"In all the conversations we've had, you've never told me what you did before all of this?" Carol said, trying to distract Daryl, and get him to open up a bit. They were walking through the woods again, and she still had no idea where they were going. "I know Zach was guessing, did he ever get it right?"
"It doesn't matter, hasn't mattered for a long time," he grumbled.
Carol decided not to press. It was obviously something he didn't want to talk about, for one reason or another, and she could respect that. One day he would open up and tell her, on his own accord.
She could see a cabin, up ahead. "Is that where we're going?" she asked, pointing.
"Yeah, found this place with Michonne." Carol noticed a slight inflection when he said the name. She knew they had become close and it obviously hurt him to even speak her name. If Carol could only get him to believe there was a chance Michonne, and the others, were still alive.
"I was expecting a liquor store," Carol joked.
"This is better," Daryl replied, "Come on." He led her inside, checking quickly for walkers, then pointing at a bunch of mason jars on the table.
"No way," Carol muttered. "Is that moonshine?" Daryl looked surprised that she knew what it was. "Ed attempted to make it a few times. Never turned out that great, but it was drinkable."
Daryl grabbed a jar and unscrewed the lid. "Want a sip first? Might burn like hell when I pour this on your hand."
"It's been a while," Carol muttered. "But why not?" She lifted the jar to her lips and took a small drink. She immediately coughed and gasped as the liquor slid down her throat leaving a fiery trail in its wake. "Holy crap," she sputtered. "This is definitely the good stuff." The first sip was always the worst, but even her second drink left her almost breathless. The moonshine was definitely potent with an extremely high alcohol content. She felt her insides warming almost instantly and handed him back the jar. Carol unwrapped her hand and held it out to him. "Ready," she said, sucking in a breath and waiting for the sting.
Daryl slowly poured a bit of Moonshine on her palm and Carol bit the inside of her lip to keep from cursing. She resisted the urge to pull her hand away and shake off the burning sensation. He poured a bit more and Carol cringed. She was trying really hard not to act like a wuss, but it stung, badly. "Almost done," he said, trying to soothe her. Carol appreciated his attempt so much that it actually worked and she felt better. Daryl pulled a roll of gauze out of his pocket. "Found this even before you sliced yourself up, knew it would come in handy." He wrapped her hand up and finally the pain started to subside, though her palm still throbbed. She took the jar from his hand and downed another drink. "Might wanna slow down," Daryl warned.
Carol lifted another jar off the table and handed it to him. "Here, this one's for you." They were safely inside a cabin, the sun would be going down soon, and she was running out of ideas to loosen him up. Carol figured maybe the alcohol would do the trick.
"No, I'm good," Daryl said, waving it off.
"Why?" she asked. Carol knew from their time at the CDC and another time at the prison when they had found some wine on a run, that Daryl enjoyed a drink now and again. "We're safe in here," she said, assuming he was thinking about making sure one of them were sober enough to protect them.
Reluctantly he accepted the jar and took a drink. Carol noticed he didn't wince at all, even with the initial burn. That told her he must have had a lot of experience with moonshine or something similarly harsh. Carol took another drink and started to wander around the cabin while Daryl made himself comfortable on the couch. She picked up a God awful pink bra planter in the corner. "Oh my God, Ed came home with one of these once," she laughed. "I threw it out, the first chance I got. I mean, who walks into a store and says, yeah I'm going to spend money on that, right there."
"My old man would of. He was a dumbass," Daryl said gruffly. "He'd put that on top the TV and use it for target practice."
Carol's smile widened. He was talking about his dad, that was a start at least. "He shot things inside the house?" she asked, hoping he would continue.
"It was just a bunch of junk anyway, that's how I knew what this place was. That shed out there, my dad, he had a place just like this. You got your dumpster chair," Daryl pointed at a rough looking chair on the other side of the room. "That's for sitting in all summer drinking. Got your fancy buckets," he gestured again. "That's for spitting chaw in after your old lady tells you to stop smoking."
A walker growled somewhere outside, interrupting Daryl. "Want me to get it?" Carol asked. She was feeling the effects of the alcohol, but was pretty confident she could handle a lone walker.
"Nah, unless it gets too noisy," Daryl replied with a shake of his head.
Carol picked up a map sitting on a table. It was a map of Florida. "I always wanted to travel," she said. He had clammed up so she figured maybe if she kept talking he might chime in at some point. "But I've never been out of Georgia," she said with a laugh. "There are so many things I've never done. Never went on a real vacation or honeymoon. Never took Sophia camping. Never been hunting…" she added, looking at him and hoping for a reaction. "Wanna know something I've never told you?" Daryl looked up, but didn't speak. "In high school I was on the archery team," she laughed. "Only girl on the team. I was pretty good too." She looked at him and noticed he had perked up enough to indicate he was listening. "I've never shot a cross bow before," she said, gesturing at his weapon, "but I was damn good with a recurve." Carol continued, "Ed had a compound for bow hunting. I begged him to take me but he said hunting was for men. My job was to cook and clean and make him happy." Carol paused for a minute. "Asshole," she added.
There were a few moments of silence as Carol continued looking around the room, before finally taking a seat on the couch beside him. He was doing it again. Zoning out. Carol wasn't going to let that happen. A little liquid courage was making her pushier than she would normally have been. "Don't do that," she said. The edginess of her voice made him snap to attention and glare at her. She returned the glare. Carol did not back down to any one anymore. She had a lifetime too much of that. "Just talk to me Daryl," she urged him.
"Talk about what?" he asked icily. "You wanna know all the things I've never done?" his voice got louder. "Never tried frozen yogurt. Never had a pet pony. Never got a fucking thing from Santa Claus. Never relied on anyone for protection before," he added a jab at her. "Never relied on anyone for anything." Daryl stood up. "I have to piss and it sounds like our buddy is calling his friends out there." He picked up his crossbow and thrust it at her. "Never shot one before? Let's go," he grabbed her wrist roughly.
Carol's eyes flashed with anger as she wrenched her wrist away from him and yanked the crossbow out of his hands. No man would ever lay a hand on her, not even a drunk Daryl Dixon. "Don't ever do that again," she warned. His face distorted quickly as he realized what he had done. She knew he was sorry, and that was enough. She brushed angrily past him and headed outside. He was close behind, watching as she got the crossbow ready, ignoring her sore hand, the way she'd seen him do many times. Carol aimed at the walker and shot, just missing. It started coming after her and Daryl tried to take the crossbow from her. "No, I've got this," she said, aiming again and putting a bolt right between the walkers eyes. She lowered the weapon and shoved it at him, then retrieved the bolts and threw them at his feet.
"I still have to piss," he said, turning his back to her and peeing all over the walker she just killed. Carol crossed her arms and watched him. If he wasn't going to be discrete about it she wasn't going to look away. After Daryl zipped himself up he turned around. They shot daggers at each other for a moment before he spoke, still angry, "what do you want from me?"
Carol was ready to let him have it and she didn't hold back. "I want you to stop acting like you don't give a shit about anything or anyone. I know you and I know exactly what's going on in your head right now. Stop pretending that nothing we went through matters. Stop assuming that everyone is dead and not even bother looking just because it's easier to hide somewhere inside yourself and take the blame than actually find out if you're right or not."
"Is that what you think?" he yelled back.
"That's what I know," Carol hissed.
Daryl's eyes flashed, "You don't know nothing."
"I know you look at me and wonder if you could have saved others too. I know you will never forgive yourself for not doing more. But I'm important. I'm important to you. And you don't get to treat me like crap because you feel guilty that I'm the only one you saved." Carol watched his jaw clench as she spoke. "You are afraid to search for them because you're afraid of what we might or might not find."
"I ain't afraid of nothin," he shot back.
"Yes you are," Carol pushed. "Remember Sophia. We went through that together. I know you were terrified you wouldn't find her and you didn't. You're scared the same thing is going to happen again. And God forbid you ever let anyone get close to you, close enough to help."
"You wanna talk about me, but let's talk about you. Those two girls are dead and you haven't even spoke about them once, after those bodies we found. Who is delusional here? Who is afraid?" Daryl stepped closer to her, "Everyone we know is dead. Dead!"
"Daryl, stop," she tried. He was getting really worked up and even though she knew he needed to get it out, she wanted to keep it civil.
"No, they're dead. The governor rolled right up to our gates. Michonne wanted to keep looking for him and I told her it was pointless. Maybe if I hadn't stopped looking. Maybe if I'd helped her. That's on me. I gave up. It's all on me." Finally he was admitting what she knew was going on in his mind, but he was breaking her heart. She reached out to him and he pushed her hand away. "And Hershel… Carl wanted to take a shot at the Governor. I said no… maybe if I'd let him. Maybe I could have done something…" his voice cracked and he broke. Carol knew it had to happen sooner or later, and she was ready for it. She grabbed him and this time he didn't shove her away. He needed the comfort and quite honestly, she needed the comfort of comforting him. Carol wrapped him in her arms like a child and let him cry against her chest. She offered soothing coos, but other than that, said nothing. He just needed a moment to let it out and a moment of comfort from someone else. Carol was glad it was her.
When his sobs finally ended she held him a little longer and he let her. Eventually Daryl looked up and met her eyes. He said everything she needed to hear, I'm sorry, thank you, and I'm glad you're here, with only a look and she understood. She always understood everything he said to her without words.
Carol wasn't sure if it was the tender moment they had just shared or the alcohol increasing her boldness, but she touched his cheek with her uninjured hand. He didn't flinch, just continued to look into her eyes. It was all the invitation Carol needed to lean in and kiss him. When their lips met she shivered. She would be lying to herself if she didn't admit she had thought about this moment for a long time. Carol never expected it would happen quite like this and for a second she was concerned that maybe she was taking advantage of him in a weak moment. But when he responded immediately she knew the kiss was okay. She felt his arm wrap around her waist and draw her closer. It had been a long time for both of them, but the kiss wasn't the least bit awkward. It felt natural and almost desperate. When their tongues met they groaned in unison and Carol felt her heart rate double. She thread her fingers into his hair, once again ignoring the burn in the palm of her hand.
A distant growling caught their attention and they reluctantly parted. "Better get inside," Daryl said, grabbing his crossbow and gently touching the small of her back in a chivalrous act of urging the lady first. Carol went inside and he followed, taking time to ensure the door was safely latched. She wondered if he was taking a moment to collect himself and was scared he might overthink so Carol went to him and touched his back, urging him to turn. She reengaged the kiss the second he was facing her and they slipped right back into the comfortable, yet urgent, rhythm they were in outside.
Daryl guided her towards the couch and they kissed passionately the entire way. Carol was excited and terrified all at the same time, and she knew Daryl well enough to know he had to be feeling the same way. When they reached the couch she lay down and he hovered over her for a second before finally leaning in and finding her lips again. He held some of his weight off her, but their hips were pressed together and she could feel him, hard. Something stirred inside her with the knowledge of his arousal and her entire body flushed.
She wanted him. And Carol knew he wanted her too, whether it was lust, love or comfort though, she wasn't sure. Carol lifted her hips and wriggled herself against him making Daryl moan into her mouth. She had no idea what caused it, but suddenly he stopped and pulled away. "We shouldn't," he muttered apologetically. She sat up, looking confused and searching for an explanation. "I'm drunk. You're drunk," he began. "I know you've had a drunk man force himself on you far too often. I ain't gonna do that to you. You deserve better than that."
She smiled at his sense of honor. It didn't surprise her that Daryl would put her first. He always did. "You're not forcing anything on me," she said gently. "I want this." Carol looked away, she hated what she was about to say, but he was right. "Maybe tonight isn't the right time. I don't want either of us to feel like we took advantage of the other." Carol gave him a smile. "We have plenty of time. Let's drink. Talk. And see what happens tomorrow."
Daryl nodded and retrieved their mason jars. He handed Carol hers and they toasted. "To the future. And the best fuckin moonshine in Georgia."