Chapter Sixty-Six
A/n: More smut, angst and all-around thangs! Here's your warning.
"Well, Dixon … now you've got me where you want me, what do you plan to do about it?"
His eyes darkened, only a cool ring of blue surrounding his blown pupils as she continued to grip his hair, her nails digging sharply into his scalp. Oh, how he loved her sass. No longer did she rely only on a soft touch. Now she allowed her passions free reign. She wasn't afraid to express her desires any longer, and he would be forever grateful. He shivered as she used her free hand to trace a scar next to his right nipple, unable to quell the low growl rumbling in his chest. She ground her hips down, slipping, sliding ever so sensuously over his cock, driving him mad with pleasure. He knew what she wanted, and right then he'd be lucky if he could pry them out of the small tub. His toes were squashed against the side and already a cramp was beginning to seize them.
Daryl grunted as pain shot through his foot, and Carol frowned, releasing her hold on his hair. "First thing I gotta do is figure out how t' get us outta this damn contraption," he growled. The pain was spreading into his calf, and he didn't know how much more he could stand.
Carol shifted, but that only seemed to make the situation worse, her foot becoming wedged in behind his back. She grimaced as she caught his eye. "Well, that went from sexy as all hell to fubar in three seconds."
He gritted his teeth, his hands falling to the edge of the tub, his nails digging into the worn wood as she slid over his cock once more. "Carol … unghf," he groaned. "For fuck's sake, stop movin'!" he commanded, his head falling back as his eyes slammed closed.
She did as he instructed, heat flooding her face as she felt him nudge against her clit. Biting her lip to stifle a moan, she fought against the urge to squeeze him with her thighs. "How do we end up in these situations?" she whimpered, feeling helpless and not liking it at all. Her desires and the need to help him warred with one another. He was in pain and there was nothing she could do at the moment.
"With help from well-meanin' fuckin' friends, that's how!" he hissed, his voice rising right along with his temper. "And I sure th' hell ain't callin' Rick t' come pry us outta here."
"I doubt he'd hear us anyway."
"Beside th' point!"
Carol leaned in and kissed him, a soft glide of her lips over his. The change of position helped ease her weight off his legs and give him room to move. Not much, but enough. She smiled, spreading nibbling little nips over his lower lip. "Better?"
"Cramp's easin' up, but that ain't helpin' us outta here," he grumbled, relaxing into her loose embrace, relieved to have some of the pressure off his leg.
His wife cocked her head to the side, her eyes narrowing as a plan formed in her mind. "Um … what if I …" They both gasped, the heated air hissing between them as she wiggled around on his lap and drew her leg up to wrap around his waist. Her foot wedged in behind him with the other, but it also had her full weight pressing down on his arousal. "Oh, god!"
Daryl whimpered pitifully, and dragged her against his chest, burying his face in the crook of her neck. "I swear, woman, you're gonna be th' death o' me yet." It was imperative he got them out of the blasted tub before he somehow injured himself or died from a severe case of the blue balls … whichever came first. And with Carol wrapped around him like a vine, it wasn't going to be easy. He was going to need leverage, and how was he supposed to get it crammed into the tub as they were? Not to mention, the water was getting colder by the second. Damnit!
She shifted again, a low moan whispering against the shell of his ear as her heat slid over his flagging erection … which sprang back with new life, earning a glare from her husband. "Oops!"
"Woman!"
Carol giggled and pressed her brow to his, nuzzling her nose against his own. "I'm sorry … it's just … I want you, Daryl," she purred, her voice husky and laced with desire.
His mouth fell open, the breath rushing from his lungs at her admission, seconds before her lips crashed into his, her tongue finding his in an instant, dueling sinuously. She rocked into him, seeking relief for the aching in her center, needing to feel him push his way inside, to bury himself deep and quench her thirst. "Yes! Please, baby … almost … " She wrapped her arms around his neck, trying in vain to lift up just a bit more, to give him room to thrust up inside.
With a howl of frustration, he braced both hands on the rim of the tub and pushed himself up. Carol squawked in alarm, not expecting him to make such a move, especially since things had been heading in a different direction. Her surprise turned into a blindingly bright smile … two seconds before he lost his balance and sent them hurtling over the side of the tub. Daryl grunted as he landed flat on his back, taking her weight atop himself as they sprawled there in a tangle of limbs. He supposed he should be thankful the damn tub hadn't flipped and drenched the floor.
"Are you ok?" she asked worriedly as he laid there staring blankly at the ceiling.
He blinked up at her, shaking the cobwebs from his mind as his arms banded around her. He sucked in a deep breath, happy to see his lungs were going to function properly. "Jus' thinkin' what Merle would say if he coulda seen that shit."
Carol giggled and placed a finger to his lips. "Shh … we must never speak of it," she said with mock seriousness. She brushed the hair away from his eyes, her fingers trailing over the side of his face. He remained still for her, letting her do with him as she wished. She was silent, pensive, studying every line and crag of his handsome features. "I love you, Daryl. I never knew I could love someone the way … the way I love you."
Daryl felt his eyes sting with unshed tears, hearing the depth of emotion pouring from his wife. Because there was no doubt in his mind she meant every word. He'd never thought to find anyone who would accept him as he was, certainly not with Merle tagging along behind him. But not only had she accepted him, but his brother as well. His throat closed over and he swallowed audibly, holding her gaze. He couldn't speak, but he could show her. He pressed his nose into her palm, his lips ghosting over her warm skin before he took her hand and placed it over his heart. "Yours … ain't never belonged t' no one else, an' never will again. Jus' yours, baby," he rasped, hoping he didn't sound too pathetic. It was hard to know for sure when he'd grown up with Merle trying to make a man out of him with his misguided logic.
But it must have been right – how could it not be coming straight from his heart – because she sealed her lips to his with renewed ardor, her hot little tongue delving deep to reignite the fire in his blood. She was done teasing, done with heartfelt professions of love. Now she just wanted his touch.
His work-roughened hand cupped the back of her head, holding her in place as he took charge of the kiss, plundering her mouth while his free hand explored her damp skin. Carol mewled against his lips as his clever fingers plucked at her nipples before ghosting lower, eager to continue what had been interrupted in their bath. Her nails dug into his chest as he cupped her mound, her hips grinding down against the heel of his hand, her head falling back onto her shoulders as she released a long keening cry.
Daryl's teeth scraped slowly over his lower lip in anticipation as he watched her through sloe-lidded eyes. He would never grow weary of watching her like this, when her lust was riding her hard and she let go of her inhibitions. He'd never seen anything more beautiful, and doubted he ever would again. He sat up, following her, his lips trailing over her swan-like neck to nip sharply at her collarbones. He breathed her in, the scent of sweet pea and peony from her body wash teasing his senses. He couldn't get enough of her. His palm closed over her breast, the taut bud pressing into the center of his hand, and he squeezed, eliciting another moan from deep in her throat, the sensation of both hands working her like a fine instrument driving her closer to the edge.
It was then those azure orbs opened and seared him with her inner fire. With one hand, she pulled his fingers from within her tight wet sheath and gripped his cock tightly with the other. He hissed at her touch, his heart thundering against his ribs as more blood surged into his engorged member, standing tall and proud, begging for more of her, wanting nothing more than for her to impale herself upon him.
Carol sucked in a sharp breath as she slid slowly down his length, her body shuddering with pleasure as she came to rest flush against him. He ignored the sting of her nails on his belly, the slight pain only increasing the lust searing through his body as her wet heat enveloped him. The urge to thrust was nearly uncontrollable, but he restrained himself. This was her show. He wouldn't take control from her until she asked.
His hands settled low on her hips, giving her a gentle squeeze before sliding around to cup the perfect swell of her heart-shaped ass. "C'mon, baby, take what y' want," he growled lowly, the rough timbre of his voice sending a shiver to dance along her spine and causing her eyes to darken further. "I wanna watch y' ride me, Carol."
The breath rushed out of her, a quiver in her thighs as she rocked forward, taking him deeper. She set a pace, torturously slow, teasing him from the inside out, wanting to savor him for as long as possible. She got lost in the liquid fire of his eyes, never letting her own fall closed, afraid she'd wake up from her wonderful dream and he'd be nothing but wisps of smoke to fade away and leave her shackled to the horrible reality she'd lived before the turn. She needed that connection, to look into the other half of her soul while she sought her pleasure only he could bring her.
"Daryl … I c-can't … I need …" she stammered, fighting her way up the peak only to slip back a bit. Carol growled in frustration, her hand planting in the center of his chest as her knee slipped for the third time in the puddle of bathwater surrounding them.
And though she wasn't able to finish a coherent thought, he understood. His arms wrapped around her, rolling with her, never losing that precious connection to her body … or her soul, her heart. They were one. His mouth crashed over hers, his teeth pulling gently at her lower lip as he thrust into her, back arching, her hips rising to meet his … over and over. Her nails scored his shoulders and made new tracks over the scars which littered his back, each new tingle of pain sending a fresh surge of fire through his veins.
He was close, but so was she, her walls fluttering in the first stirrings of her climax. His thrusts became erratic, his body shuddering out of control. Carol's legs wrapped around him, her entire frame going rigid as her body seized and catapulted over into bliss, dragging him with her. He rolled with her again, dragging her atop his chest as he thrust up into her one last time, his arms bands of steel around her, never wanting to let her go.
Carol nuzzled into the crook of his neck with a wide yawn as her breathing slowly came back to some semblance of normal. She couldn't help but notice the shiver which shook them both. "Cold?"
He nodded and pressed a kiss to her brow. "Yeah … I'm layin' in a puddle, but I'm too exhausted t' move."
A light chuckle met his ears. "Well, you can't stay down here on the floor wet and naked. Though I don't mind the naked part."
She sat up and reached for a towel, helping him to his shaking knees so she could dry him off. After she'd done the same, she spread the towel on the floor to soak up the excess water before nudging him towards the sofa. She crawled onto it, pressing herself between him and the back of the buttery soft leather cushions. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so safe, four walls and a roof with the added surety of her husband's arms around her. She felt as though she could sleep for a week.
Daryl fluffed his pillow and laid back with a yawn, pulling their quilt up beneath Carol's chin to make sure she stayed warm. The fire was still crackling merrily in the hearth, and he sent up a thanks that the former warden had been an uppity fucker who liked his creature comforts.
"Stop thinking so loud," she mumbled against his chest, her eyes too heavy to remain open.
He didn't even try to deny it. "Love you. Y' know that, right? I know I'm shit about m' feelings, but I … I show y' well enough, don't I?"
Carol's arm banded about his waist as her lips traced over his chest … over his heart. "You're perfect. I know ... I've always known."
*.*.*
"Daryl!"
He ran hell-bent down the dark corridor, the walls seeming to press in on him as he followed the sound of her voice. Sweat beaded on his brow, the icy hand of dread clutching his heart, as he barreled into yet another dead end, the ever-present moans and low snarling growls of the dead his constant companion. His left hand smacked against the cold concrete wall, shuffling feet carrying the walkers closer to him. His heart thundered against his ribs in time with the blood in his ears. His chest heaved with the panting breaths rushing past his lips, panic seeking to overwhelm him.
"Where are y'?!" he called frantically, his knife sinking into the eye socket of the nearest fiend as he rushed towards the dark, praying he'd find a way out, the right passage which would lead him to his woman.
"Daryl!"
Damnit, no! Her voice was now coming from the opposite direction. Every time he felt he was growing closer to her, she would be farther away. Why couldn't he find her? He pushed his legs harder, faster … he had to get to her before she was lost to him forever. He wouldn't stand by and watch her body lowered into a cold grave. Not her. Not his Carol … his beloved wife. He'd waited too long to find her. He couldn't go on without her.
"Daryl!"
Panic beat at the wall of his chest behind his breastbone as he heard her wailing despair, desperation in her tone. He turned again, clawing the stone walls, pushing himself forward. There had to be a way out! Pitch dark. A black so infinite, he'd swear he'd gone blind. Four walls … enclosing him … trapping him … no door … no window. His breathing ramped, and he could feel his throat constrict in terror.
"Daryl …"
His lips parted on a silent gasp. She was just there, her whisper echoing in the tomb in which he found himself. All was not lost, not if she were there with him. He regained some of the senses which had fled him in his panic, providing him enough cognition to search out the tiny flashlight he kept in a pocket of his cargoes. He took a deep breath as the torch flickered to life, the battery still somewhat strong. The beam swept the room, hitting the floor close to her boots, and he slowly trailed it up her body where she stood pressed against the wall, her hands down at her side.
She took a stumbling step towards him, her arms lifting, hands grasping. The muted beam of light centered on her face, and his heart plummeted, the milky paleness which had once been her bright azure eyes staring back at him. No, no, no, no, no, it reverberated over and over in his head like clamoring symbols. He was too late … he'd failed … just as he'd done his whole life. Yet, now he'd lost the one person he couldn't live without.
Daryl opened his arms, the knife falling from his numb fingers to clang loudly against the floor. He opened his arms to welcome her in death just as he had in life. He would not live in a world where she couldn't stand and fight and love by his side. She reached for him, her mouth opening, calling his name? And more unexpectedly, her palm swung and smacked him across his scruffy cheek.
"Daryl!"
His eyes shot open to stare up into his wife's worried gaze. The stinging in his cheek helped to clear his head, and he realized the slap he'd received in his dream had been very much real.
"You scared me half to death when I couldn't wake you up," she sniffled, her soft fingertips brushing at the wetness on his face. Tears of her own clung to her lashes, and her breathing was off-kilter.
He'd done that to her, and the realization just made him feel worse. Daryl kicked the quilt off of them, the room sweltering from the blazing fire in the hearth. He could only deduce Carol had gotten up earlier and fed more wood into the fire.
Daryl couldn't release her gaze, to see her bright blue eyes, warm and full of worry for him rather than the milky yellowed haze they'd been in his dream. His hands swept over her, searching her silken skin for injury, the nightmare still too close to the surface. He doubted he'd ever get the image of her walker out of his head. She bit her lip as he shifted beneath her, eyes darkening as his morning wood came in contact with her core. They hadn't dressed after their bath and subsequent loving the previous night, and the feel of her bare skin against his, his engorged cock sliding through her pooling wetness, made something inside him snap.
Carol squeaked in alarm as he rolled her beneath him, his eyes wild, nearly black, a feral growl working its way from deep in his chest. His hands were rough as he parted her thighs, falling heavily between them and pushing his cock deep within her. He could no longer look into her eyes, so wide and startled. He couldn't bear to look and see betrayal written there. Instead, he buried his face against the curve of her throat, his growl transforming into a whimper. It wasn't about lust or sex. His need was to be as close to her as possible, and this was the only way he knew to achieve it.
His need for connection warred with what he'd done to her. He'd practically forced himself on her, consent be damned, and he hated himself for it. Yet, instead of pulling away, he clasped her tighter, unable to let go. He was so mired in self-loathing, it took him a moment to register Carol's gentle hands carding through his hair, or the way she'd wrapped her legs so snugly around his hips, holding him within her as if she was afraid he'd come to his senses and pull away.
His voice was muffled against her neck, his lips smashed against her ivory skin. "I'm … sorry … so sorry …"
Carol pressed her lips against his hair in a soft kiss. "Shh," she whispered, her heart breaking for him. "Shh, love. It's ok … you're ok. I've got you."
"I didn't mean –"
"I know what you need, Daryl," she crooned, smoothing a hand over his back, her fingertips tracing the lines of his scars. "You were crying out in your sleep … the nightmare … You lost me all over again, didn't you?"
Daryl lost himself in her eyes once more, the love and understanding evident there feeding his soul. "Worse. You were … it was your walker," he croaked around the torment clogging his throat. "I … I wanted t' die too. You're everything t' me, woman. I jus' … what's th' point of livin' without y'?"
Tears stung her eyes and her heart gave a painful throb imagining the agony of his dream. There wasn't a one amongst the group who hadn't at some time had night terrors of their loved ones coming back as a walker. But she knew it was so much worse for Daryl. His whole life he'd had everything and everyone he'd ever loved brutally ripped away from him. There had been no one there for him, no one to soothe his pain, no one to tell him it would get better or that it would be alright. It tended to make every hardship he faced that much more difficult.
The soul deep connection she shared with him … she could see how much he was clinging to it, his need more than apparent. "I'm here, baby … right here with you, very much alive. It was just a nightmare," she cooed, trailing her fingers through the tears awash on his face. He stared at her as if he couldn't believe his own eyes, frozen in his despair.
Carol rolled her hips up, taking him deeper, and she smiled at the long hiss which rushed past his teeth. Color was slowly returning to his cheeks, and she could feel him grow harder within her. She raked her nails over his back, hot trails of pleasure-pain, the extra stimulation he needed to slowly coax him back to life. He ground his hips into her, her back arching, a low moan tearing from her throat as his pubic bone pressed into her clit. He held that pressure, needing to feel her hot and wet around his cock, skin to skin, two halves of the same whole joined in bliss.
He melted into her as she dragged him down to meet her lips, her kiss heightening his pleasure, giving him what he needed without having to ask. She fed his need, giving selflessly of herself as she urged him to move, to take what he needed from her without giving anything in return. She was his light, guiding him through the darkness, his life, his love, and he wouldn't do that to her. He wouldn't take from her and give nothing back.
Warmth seeped back into his frigid bones the more she touched him, the more of herself she gave only to him, and he began to come back to himself. His calloused hands roamed her body with new urgency, eager to please her, to push her closer to her peak. He concentrated his efforts on all the places he knew she liked to be touched, and brought his hot mouth to close over the taut bud of her right breast – which always seemed more sensitive than the left – capturing it between his teeth to give it a light nip. Carol mewled, arching into him as he thrust into her, his pace increasing as her hips rose to meet him. She was wrecked, needy, lost in a heady whirlwind of delicious sensation, so close he could feel a fresh surge of moisture drench his cock. A litany of please … yes! … harder … faster … fell from her kiss swollen lips with abandon, and he was eager, desperate to fulfill her desires.
Her chest heaved, her head thrown back against his pillow, her thighs quivering as her body went rigid beneath him and she went plummeting over into the abyss, her mouth forming a perfect little 'o' of pleasure. Daryl watched her fall, his climax rushing up to meet him, spurred by watching her achieve her own, knowing he'd brought her to such a state. He was a prideful ass! Nothing brought him greater satisfaction than knowing he could do that to her.
Carol's limbs locked around him, dragging his full weight down to rest against her, pressing her deeply into the soft cushions of the sofa. He didn't want to crush her, yet neither did he ever want to leave the love and comfort her embrace provided. It felt strange to allow himself to be so vulnerable, to let someone into his heart, but with her it was so easy, to just let go and let her love him.
Daryl was boneless, sated, and he never wanted to move again. He wanted to just lay there with her and forget the world as her fingers carded gently through his damp hair. But, of course, reality had to intrude. "I love you, Daryl," she murmured, tilting his face up to meet her gaze. "But you've got to let this go. If you don't it's going to eat you alive." She pressed a kiss to his brow and his arms tightened about her, showing her he was listening. "I will stand by you as long as I'm able. Protect me … love me … but don't fear for me. I'm a survivor … because of you. You made me strong, and together we're going to make it."
He propped himself up on an elbow and took her hand, bringing it to his lips to press a lingering kiss to her palm. "I'm tryin'. I'll never stop tryin' for you."
"That's all I can ask."
*.*.*
It hadn't taken them long to clean up the mess they'd made in their temporary sanctuary, emptying the wooden washtub and carrying it back between them to the block, their toiletries and dirty clothes nestled within, their bedding on top. It was barely dawn, the first streaks of pink and lavender tinting the sky in an array of color. Daryl couldn't remember the last time he'd slept so deeply. There was something to be said for the security of a locked door, and his family out of earshot. Carol's eyes were bright, and her cheeks flushed with healthy color, so he had no doubt she'd had an equally peaceful night.
It had done them a world of good to have an entire night to themselves, and he already had in mind a way to thank the sheriff's wife. It wasn't much, but she had done a solid favor – one from the heart – for his wife, and he didn't take that lightly. His woman was happy, and though he would no doubt have to stand for some good-natured ribbing, the smile lighting her entire face was worth it.
Carol collected his pillow and their toiletries from the tub where he dropped it next to the cold campfire, wanting to wash the rest and get it hung so the day's limited heat would have time to dry it before nightfall, before setting off towards the common room with him hand in hand. Most of their family was still asleep, the room's sole occupant standing near the makeshift counter holding the coffee maker waiting for the first pot to brew.
Daryl's face flushed a bright crimson as he met Lori's dark eyes, not missing the smug smirk teasing at her lips. "Good morning, Dixon, sleep well?" she asked, barely able to hide her grin. He grumbled incoherently, took the items from his wife to return to the perch, and made a hasty exit, leaving Carol there trying to hide a grin behind her hand.
She took a seat at the table closest to her friend while Lori poured them each a cup of coffee and brought it over. "You, ma'am, are not supposed to be drinking coffee. Caffeine is bad for the baby," Carol scolded.
The brunette winced as she watched Carol dump sugar and powdered creamer – much more than what was healthy – into her cup. "I'm not drinking it, mom. I know I can't have it, but I can sit here and smell it, can't I?" Carol snorted, but didn't argue. "So," Lori began, dragging out the word playfully. "How was your evening? Did you have fun?"
Carol blushed over the rim of her cup, moaning in delight as the first sip of the brew washed over her tongue. "Yes," she answered, looking off towards the door to make sure they were still alone. "It was perfect, and I don't know how I'll ever be able to thank you for such a gift. And if you're ever able to talk Rick into it, I suggest you take a night for yourselves in the same manner. I can't remember the last time I slept so well."
"Sleep, huh?" she asked with the raising of a dubious brow. "Judging by those love bites on your neck, I'd say you did more than sleep."
Carol's blush deepened as her lips parted on a laugh. "Oh, hush it, you! I swear, you're as bad as the girls with their gossip … and Glenn!"
"Somebody say my name?" the man in question asked, still rubbing sleep from his eyes as he headed straight for the coffee pot. He had been ecstatic when they'd found the institutional sized brew station in the prison's cafeteria … along with a fifty-pound sack of coffee grounds. He caught Carol's eye as he poured himself a cup. "Hey, where were you and Daryl last night? I didn't see your names on the watch rotation."
Carol ducked her head sheepishly and took another sip of java, using her beverage as a reason to avoid answering. Daryl could be heard in the block banging on cell doors as he tried to rouse those scheduled for work detail. It wasn't long before Alexandra rushed into the room and began readying things for breakfast. Daryl followed and made a beeline straight for Lori, dropping a pile of rabbit pelts on the table before her.
She blinked owlishly up at him as her fingers carded through the soft furs. "What's all this?"
Daryl's gaze darted over to his wife, raising his thumb to his mouth to gnaw the cuticle for a moment before finding his voice. "I … I make stuff with th' pelts. Made Soph a sheath for th' knife she keeps in her boot. They're dead useful for lots o' things. Been savin' those for th' little one comin'. Thought they could be pieced together t' make a nice blanket." He took the coffee cup from Carol she'd poured for him and drank deeply of the black liquid. "If y' cain't sew, I'm sure Carol or Sophia wouldn't mind helpin' y'."
"Daryl, you don't have to –"
He cut her off, mumbling into his cup. "Wanted t' say thank y', for what y' did for m' wife. It means a lot t' me, knowin' she's got a friend like you."
Daryl turned on his heel before she could say anything more, not wanting to get sucked into a conversation where he'd be forced to make small talk or accept compliments, both of which made him uncomfortable.
Lori brought one of the pelts to her cheek, sighing over the softness against her skin. "I think that's the nicest thing your husband has ever said to me. He didn't even call me Olive Oyl."
Glenn choked on a laugh, and Carol reached over to squeeze Lori's hand. "You know he doesn't mean anything by it. Think of it as a Dixon term of endearment?"
The brunette arched a brow at her. "Is there such a thing?"
Carol nodded. "Better than Merle calling Andrea 'sugar tits'."
*.*.*
Carol huffed an irritated sigh and stared down at the binder spread across her lap, trying to organize a schedule for the upcoming week. She could feel her husband's protective gaze slide over her as he and Glenn passed to toss another corpse into the back of the silver Dodge. Her gaze remained focused on her task, her aggravation with his highhandedness refusing to allow her to even acknowledge his presence.
"How long are you going to give him the silent treatment?" Lori asked, nudging her with an elbow. She'd been sitting with Carol at the picnic table in the courtyard for the better part of an hour working on the schedules, and they'd gotten very little done due to her friend's upset. "Dixon doesn't look the type to like that sort of thing."
Carol pinched the bridge of her nose, hoping to ward off the headache forming behind her eyes. "He doesn't, which is the point. He'd rather it if I would yell and scream and get the matter solved. He isn't too keen on the prospect of silence."
At one time, he would have preferred keeping his feelings bottled up, to let them fester so he could brood and sulk. But over the past months, venturing into this open relationship with her, it bothered him terribly. He wanted to know what she was thinking and feeling. There was no room for ill will between the two of them. At any moment, their time could be up, and neither wanted their last words to one another to be ones spoken in anger. Well too bad, she thought hotly. He could just wonder about it until the last walker dropped dead of natural causes.
"He's just worried about you, Carol."
She made another notation in the binder without looking up. "I'm sure he is," she replied tightly.
Carol had no doubt he was worried. Their circumstances there at the prison weren't the best, and combined with what had happened due to their renegade convict and the dream he'd had last night, it was making him irrational. She hadn't taken his 'in my sight' to mean in the literal sense. How was she supposed to get any of her own work done if she was practically glued to his side?
She'd thought nothing of it when breakfast had been served and he'd coaxed her outside with him to eat before they began work for the day, believing he'd just wanted them to be alone as they had the previous evening. Glenn, Jamie and the rest of the Marines had come out shortly afterwards to begin removing bodies from the tombs and courtyard. They had plans to bring them outside the fences for burning. But as they'd begun their work, Carol could no longer linger. She, Lori and the children had planned to clean the newly discovered library, and she was anxious to begin.
Rick had been a bit anxious to allow them down there, but hadn't had the nerve to forbid it. Not with Lori giving him the stink-eye. Instead the ball-less bastard had run to Daryl to tattle on them under the guise of asking his opinion. He'd stared at Rick for almost a full minute – enough time for his face to take on an unhealthy stroke level shade of red – before he'd marched down to the tombs to confront his wife. He'd been so furious to find her there, he hadn't been capable of speech. He'd simply tossed her over his shoulder, grabbed Sophia's hand and stalked back up to the courtyard.
Carl and Lori had followed, and she'd quickly sent the children off for watch duty. If there was going to be a fight between Sophia's parents, Lori thought it best the girl didn't have to witness it. Daryl had set Carol gently on the driver's side of the truck and given her a death glare – which would have had anyone else quaking in their boots – daring her to move. She'd obeyed his silent command for well on to an hour, driving out beyond the fences each time the bed filled, Daryl perched on the edge of the tailgate next to Glenn and Jamie.
Carol thought he would have calmed down a bit after the third trip, and had ventured back inside once more, thinking of a dozen other things she needed to attend. He'd followed her once more and packed her back outside. She knew he was battling his fears of losing her, but this was getting ridiculous. After the fourth time … she'd been downright pissed, and he knew he was treading on thin ice. He'd even threatened to borrow Rick's cuffs and secure her in the cab of the truck if he had to fetch her one more time. Finally, she'd come to a compromise. If he'd let her work on the schedules, she'd promise to remain outside in the courtyard where he could see her.
She tapped her pencil against her chin and sighed. "I don't even know how I'm going to finish the schedule if I have to worry about him carting me off with him somewhere every time I have a chore to do," she huffed, glaring at her husband as the truck rumbled towards the gate. His eyes never left her during the short ride, and she was having a hard time letting go of her irritation.
Lori wrapped a comforting arm around Carol's shoulders and gave her a reassuring squeeze. "Honey, he loves you. Anyone not deaf, dumb or blind can see it. After what happened, he's terrified of losing you."
"After what happened, he should realize I can take care of myself!" she snapped.
The brunette chuffed a laugh. "Men are not rational when they're scared. Perhaps instead of getting upset with him, you should think of what your life was like before Daryl came into it."
Carol deflated, her shoulders slumping. She brought a hand up to cover her horrified gasp, her eyes filling with misery as she looked at her friend. She shuddered at the thought of still being under Ed's thumb. She doubted she would have made it much past the quarry. "Oh, my god, I'm being such a shit!"
"He's trying to protect you," she said with a definitive nod. "Just going about it the wrong way, I suppose. Tell you what … for the next week, just schedule yourself on all his shifts. We can handle all the other chores without you."
Carol arched a dubious brow. "Seriously?"
"Oh, come on! We can do this," Lori protested laughingly. "And would it really be so bad to spend time with your husband? You're getting as good as Sophia with hunting and tracking, and it's no hardship to take a watch shift with him. Beats the hell out of scrubbing walker guts out of this place. Think of it as a learning experience."
"And it'll make him happy." Which was all she wanted for him … his happiness. A slow smile curved her lips. No, it would be no hardship at all.
Lori frowned as the bonfires were lit and thick black smoke curled towards the sky. She pointed out to where their men stood, preparing to return. "I hope those fires don't draw any unwanted attention."
"We don't have a choice. Their disposal was one of Rick's top priorities and it was agreed upon by the rest of the men." She finished her notations in her binder and closed it. "Let's just hope they're right. More trouble is the last thing we need."
*.*.*
"Woman!" Merle glowered at his woman as she climbed the ladder to take her place at his side on the wall. "I believe I toldja t' stay yer ass in bed."
Martine scowled right back at him as she pulled her bow off her shoulder and looked out over the graveyard of cars, debris and walker corpses which made up the road leading to Woodbury. She shook the pack of saltines – clutched in her other hand – at her chosen mate. She knew she looked awful, little better than one of the biters roaming in the distance, her eyes shadowed with circles from lack of sleep, her skin pale beneath her natural olive complexion, and a permanent frown marring her brow. She was beginning to think the morning sickness was going to end her faster than any known threat to man.
"Don't need y' tellin' me what t' do, Merle Dixon," she grumbled before turning a benevolent smile on the governor, effectively hiding her revulsion for the man. "Good mornin', Mr. Blake."
She inwardly flinched at his smarmy smile. "Good day to you, too, Martine. Are you feeling any better?" At her raised brow, he nodded at Merle. "Merle, here, says you haven't been feeling well lately."
"Nothin' t' worry about, sir. I'll live," she said, moving to Merle's right and stuffing a cracker into her mouth. She elbowed him in the ribs – more sharply than necessary due to his big mouth – and nodded towards the eastern horizon over the treetops. "Somethin's burnin'."
Dixon's eyes narrowed.
Blake shrugged as he lined up another golf ball on the plastic tee. "Probably some survivors trying to warm themselves over their campfire."
Merle shook his head, knowing from experience it was more than a campfire. Billowing black smoke meant something big. He turned his head towards the boss man, waiting for him to take his swing with the club. "Want me t' check it out? Me an' Marty could get there an' back by mornin'."
Philip tightened the glove on his hand and looked back over the quiet streets of his town. "No, you've been running so much lately, and with Martine being under the weather, I think I'll send Shumpert. He's been itching to get out and stretch his legs."
Merle hummed in agreement, not at all comfortable with the man sending out his henchmen. At least he didn't have to worry about Daryl and the rest of the group coming across anyone from Woodbury. Not with them still safely tucked away in Griffin. He hoped Abe's team would return with a message for him. Despite his tendency to quarrel with the youngest Dixon, Merle did love his brother. Marty leaned into him almost in relief as Blake grew tired of his backswing and climbed down off the wall to assign men to a scouting run.
She was thankful for the crackers, and more grateful for the peace and quiet watch on the wall provided some days.
"Heads up, Dixon, we got incoming," she nodded towards the van eating up the road leading to the walled-in town. "I didn't think Abe's team was due back for another couple days."
"Open th' gate, Hector!" he called down to the young Latino on the street. He set himself on the ladder and made Marty squeeze in front of him. All he needed was for her to fall and break something with as off-balance as she'd been lately. He refused to believe he had some gentlemanly manners tucked away inside him.
The van jerked as Tara threw the gear shift into park and hopped out, running around to the back to open the doors. Rosita sat next to a pale, curly haired lad who was taking in everything with wide wary eyes, while Tyreese jumped down to lift an injured woman into his arms to carry her to the clinic.
Marty reached out to rest her hand on the boy's shoulder, urging him out of the van. "It's a'right, sugar. No one's goin' t' harm y' here," she said gently.
Merle wasn't in the mood for small talk. There was a story there, and he was determined to uncover it. "Rosie, take 'im t' th' clinic an' have Linda look 'im over."
Rosita sneered up at him, seconds away from throttling him. "Told you not to call me that, Dixon!"
"Whatever!"
"Hey, what's the holdup?" Shumpert called out, the van blocking the gate.
Abraham nodded to Tara, sending her off to move it further down the street to be unloaded of the supplies they'd scavenged on the run.
Merle waved them through before turning back to the ginger. "Report!" he snapped.
Abraham swiped a hand over his face and smirked at his commander. "You ain't gonna like it."
"Yeah, when do I ever with th' shit storm o' complications around this place?"
"Griffin's dead. Cleared out and overrun."
Merle paled, his jaw clenching. "M' fam'ly?"
"Gone, looks like they high-tailed it out of there before it got bad. Found the samurai and the kid holed up in the house the group had been staying in. She'd gotten hurt, fell out a second story window in town while trying to get away from some biters. Leg got cut up bad, but the kid was taking care of her best he could."
"Fuck!" he cursed, rubbing anxiously at the panic building within his chest. "Where th' hell is m' brother?!"
Abraham pulled a drawing from the messenger bag at his side. "I dunno. We did find some pretty vague drawings on the wall and his initials. Tara copied it so she could show you when we got back. Mean anything to you, Dixon?"
Merle stared down at the drawing, and felt as if he'd been throat-punched. Four circles, the one farthest to the right bearing an 'x'. He knew if he laid it over the map Marty had given Daryl, it would show him exactly where his family was … the prison. And Shumpert's team was heading straight for them.
A/n: Another chapter for your reading pleasure? lol. My darling beta reader, Geektaire, requested smut. She wasn't expecting the evil cliffie from last chapter, the awkwardness of the cockblocking tub, or the dream which led to angsty smut. Hey, I aim to please. I really hope y'all enjoyed it. PLEASE let me know what you thought.