throwing as much of a hissy as only Carol would be capable of and then it was her who was tossing, turning and making noise.
He let her go on for about five minutes before he got up and stood behind the couch. Unsure of what to do, he simply reached down in the dark, felt for her waist with both hands, latched on and easily hauled her up over his shoulder.
"Put me the hell down." She cried out in surprise, beating his back with her fists.
He smiled to himself as he watched her feet kicking. She honestly thought she stood a chance against him? "Yer layin' over here with me. Stay on your side if ya wanna, but damnit, ya ain't gettin' within five feet of me ya hear?"
"What does it matter to you?" She asked from where he dropped her on the messy bed, which had been neatly made only a few hours ago.
"I ain't answerin' anymore questions. Now go the hell to sleep."
"I would've been asleep if it hadn't been for you rolling around like a dog with an itch to scratch."
He bit his lips between his teeth when she said that. There was no way she was gonna catch him smilin'. The tension was too thick. She finally lay down as far away from him as she could get. It was now two a.m. by his new watch. He tucked it inside his vest pocket and closed his eyes.
In the morning when he woke, he found Carol had moved right up behind him, her arm laying over his arm and her lips pressed tightly to his bicep. If he turned his head just right, her hair was under his nose and smelled sweet, kinda like vanilla, one of his favorite flavors. He thought back to when his Grandma used to make white cake with homemade vanilla frosting. The memory had been lost to him until now. Being around her was bringin' it all back - the good, the bad, and the pain.
He knew when he moved she'd wake, but by his watch it was already nine. "Hey." He whispered. "We gotta go. It's late. We slept in."
"Hmm? What time is it?"
"'Bout nine."
She sat up the covers falling off her bare arms. "I could sleep another three." She said, smirking. "You ain't easy to lie next to."
He wanted to tell her no one said she had to when he remembered that he'd hauled her back into the bed, so he kept his mouth shut.
It took her less than fifteen minutes to change while he cooked up the tuna and some noodles he'd scavenged from the break room. She came back wearing dark jeans, new boots, and a thick blue hoodie over a matching t-shirt. And she'd found more water, a twenty-four pack of bottled spring water. She'd also found some cargo's for him, boxers, a white tank, belt, socks, and a new flannel shirt.
He muttered his 'thank yous' and took to scarfing down the food like it was goin' out of style.
"Do you want new boots?" She asked between bites.
He shook his head to tell her no. He was real particular about what he wore on his feet and so far his favorite pair had held up well, even against walker teeth in the ravine the day his own arrow had pierced his side. He winced thinking about it and the thought of Carol's lost little girl.
The trek across the hall proved easy. For some reason most of the walkers were still positioned near where they had escaped the day before. They both carried packs on their backs filled with the rest of the water, the iron for Lori and anything else of use they'd taken while in Penny's.
Just as they slipped through the door to the store the truck was parked near, she let out a squeal as he closed it cracking the bones in a hungry walker's hand. It jammed the door for a moment so he couldn't lock it, but then he kicked at it and all four digits fell to the floor looking like green sausages.
Carol made a gagging noise but turned around in time to get herself under control. "Oh God, Daryl."
There were a few more things they took on their way out of the store and loaded into the truck. It almost seemed too easy, their getaway. He wasn't sure whether it was sheer luck or if there was somethin' else goin' on. Either way, he didn't care. They were safe – she was safe. He thought eyeing, the small, sweet smelling woman next to him.
Once they reached the highway, she spun around in her seat and leaned through the back window, sifting through one of the backpacks.
"What the hell are ya doin'?" He asked, wanting in the worst way to make a grab for her ass, which was practically in his face.
"I got some stuff for the kids. Wait 'till you see." She said with the first real bit of happiness he'd heard in her voice since before Sophia and now he couldn't help but take his hand off the wheel and rub her arm.
She snapped to look at him, a slight sparkle in her eyes when they both heard a chopping sound overhead. He slowed the truck down, taking care to hold onto her to keep her from going through the windshield.
"What in God's name?" She cried, clamoring out the driver's side after him. They both shaded their eyes, standing on the side of the road as a helicopter, flying low buzzed over them, weaving this way and that, heading for the tree line about a mile or so into the forest ahead of them.
"Fucker's gonna crash." He yelled, pulling her down behind the truck in case it hit closer than what he estimated. They watched each other, eyes wide as the explosion rocked the air around them. Not as loud or as horrible as when the CDC exploded, but just as wild.
Slowly they stood up together and he felt her hand creep into his as they watched the smoke and then the flames rise up from the trees.