A/N: Just a little reminder disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead or its characters, obviously, and I don't own the poem I've used in this chapter either ("When You Are Old" by William Butler Yeats). No infringement intended.
Carol dreaded falling asleep. She knew that when they woke up they would head back to the rest of the group and this glorious time together would end. Daryl seemed like he wanted them to stay close, but Carol wasn't sure how that was going to work when they were back with the others. Would Daryl feel comfortable with everyone knowing they were sleeping together? It made Carol feel awkward, but she would deal with that as it came. He was certainly worth any awkwardness they had to go through.
While Daryl checked to make sure all the windows and doors were secure before they turned in for the night, Carol browsed the bookshelves in the living room. She loved reading but had hardly ever had time for it, with motherhood and Ed's demands. She pulled out a poetry anthology and flipped through it. Daryl came over to see what she was holding. "Poetry?" He wrinkled his nose a bit.
"Hey, don't knock it till you try it," she said, bumping his shoulder with hers. "I had this great English teacher in high school. I didn't care about books or poetry or anything like that much until him. He made it come alive somehow."
Daryl smirked. "So you had a crush on him?"
Carol rolled her eyes. "No. He was just a great teacher. Probably the only good teacher I ever had growing up."
Daryl shook his head. "I didn't have any. They all treated me like trash." She looked up at him. He didn't seem affected by it, but she knew that his teachers' treatment of him was just one more wound that had made him the damaged person he was now. She loved him, wounds and all, and though she hated anyone who had ever hurt him, she also silently thanked them for making him strong and beautiful.
"Well, Mr. Fuller didn't treat anybody like trash," she continued, flipping through the pages. "I even remember the poem that really got me. It was by Yeats, and it stayed with me for years. I haven't thought about it in a while, though…"
Daryl stepped a little closer. "You think it's in there?"
"Oh, you're interested in poetry now?"
"I'm interested in what you like," he said, and her heart gave a little leap. She wondered if she would ever get used to his attention, to kind words from him.
"Here it is," she said when she found the title in the index. He gave a nod, indicating that she should read it.
She cleared her throat and began:
"When you are old and gray and full of sleep
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep.
How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true;
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face.
And bending down beside the glowing bars
Murmur a little sadly, how love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars."
He chuckled. "That sounds nice, but I'm not going to pretend it makes a whole lot of sense to me."
"No, it didn't to me either at first," she said, "but that one line got me: 'one man loved the pilgrim soul in you.' My little tenth grade heart just pounded at that line. I thought about it all the time, this notion that someone would come along and love my 'pilgrim soul.'"
"What does that mean? Pilgrim soul?"
"Lots of people think it means a lot of different things, but I always thought of the word pilgrim meaning somebody who wanders, somebody looking for a home. So he loves the truest part of her, the restless part that can't settle down. I always felt like I had that kind of soul, you know?"
"Did that teacher love your pilgrim soul?" he asked, flaring his nostrils a little.
"Daryl, are you jealous of my English teacher from more than twenty years ago?" she giggled. He shrugged, and she rested her hand on his forearm. "Daryl. Surely you've figured out by now that my pilgrim soul stopped wandering when I met you."
He looked down, shaking his head. "I never thought anybody would say somethin' like that to me."
Carol put her hand on his jaw to lift his face until he was looking at her. "You are the best man I've ever known. I'm not saying that because I'm in love with you. It's just true. You're kind, strong, smart, and brave, and anyone who ever made you feel otherwise was dumber than a drooling walker."
He gave a little smile, then his eyes drifted to her mouth. He drew closer to her and let their lips meet softly. Her mouth opened slightly and his tongue slid along her bottom lip. Carol's heart was in her throat. Had she really just told him that she was in love with him? He didn't seem to be scared by her declaration. On the contrary, he was deepening their kiss, tightening his grip on her waist, and breathing more heavily by the moment. "Are you tired?" he asked softly, when they pulled apart for a second.
"A little," she answered. "Do you want to go to bed?"
He nodded, taking her hand and leading her up the stairs. When they reached their bedroom, he shot her a shy glance. "Do you want to sleep? Or can I show you how much I love your pilgrim soul?"
They both laughed and took their time removing each other's clothes. This time their lovemaking was different. Slower, gentler. Daryl stroked every inch of her body with his fingertips, making her skin sing. He spent ages simply kissing her neck. When he finally entered her, he did so agonizingly slowly, pressing the tip of his cock just inside her entrance and waiting, looking into her eyes. Carol couldn't help thinking about how difficult it had been to get him to make eye contact when they were simply talking at camp or at Hershel's farm. Now he couldn't stop looking at her. His cock slid into her warm, wet center inch by inch, and when he was fully buried inside her, he closed his eyes and kissed her. She moaned into his mouth, slowly wrapping her legs around him and pulling him as deeply into her body as possible. Their bodies rocked together slowly until finally he changed the angle of his thrusts and the pressure of his lower abdomen created just the right friction for her release. As soon as she came, he too found his release, murmuring her name into her ear.
Carol woke from the most peaceful sleep of her life to find Daryl standing at the window, staring out into the night. He'd put on his pants and a sleeveless shirt.
"Is everything ok? Is it a walker?" She sat up, startled.
"No, we're ok," he said, not turning from the window.
"Why are you dressed?"
"I just thought I heard something out there, but I checked it out and there's nothing."
The moon was shining brightly into the window. "Are you coming back to bed?" Carol asked.
"I was just thinkin'."
Carol's heart jumped. Was he having a change of heart, especially now that it was time for them to rejoin the group? "About what?"
"Merle."
"Oh. Daryl. . ." Carol wasn't sure what to say. She wanted him to be able to talk to her about what happened with Merle, but she didn't want him to feel pressured. She reached out her hand to him, but he didn't take it. He looked out the window again.
"I killed him."
"You said he was bitten."
"That's right. He was bitten, but he shouldn't have been."
"Daryl, nobody should be bitten."
Daryl looked at her apologetically. "That's not what I mean. It ain't the same as what happened to your little girl. I always said nobody could kill Merle but Merle, and that's how it shoulda been."
"What happened?" She finally dared to ask.
Daryl was quiet for a long moment. "He was weak. Starvin.' He'd been out on his own for a long time. He said he'd been with a little group for a while but they'd all got taken out by a herd. He got away before the walkers could get him and never did find any survivors from his group. He'd been on the road by himself ever since. He had this big knife hooked onto his arm, where he'd cut off that hand. He'd killed a thousand walkers with that thing. He'd turned even harder than he was before, and Merle was already the toughest bastard ever walked the earth."
He was silent again, and Carol cleared her throat. "Was he. . .was he glad to see you?"
Daryl shook his head. "He was pissed. Couldn't believe I hadn't found him before, that I was still with Rick and T-Dog after they left him up on that roof. I tried to get him to come back to the group with me, told him we had food, told him we were safe when we were all together. He wouldn't have none of it. He said ain't nobody would ever love me but him. Said if I was any kinda brother I wouldn't ever leave him again."
"So you didn't."
"I didn't. And I mighta stayed with him forever, Carol." He looked at her then, measuring the impact of his words. She felt a tear fall but didn't bother to wipe it away. "He was my brother. I don't know how to explain it."
"You don't have to."
"When the walkers came, we just weren't ready. We'd been wanderin' around for days, tryin' to hunt but not comin' up with much. I was still tryin' to convince him to come back with me, but he shut me up every time I brought it up. We were weak, hungry, tired. One of 'em came up behind me while I was shootin' at another one, and while I was fightin' him off, I saw Merle go down. I couldn't get to him in time. I got the walker off of him but it was too late. He'd bit him in the neck, real bad. I almost wanted to take him back to Hershel, see what he could do. But I could see it in his eyes, just like with Dale. There wasn't no comin' back from that."
"So you put him down." It wasn't a question.
"No," he said. "I killed him."
"Daryl, it's not the same thing—"
"No, it is the same thing. I killed him when I let him go to Atlanta with those fools without taggin' along. I killed him when I went back to look for him and didn't keep goin' until I found him. I killed him when I didn't drag his sorry ass back to Rick and make him safe." His voice broke on the last word, and he put his head in his hands.
"You did everything you could. You loved him," she said simply. She held her hand out to him again. This time he took it and knelt beside the bed, putting his head in her lap. She held him while he sobbed, and without a word he crawled back under the covers with her and fell asleep.
In the morning light, they quietly packed their few belongings and locked up the house behind them, ready to rejoin the group. On his motorcycle, Carol rested her head against his back and clung tightly to him, wondering what they would face next.