Chapter Two
The next few days did little to alleviate Daryl's anger, especially when Merle talked about leaving to go see his supplier. Merle was a wild card in normal circumstances. He didn't need his brother hyped up on meth or whatever else it was he liked to dabble in. The elder Dixon had gotten in a good shot, and Daryl had the black eye to prove it, but Merle had backed down even if he wasn't happy about it. Once he'd calmed down, he'd even suggested they move on and part ways with the quarry camp. Daryl wouldn't hear of it. There was no way he'd leave those girls to Ed's mercy. Granted, there was little he could do, but there was always a chance, hope looming up before him like a specter that she'd eventually come to him for help.
Daryl grunted, shaking his head as he heard Merle roll over in his bedroll inside the tent. He sat outside, the glowing embers of their campfire barely illuminating his troubled features. His crossbow sat upon his lap, the wax softening in his callused fingers as he worked them over the cable. His fatigue from the day's hunt, nor the late hour seemed to faze him. He'd never needed much sleep anyway.
The camp was quiet, most of its occupants asleep. Only Shane seemed to be on guard duty atop Dale's RV with one of their few rifles. The peace and serenity were just another illusion, but it made it easy to find her immediately when Carol crawled from her tent and ran to the tree line and the path which led off towards the lake. He didn't hesitate for a second before slinging his crossbow over his back and rising to follow her. Shane had noticed nothing – or didn't want to – his watch focused in the opposite direction.
The hunter's feet were near silent on the path as he followed her, the woman his prey. Never to harm, he thought ruefully of her situation, but to protect. What could she be thinking to run away from the relative safety of the camp in the middle of the night? And why was she in such a hurry? The full moon illuminated the worn dirt path enough for her to see by, but her steps had to be painful in those thin little shoes she liked to wear. He listened to the panting breaths she left behind in her wake, the little whimpers of despair, of pain. He wouldn't have been able to turn around in good conscience and leave her alone.
Daryl paused at the edge of the tree line as the path opened up into the long ago depleted quarry, the dirt giving into gravel which led to the side of the lake and its crystalline waters. There were several large boulders he could have hidden behind in order to continue his watch over her, but he already felt guilty enough for his spying. I'm only here to make sure she stays out of trouble, he tried to convince himself. It would be fairly easy for her to find some, he was sure. She was distraught, that was clear, and out here with the very real threat of the walking dead, she wouldn't see them coming, whether it be a mile or six feet in front of her.
He crept closer, following the choked sobs and the muted splashing she made as she entered the water. Th' fuck? She's going to catch her death in that freezing water! Apparently, she thought the same since she'd barely made it ankle deep before she lowered herself to her haunches and furiously scrubbed her skin with the bar of soap she'd brought with her. He blushed to the roots of his dark chestnut hair, quickly ducking back behind the outcropping of rocks when he realized she was completely bare. He felt like a fucking peeping tom!
Daryl closed his eyes and sucked in a deep calming breath. You're here t' protect her, y' prick! Now's not th' time t' notice how lovely her ass is! When the splashing stopped, he peeked back over the ledge of his hiding spot to make sure she hadn't somehow drowned her fool self. Carol had returned to the shore. Her shoulders hunched dejectedly as she knelt there, holding a towel up to her chest. One hand was held to her mouth to stifle her sobs, but there was no way she could hide the way her entire body trembled under the pale moonlight.
He pulled the poncho off over his head and approached her cautiously. A muffled squeak tore from her throat as he settled the warm blanket over her shoulders. Quickly he threw up a hand and scuttled backward. "It's me. I'm not goin' to hurt y'."
"D-Daryl … " she breathed his name, catching the edge of the poncho before it could slip off of her. Even being alone with him – without the threat of her husband looming in the shadows – she couldn't seem to make eye contact with him.
"What're y' doin' out here in th' middle of th' night, woman? And here of all places?" he hissed, dropping down to his knees to scold her gently, to warn her of the dangers of being in the forest alone at night. "Too chilly t' be bathing out here at night. Gonna get sick."
She laughed bitterly, and he winced, not liking the sound at all. "If that were all I had to worry about," she mumbled as she met his eyes. "It's just what I've always done when … " She bit her lip and turned away, reaching for her discarded flannel gown. It was quickly pulled over her head and buttoned, the top one fastened just below the hollow of her throat.
"C'mon," he said gruffly when she had her shoes back on, reaching out to give her a hand up. "I'll walk you back t' camp." He refused the poncho as she held it out to him, taking it and wrapping it around her trembling form once more.
"Thank you," she responded shyly, ducking her head.
"I think those two words is th' only thing y' ever say t' me. Don'tcha have more in y' than that?" he challenged, keeping his pace slow and sedate. He wanted to enjoy walking through the forest with her, chatting with her without something coming along to steal her away, be it chores or her bastard husband. It was a strange feeling, but he felt good knowing he could at least protect her from the dangers of the forest.
He felt as though he'd been handed a boon as one corner of her full lips tilted up in some semblance of a smile. "It just seems you're always doing something for either me or my daughter. How rude would it be not to thank you?"
A comfortable silence fell between them. It was something unspoken between them without the need for words, an understanding of sorts. It was comforting and nice and soothed a bit of the ache beneath his skin. They were nearly back to camp when he found his tongue. "Are y' alright?"
"Of course … why wouldn't I be?" she asked, putting on a brave face. "I'm fine." Her standard answer when someone got too close. How many times had he replied in the same manner when Merle would ask?
"Bullshit!" he growled lowly, stepping into her personal space and then cursing when she shrank away from him. "You're shakin' like a leaf. That's as far from fine as it gets." He didn't wait for her to answer. Instead, he grabbed her hand in a gentle clasp and pulled her along behind him towards his campsite.
Carol followed meekly behind him, used to the rough handling no doubt because of Ed, but there was no fear directed towards his actions. With some surprise, he realized she trusted him. His stomach squirmed with live eels, or at least that's what it felt like to him. He didn't deserve it … not from her, not when he hadn't done anything to earn it. She sat down at his urging, her eyes darting towards the tent where her family slept before she turned those wide blue eyes on him.
He left her there by the dying fire for a quick moment, darting inside to raid Merle's stash of hard liquor. It was better than his drug habit, and Daryl wasn't about to judge him for it. There were more than a few men who'd turned to drink when the world fell apart. He sat next to her on the ground, his back against the log he'd moved there some time ago. Pouring a splash of the amber liquid into a tin cup, he held it out to her.
"G'on, take it."
Carol shook her head dolefully. "I don't drink, Daryl."
"You do tonight," he said, reaching for her hand and wrapping her cold fingers around the handle.
"Daryl, really –"
He cut her off. "It won't take th' pain away, but it might help you t' relax enough t' stop th' tremors." She glared defiantly at him as she tossed it back, his lips crooking in a smile as she sputtered and coughed. She gaped at him as he poured more into her cup. "Bit slower this time, woman," he cautioned.
Carol stared down into her cup, forcing herself to take a deep breath. "All I need is for Ed to smell liquor on my breath," she mumbled more to herself.
"Why d'you stay with him, Carol?" Daryl asked, his eyes boring into her with an intensity which surely frightened her, but he had to know. He had to hear it from her own lips.
She set the cup down between them on the ground and twisted her fingers together where they came to rest on her lap. "He's my husband," she murmured, dropping her gaze when she couldn't bear to look at the anger in his eyes any longer.
"That doesn't give 'im th' right t' beat on y' … t' rape you!" He kept his voice near a whisper, not wanting to wake his brother, but the way Carol seemed to shrink away from him, he could just as easily be screaming it at her. "Don't look at me like that, woman! I'd never hurt y'."
"I appreciate your concern – "
His eyes narrowed on her as he tilted her chin up with a gentle hand. "What's gonna happen when he gets tired of beating on y' an' starts in on Soph?" Tears welled in her eyes to spill over her lashes as her gaze swung over to her tent where Sophia slumbered peacefully. "Y' need t' leave 'im before it's too late."
"You think I haven't tried?" she whispered, a bitter note in her voice. "The last time left me hospitalized for three weeks, and he threatened if I did it again … he'd throw me out and never let me see my daughter again. No money, no job, no place to live. And that's if he didn't outright kill me. I can't very well protect my child if I'm dead."
"Let me help y'. Actually, we could help each other," Daryl smirked. "In case y' hadn't noticed, we're in th' middle of th' apocalypse. Money don't count for shit, woman. Neither do lawyers or judges. If y' want t' leave 'im, do it. Don't hide behind some flimsy excuse. Leave 'im, Carol. Me 'n Merle will protect you an' Soph."
"I can't ask you to do that."
"You're not. I'm offerin'." He prodded the dying fire, trying to coax just a bit of warmth from the softly glowing embers. "You're a fine cook, y' sew, look after almost everyone in the camp, do laundry … y' can do that for us, an' in exchange you'll be under our protection. Y' think ol' Ed would challenge th' Dixon brothers?"
Carol tilted her head to the side, studying him as she tried to puzzle him out. "You're a fine man, Daryl Dixon … but I can't drag you into my problems. You don't deserve that."
She slipped the poncho off her shoulders and folded it over the log before leaving him there watching her retreat to her tent. He was still reeling over her words. He couldn't remember anyone ever referring to him as a fine man. If she thought so highly of him – no matter how delusional she might be to think that – why wouldn't she take him up on his offer?
*.*.*
The tension Carol carried with her the rest of the week had her jumping at the least little noise. Sophia kept sending her questioning looks and Ed was beginning to take notice, much to her horror. Before Daryl had surprised her at the lake, she'd felt alone. She was always alone. Even in their crowded camp, she simply went through the motions doing her fair share. But she didn't feel part of the group… Not really. Ed didn't approve nor appreciate her getting close to anyone, especially when he feared she would find a way to break the hold he had over her.
Now, though, she began to notice the attention Daryl paid her. Quiet brooding stares she wasn't sure he even realized he was sending her way. He literally dogged her steps, and if he were delayed on a hunt, Merle took his place. It was unnerving, and God forbid her husband take note of it. She could just imagine the beating she'd receive if he thought her interest lay elsewhere. She was jumpy, waiting for something to happen to set the hunters off. She knew it was inevitable and didn't have a clue as to how to stop it.
Carol sighed as she pinned another of Sophia's socks to the clothes line, her azure gaze finding Daryl where he stood at the worn table next to his tent. She had found herself watching him too over the last few days, but he wasn't one to offer a smile. Normally, she would receive no more than a curt nod from him. She knew he was still angry with her refusal to let him help. He didn't realize how much she really wanted to accept his offer. But the terror which gripped her when she thought of what Ed would do to her was paralyzing.
How would she and Sophia be able to stay in the camp if Ed decided to fight her decision? She wouldn't be able to stand it if something happened to Daryl. He was the only person in the quarry camp who seemed to notice her situation. She was sure he couldn't be the only person; he was just the only one to offer to help her. It made her wonder about what he might have suffered in his own past. His angry outbursts and then sullen bouts of silence - where he wouldn't even talk to his brother - were testament to past abuse. She had to admit she wanted to know more about him. Something about the kindness he buried so deep. She just didn't know if she would ever get the chance.
Carol pinned the last articles of clothing from her basket to the line and let her eyes wander again. Her heart sank as she heard her daughter's musical laughter, because it wasn't coming from the direction she'd expected. Sophia was supposed to be with Carl and the two Morales children, having lessons with Lori. Instead her giggles were coming from just across the way at the Dixon campsite. And where was Ed? If he caught her over there again … She could already begin to feel the panic welling in her chest as she realized she'd let her earlier thoughts distract her enough to have let her lose track of him. It was possible – though not highly likely – that Shane or Dale could have cajoled him into doing something useful.
Sophia laughed again at something the elder Dixon said to her as they stood with Daryl around the outdoor table he used to clean his kills. The sound was infectious, and Carol found herself smiling – something she rarely did – her feet carrying her slowly towards the sound. With one more glance over her shoulder to make sure Ed wasn't lurking about ready to jump her unawares, she hurried over to the three of them.
"Look, Peach … like this," Merle instructed, showing her how to properly pull the tail feathers from the wild turkey he'd killed that morning. "If'n you do it right; we can make stuff with the feathers."
"Stop givin' m' feathers away, y' ass," Daryl groused, tossing a gizzard at his brother.
"Eww!" Sophia groaned, wrinkling her nose.
"Ew, nothin'. That's some fine eats," Merle said, winking at her.
"Daryl," she asked, turning her big blue eyes up to him. "What're you going to do with the feathers?"
He shrugged, continuing to pluck feathers from the larger of the three turkeys. "I dunno. Sometimes I use them t' make bolts for my crossbow. Not like I can run out t' the nearest Walmart t' buy more."
"Sophia? What – "
Merle turned at the sound of Carol's timid murmur and grinned. "Mouse, what brings y' over here?"
Carol sighed at the nickname, but knew it was pointless to call him on it. Merle Dixon did what he liked and didn't give a damn if it offended anyone. He'd been calling Sophia 'Peach' since they'd been introduced, and the girl beamed every time she heard it. Carol supposed she was just stuck with 'Mouse' for the time being.
"Just looking for Sophia, who isn't where she's supposed to be … as usual," she said, ruffling the girl's blonde locks affectionately.
Sophia cast her mother a pleading look. "I tried to study, Mom, but it was hard to concentrate. You know I don't like math. Besides, it's more fun helping Merle pluck the turkeys, and he promised to show me how to make something with the feathers."
Daryl snorted. "Arts an' crafts with th' Dixons, every mother's dream come true," he mumbled under his breath.
Merle ignored him and scooped up the steadily growing pile of feathers. "Come on, Peach. Yer mama can help while we have all th' fun."
Carol blinked owlishly at him as he and Sophia went to sit down next to the tent in the shade. Blushing, she looked to Daryl. "Do you mind … if I help, I mean?"
He cast her a glance from the corner of his eye and nodded stiffly. "Do y' even know how? You look more the type to buy your turkeys prepackaged and frozen at th' supermarket."
She huffed a short laugh, startling herself with the sound. "Yeah, Ed's not much on wild game, and I could probably laugh myself stupid thinking of him trying to hunt."
At the sound of her husband's name, Daryl stiffened and laid his knife aside on the table. "Are y' ok?"
Carol cursed herself inwardly for ruining the amicable mood between them. "Yeah … yeah, I'm ok."
He nodded, but she could see the muscle working in his cheek from the gnashing of his teeth. She'd really expected him to bring up his offer again, but apparently, he'd decided not to push. Instead, he simply dropped the third turkey in front of her and pointed to the tail feathers. "You ever plucked one of these before?"
"Hardly," she said, shaking her head ruefully.
"Well, that needs t' change. Th' days of supermarkets an' butcher shops are a thing of th' past. Y' need to learn t' live off th' land." He moved into her personal space and pulled the fowl closer, making sure he had her attention before turning back to the bird. He lifted a single feather and showed her where it protruded from the pimply flesh beneath. "See here, just pull gently so it comes out cleanly. One at a time so it doesn't break off … an' make sure your grip is firm, so th' quill doesn't cut y'."
Carol followed his instruction and found it to be quite easy with the right amount of strength. She worked quietly beside him, and before she knew it, she had a sizable pile next to her left elbow. They worked together fluidly, though neither of them spoke. She was happy to listen to Merle and Sophia's quiet chatter as he showed her how to use a little fishing line to make a headdress to cover her silky hair.
"Whatcha gonna make with your portion?" Daryl asked, his quiet voice dragging her attention back to him.
"I'm not sure exactly. Glenn brought back some root vegetables yesterday from that run he made with T-dog … potatoes, onions, carrots … I suppose I could get with the other ladies and make a stew for everyone." She tilted her head to the side as if she were giving it more than a passing thought.
"Sounds good. I think we have some foil left if you wanna roast it in the coals," he suggested. "There's wild herbs in th' forest t' give it flavor. I could show y' if y' want?"
Carol's smile slowly faded. "No, it would take too long, and Ed doesn't like to have to wait for his dinner. Besides, he never was too fond of roast turkey."
He slammed his knife down onto the table with a loud thump. "What about what you want, or what Sophia wants, huh?" The happy chatter at the front of his tent paused as Merle and Sophia turned to look at them. He picked up the knife again, this time to start cutting the turkeys into quarters. "Bastard doesn't deserve your kindness."
"Daryl, don't … please?" she breathed, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I don't have a choice. It's just how it is."
"Yeah, y' do," he hissed bitterly. "You're just a fuckin' coward."
Her eyes glittered with an inner strength she hadn't known she possessed. "I'm doing what I need to do to protect my daughter. Wouldn't you do the same for Merle?" she asked quietly, already knowing the answer. She knew he'd do practically anything for his brother.
Daryl stared at her for a long moment before wrapping her portion of the fowls in a cloth and holding it out to her. "There's nothin' more important than family, woman. You just need t' figure out which family you want t' belong t'."
"Why is saving me so important to you?"
"Because maybe if someone … fuck!" He caught himself before he could reveal too much to her. "It jus' is, ok?!"
Carol barely caught the portion he'd prepared for her as he thrust it at her and stormed off. Their tentative friendship was off to a rocky start. First her, and now him, each running from the other when things became too uncomfortable. Her chin dipped to her chest as she shook her head. Hurting him was the last thing she wanted to do. He'd been so good to her, and she didn't want to lose what was developing between them. She somehow knew if she gained his friendship, it would be a treasured gift, and oh how she wanted that. But she was afraid, and just didn't know how to get past that fear to grab what she wanted with both hands.