Whew, been workin' hard painting all those fences, washing windows, working the firework stand, cleaning the bank at night, etc. Haven't had time for writing between all that and trying to read A Storm of Swords so I can give it back to it's owner who also wants to read it. But I felt inspired today so here's the next chapter!
Also, decided to go with a recurve bow instead of a crossbow in favor of price and simplicity, so I ordered my brand new PSE recurve and it should be here within a week :D SO EXCITED!
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The sound an arrow makes when it hits the target seemed like the sweetest sound to Carol's ears at that moment. It was her first successful shot of the morning and she smiled at the quivering arrow sticking in the haybale target across the ten yard distance. It wasn't a bullseye, but it had at least hit the target this time!
Lowering the bow, she turned and looked at Daryl with a huge smile on her face.
"I hit it!" she squealed, "Look, Daryl, I hit that walker!"
If she was looking for praise she knew immediately from the look on his face that she wasn't getting any. He was standing with his arms crossed in front of him, feet spread apart as he leaned slightly back, glaring at the target.
"And if that really was a walker all you woulda jus' done it pegged it in the shoulder," he muttered darkly, "Take another shot."
Disappointed, Carol picked another arrow up from the groud next to her and took aim. This arrow missed the haybale completely and stuck in the board behind it. Carol's shoulder slumped in disappointment and she sighed.
"This is impossible," she said sadly, letting the bow hang limply at her side.
She heard his footsteps approaching and she looked up to find him holding out his hand. She almost placed her won hand in it until she realized he wanted the bow. She handed it to him and he pushed her aside lightly and leaned over to pick up and arrow. She watched as he spread and planted his feet firmly, raised the bow, pulled back the string and released in barely a second's time. Carol looked in disbelief at the aroow that was now sticking in the middle of the top of the haybale.
"Wow..."she whispered in disbelief.
"It takes practice, Carol," Daryl said simply, "You don't normally hit bullseyes the first three times ya shoot. Plus, you have to have the right stance, grip and all that."
"I thought I did," Carol whined.
Daryl gave her a look that clearly said "don't even start that".
"Just watch," he said, pulling the string back and raising the bow into position, "Take a real good look at how I'm holding it."
And take a real good look was just what Carol did. She went right up to him and studied every little detail about him. She admired the way the muscles in his arms flexed as he held the string back firm and steady, the way his cobalt blue eyes stayed trained with deadly purpose on the target, the way his left hand comfortably gripped the leather just beneath the invisble arrow, the way his shoulders were straight and strong, the way his legs remained motionless and sturdy beneath him...he looked like a filthy rendition of a Roman statue of an archer she had once seen at a museum in college.
He released the tension of the string slowly so as not to dry fire and handed the bow back to her.
"Show me."
So Carol kept the picture of him in her mind and tried to make her body copy exactly how he had done it. But Daryl shook his head and stepped up to her, placing his left hand on top of hers and positioning himself right up behind her, his chest pressed firmly into her shoulders and his right hand pushed at her right leg. She moved it according to where his hand was telling it to go and then he pushed gently at her elbow, lowering it slightly. But Carol's breath really caught in her throat when he pressed a hand just above her breasts and pushed her back into him.
"Stand straight," was all he said and then he backed off, leaving Carol feeling very odd and very disappointed. Odd, because the stance felt so much different than how she had stood before. Disappointed, because her body was so quickly deprived of his.
She lowered the bow and he handed her an arrow.
"Try it with those things in mind," he stated. "Legs further apart. Elbow straight. Chest up."
So Carol tried. And she succeeded. The arrow made a thwump sound as it embedded in the very center of the haybale.
Carol lowered the bow and glanced at Daryl. The corner of his lips twitched up into a crooked smile and he nodded his approval. Carol felt her heart skip a beat.
"That's what I'm talkin' about," he said, sounding genuinely proud, "You'll be givin' me competition in the hunting racket next thing we know."
Carol highly doubted that, but it was a nice thing for him to say anyway.
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But Carol didn't get a chance to practice the next day because all Hell broke loose on the farm. Of course they all knew about the barn being full of walkers and they all knew that the notion of it had freaked Shane the hell out, but no one had a clue this was coming.
It all started with an argument between Shane and Rick as usual and it escalated all day until Shane finally snapped. Carol watched in fear as he started handing out guns to everyone around him and yelled about protecting their own. Then when he had seen the figures down by the barn, leading the walkers on dog catcher's leashes he had gone absolutely insane. Carol stood back and watched in silent horror as Shane ripped the chain and lock off the barn doors.
The rest was a blur of groans, growls and gunshots. When it was over, the ground was littered with dead walkers and a heavy, HEAVY silence hung over the entire farm.
When the smoke settled and the weapons were lowered, the sound of Beth's sobbing shattered the silence and Carol felt like she was going to throw up as she looked around at the carnage. Herschel hadn't moved an inch from where he had fallen to his knees and Maggie had wrapped her arms around him from behind as she cried. Turning, she saw that Lori was holding firmly onto Carl, pulling him close in a protective way even though she was visibly trembling herself. Seeing them made Carol spin around looking for Sophia until she spotted her walking towards the barn from the direction of the RV.
Carol uprooted herself from the spot where she stood and ran to her daughter, shielding her eyes and turning her around.
"Please, Sophia, don't look," she muttered.
"What happened?" Sophia's voice was hushed and afraid, "There were so many gunshots!"
"It's ok, we're safe," Carol assured her, "We're safe."
And it was true. They were safe. Carol wasn't the biggest fan of Shane Walsh, but she was secretly thankful for what he had just done. She hadn't heard Rick's side of the story but she couldn't see how storing up walkers in a rickity old barn would ever be a good plan and when she saw him leading that geek on the leash she had lost a little faith in him. Shane had done the right thing, but he had done it in a very bad way and she knew there would be no peace between the two alpha males for quite some time...but at least they were safe.
She expalined to Sophia what had just happened and hated the look in her daughter's eyes as she took all the information in with quiet acceptance. When did her daughter stop being afraid? When had she grown up so fast?
"I think Shane did the right thing," Sophia said quietly when the tale was through. "He was protecting us."
Carol just looked at her for a moment before she could find her voice.
"Yes, honey, he was...but it's no easy task to take a life."
"No one took any lives to day, mom," Sophia's blue eyes were emotionless as she said it, "Those things...need to be put down."
Sophia stood up from where she had sat on the seat across the RV's small table and headed for the door. It swung open before she touched the handle and she shrunk back as Daryl stepped in, his gaze was cold as he looked at her without any interest at all. He nodded his head toward the open door, a motion for her to leave. Sophia did just that, edging around him as far as the small space allowed. Daryl closed the door and occupied the spot the girl had left behind.
"You mad?" he asked simply, propping the shotgun he had used on the walkers against the wall.
"No, why would I be mad?" Carol was surprised at his assumption.
"Shane...well, that was kinda an asshole move he just made," Daryl looked out the window at the group slowly making their way back to camp. "Lori and Rick are pissed at him. So's Glenn. Herschel...well, we'll be lucky if he lets us stay after all that mess."
Carol sighed heavily.
"I think he did what needed to be done," Carol admitted, "But it wasn't handled well."
"Yeah..." Daryl stood back up, picking up the shotgun as he made his way toward the door, "Just wanted to know where you stand on the whole thing. How'd your daughter take it?"
Carol remembered the dull look in Sophia's eyes and she sighed sadly.
"She's...becoming more like this world everyday," she replied slowly, "I never thought my little girl would have to see so much death and horror in her life...I'm afraid it's making her cold and bitter."
Daryl nodded with understanding but if he had anything to say it was cut off by Dale storming into the RV.
"Who does he think he is?" he was grumbling angrily but he stopped short when he saw Daryl and just glared at him. Carol knew that look, it was accusation. You did nothing to stop him his eyes seemed to scream. Daryl just moved to let the old man pass and then, with a nod to Carol, stepped out of the RV and headed in the direction of the barn to help clean up the mess.
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"I need to get away."
Daryl looked up from where he was crouched, sticking the tent peg into the dry ground. Carol stood over him, her longbow in hand. He couldn't help but smile a little as he looked back down at the rope he was tying to the peg.
"You never were one for confrontation," he mused.
"That's a big word for a Dixon," Carol said dryly. Daryl scrunched his eyebrows together and looked back up at her in confusion. Damn, woman, I'm not the enemy here.
As soon as it registered what she had said, Carol's eyes widened and she looked horrified.
"Oh, Daryl, I'm sorry!" she squeaked, her hand covering her mouth as if she couldn't believe she had let the words slip out. Daryl stood up and moved to the next corner of the tent and drove the peg into the dirt with enough force to get it half way in despite the hardness of the ground. He started pounding it with the hammer he had brought, but he remained silent.
Carol slumped her shoulders in defeat and backed up slightly, setting her bow and the arrows on the ground. Next thing Daryl knew she had knelt next to him and her hand rested gently on his shoulder.
"That was...terrible of me," she said, her voice sounded tired and worn. "I'm just...tired. Tired of all the constant bickering and all the gossip back at camp. You know I don't think you're less than any of us."
Daryl exhaled through his nose with a huff and secured the last knot on the last peg and stood, cracking his back as he went.
"It hard enough to forget who I am without your remarks," he said darkly, his hand ran through his hair like he always did when he was nervous, worried, annoyed, etc. "Now, what the hell did you want?"
Carol picked up her bow again and handed him his crossbow. He took it from her and cocked his eyebrow, waiting for her to say something.
"I...I need some stress relief," she said quietly, and Daryl noticed her eyes were looking anywhere but at him when she said it. "If you're not too busy, that is."
Glancing around, he figured his new campsite away from the group was pretty much settled so he nodded. Shouldering his crossbow, he started walking towards the edge of the woods where they had set up their haybale targets and Carol fell into step behind him.
Neither of them said a word as they walked, the breeze was blowing gently through the tall grass of the overgrowing hay field and Daryl just let him mind relax as he closed his eyes and let it wash over him. It was the first cool day in a long time, now all they needed was some rain to make it complete.
When they reached the targets, Carol wasted no time in getting started. He could see the pent up anger inside her as she pulled back the string with a vengence and the satisfied gleam in her eye when the arrow stuck deep in the bale. He found himself thinking back to the day he had handed her the pickaxe to put in her husband's head...that was the same look she had back then.
"You know something, Daryl?" she said then, derailing his train of thought.
"I know some things, yeah," he replied with heavy sarcasm as he handed her another arrow. "But not a lot, according to most people."
Carol cast a glance over her shoulder that held no amusement, but a little regret. Then she focused on the target once more.
"I'm tired." Carol's words were accented by the thump of her arrow when it hit the bale.
Daryl waitied patiently for her to continue as he handed her the next arrow, he gazed steadily at the back of her head when she turned back to shoot again.
"I'm tired of running," Carol's voice quivered slightly, or was he mistaken? "I'm tired of worrying. I'm tired of wondering where my next meal is coming from. I'm tired of thinking about the future. I'm tired of trying to please everyone. I'm tired of being the victim."
Daryl lowered his head slightly and looked up at her from under his eyelashes, taking in what she was saying. He silently handed the arrow up and she didn't even turn around this time as she took it. The silence fell around them and the croak of a tree frog next to him sounded like a cannonblast in comparison, but he simply waited, knowing that she needed to say what was on her mind.
"My daughter is following in my footsteps," Carol's next words were hardly more than a whisper, "She's withdrawing her emotions, trying to keep out of the confrontations. Trying to hide behind that...that wall of silence."
Daryl knew exactly what she was talking about. That wall was in his own life as well, built to keep the beatings at bay as a child, keeping Merle out of jail in his youth, keeping his head off the metaphorical chopping block now that he was in this group fighting for their lives. He had never been one to get in the middle of things and the silence had kept him safe and made him strong...but it was a lonely place behind that wall, lonely and it left no chance for change.
"I've been quiet all my life," Carol was saying now as he popped back into reality. "I was quiet when I walked down the aisle even when I knew I was making a mistake. I was quiet everytime Ed raised his hands to me or forced himself on me. I was quiet when I knew he was starting to eye my little girl. I was quiet today when Shane broke open that barn...I've never stood up for anything."
Daryl nodded, but she still hadn't looked at him since she started her rant so there wasn't much point in the movement.
"And now...Sophia's got that same look in her eyes that I've had ever since I put on that wedding dress. She's losing the will to fight."
The last arrow hit the bale with less force than the others and Daryl noticed that Carol's shoulders were slumped and the bow now hung limply at her side. But he waited none the less, knowing how difficult it is to get all those things you want to say out. He wasn't going to push her.
Then she spun around and his whole body jerked in surprise and he lost his balance of the on-his-toes squat he had been in and he let out a grunt as his tailbone connected with the ground. Carol just stood there, her left fist clenched tightly around the bow's grip and he saw that there were tears glistening in her eyes, but there was no sadness there...only fierce determination.
"I'm done," she snapped, she dropped the bow and took a step forward. Daryl didn't know why, but he scrambled back a few inches on the ground and she smiled slightly down at him. "I'm done holding back. I'm not just going to survive anymore, I'm gonna start living!"
And then she dropped to her knees between his legs and her hands gripped the front of his shirt firmly and Daryl felt her deceptively small arms pull him strongly forward from where he was leaning on his elbows. Her lips clashed into his and his eyes widened in utter shock as he felt her tongue flick out without hesitation or any hint of the shyness her kisses usually held. He gladly granted her access and joined his own tongue to the fray as he moved slightly to adjust how he was sitting so he could support his own weight instead of Carol holding his torso up. He snaked his right hand around behind her neck and his left grasped her wrist, his thumb making tiny circles on the soft skin over the veins just below her palm.
A few moments later, Carol pulled away from the kiss and she leaned back, locking her gaze with his as she panted slightly. She had lost the furious look she had come into this position with, and Daryl noticed it was replaced with a look he had seen once in the eyes of a stripper Merle had hired for his eighteenth birthday...
"I'm also tired of pretending," she whispered softly, "I've been trying to work up the courage to do this for a long...long...long time."
Daryl opened his mouth to reply with some sort of sarcasm, but his words caught in his throat as she yanked her wrist away from him and purposely slid it down his chest and stomach until she had him firmly grasped in her hand. He inhaled sharply and looked at her in blissful disbelief as she squeezed gently, but firmly. The gravelly moan that came rumbling up from his chest was silenced by her mouth on his and his eyes rolled back as she repositioned herself, causing her hand to press even closer than he thought possible.
Taking a slight liberty, he placed his hands on her hips and began a slow, deliberate upward stroke, taking the hem of her shirt his them. The heat of her skin met his palms as they slid under the flimsy material that was well worn from the months of hard living. The skin beneath was soft and warm, but the muscles were solid from the hard work she had taken up since Hell broke loose and he found that sexy beyond belief. He wondered why he never noticed how strong she was until now?
Encouraged by the fact that she had definitely not pulled away from him for that move, he moved his hands further up and felt Carol's slight sigh as he cupped her small breasts and moved his lips from her mouth to trail down her jaw until he reach the tender spot behind her ear. His hand worked gently, but his assault on her neck was just the opposite. He could feel the heat rising from between his legs where her hand was continuing it's firm strokes to move through every inch of the rest of him, he felt his heart pounding almost like the way it did when he spotted a good sized deer on a hunt! He nipped at her skin and ran his tongue over the spot almost like an apology and he loved the little gasps and the tiny squeals he was causing to come from her so he continued the onslaught on the other side.
But just as he was going to move his mouth back to claim her lips, she released the hold she had on his through his pants and he pulled back to look at her questioningly.
"What?" he asked huskily, annoyed at the sudden lack of contact. "What did I do wrong?"
Carol just looked back at him in confusion.
"You didn't..." she said hesitantly, "Look."
He twisted around, his eyes closed for a second because that movement made Carol's hips press into his and his vision was disrupted for a second. But then he realized what she was talking about.
"Ah, shit..."
There it was. That rain he had been thinking would be so wonderful not too long ago. It was falling heavily just across the field and he saw from the way the long grass was laying down that it was heading right for them. Stupid freak rainstorms...
He bucked his hips sharply in a motion for her to get off of him and they both stood up quickly. Carol grabbed her bow and ran to the target to retrieve her arrows and Daryl snatched up his crossbow but just as Carol ran back to him the torrent washed over them. Daryl groaned in annoyance, grabbed Carol's hand and took off running towards the farm.
He hated the feeling of the rain hitting him in the face, it was cold and miserable feeling. But when he glanced at Carol he saw that she was smiling despite her stumbling run and the drops smacking into her face. She giggled loudly and then broke into laughter as they slowed their pace and Daryl unzipped his tent. She stood there in the rain until he yanked her arm and pulled her inside.
"You're crazy, woman," he muttered as he zipped the opening closed. He lifted the glass from the lantern hanging from the top of the tent and searched around for the matches. Carol found them and handed them to him, that rain-induced grin still plastered on her face and he lit the lantern. A crash of thunder made them both jump and Carol started laughing again. Daryl watched her in silence as she held her stomach and doubled over and he found himself smiling in spite of the sudden interruption the rain had caused.
"Woman," he said quietly when she had finally stopped laughing, "Anyone ever tell you...you look pretty damn beautiful when you laugh?"
Carol's giggles finally ceased and she stared at him for a moment before smiling softly.
"Daryl Dixon," she replied quietly, "Anyone ever tell you you're the man of their dreams?"
Daryl gulped as Carol started to move toward him again, her eyes were soft and steady. "Nope. Never heard that one before," he said quietly.
"Well, that's because you're MY dream. Mine." Carol whispered, her breath and lips brushing his ear, the tingle ran down his spine and ended up cuasing that familiar twitch in his pants which he was sure Carol felt because her thigh was right there, he looked at her as she pulled back. Yep, she'd noticed.
"Um...I..." Oh my god.
Stop freaking out!
I have no idea what I'm doing...I've never done this before!
Stick with me this time and I'll show exactly what to do.
And so, he finally stopped thinking and let instinct win the argument.
TBC! Mwahahaha! More reviews = more details! ;)
Evil of me? Maybe, but I have to stop writing now anyway because it's time for supper! So, if you want more and better I better get some good feedback!
Thanks for your continued support of this story, everyone!