Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead.
a/n: I'd just like to thank everyone for the reviews/follows and favorites, as always they mean a great deal.
...
Early morning brought thin rays of pale sunlight and a discernible chill, and as Carol stepped out into the courtyard, she cradled the cup of steaming coffee tightly to herself. Daryl was taking his shift in the tower, and she knew that he would welcome the hot drink. Coffee was a scarce commodity, and she silently thanked Rick and Michonne for finding the precious little amount that they'd found on their run.
She hadn't slept well, the thought of Michonne playing largely in her mind after what Daryl had said the night before. And even though the dark skinned woman hadn't spoken much to anyone-she knew what Rick had proposed was just so very wrong.
Pursing her lips tightly at the thought, she climbed the steps to the watch tower, a little smile playing about her lips as she saw Daryl stood leaning against the railings. He turned to her, giving her a small smile.
"What ya got there?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow at her.
Carol smiled at him, "Coffee. I thought you could do with it after your long shift."
Daryl stepped over to her, and she passed the cup over to him, watching as he gripped it with both hands, lifting it to his nose and inhaling the bitter aroma through a small puff of steam. "Sorry," she apologized, "It's black, no sugar."
"Is fine," he took a tentative sip from the cup.
"Thought you'd like it black and strong," she said, leaning against the railing next to him.
Daryl coughed suddenly, pulling the cup from his mouth. He turned his head slightly to face her, "Stop."
Carol smirked back at him, then glanced across the courtyard, her eyebrows raising as she saw Rick walking along the fence line. "How long has he been out here?"
"Dunno," Daryl said softly, "A while, I guess." He shook his head, then spoke so quietly that Carol had to prick her ears to catch his words. "That Governor's got him rattled, but he wont admit it. He keeps checkin' them damn fences. I doubt anything gonna get past, but he keeps on checkin'."
"Is he still...going to hand Michonne over?"
She saw the dark look chase across his eyes, saw the reluctance hidden there. "I guess," he said tightly. "He's got a plan, but I dunno if he gonna go through with it. Can never tell with him."
Carol sighed, "Hmm."
"Deadlines noon tomorrow. Summat's gotta go down, but shit if I know," Daryl took a long swig of his drink, "Coffee's good, thanks."
She smiled back at him, "You're welcome."
"Ya know, Rick had that rationed," Daryl said before draining the drink, and placing the empty cup on the floor behind him, swatting one hand over his mouth. "I dunno how you smuggled that past him."
"Call it...feminine wiles," she grinned suddenly. "Besides, what Rick doesn't know, doesn't hurt him, and you are far more deserving of a cup-it's chilly out here."
Daryl snorted softly, "Feminine wiles. Didn't see ya go take him a hot cup of java."
She smiled at him brightly, "Maybe he isn't one of my favorites," she shrugged mildly, seeing the slight blush tint his cheeks, "Oh I know, stop," she chided.
"Quiet, woman," he smirked, standing close to her and nudging her arm with his elbow.
Carol leaned over the railing, watching Rick as he paced relentlessly. "It's wrong Daryl," she said sadly, "This...it's all wrong."
"I know," he murmured, "What else can we do?"
She thought about it reluctantly, "We could go, leave the prison. I don't think all of this is worth it." She turned to him unhappily, "It's not worth one more single life. We've lost so much getting here Daryl. I don't want anyone else to...die...for this," she gestured at the prison grounds with one hand, "It just isn't worth it."
"It's home," Daryl rasped.
She bit back a sad laugh, "It wasn't so long ago that you called this place our tombs."
"Things change," he said leaning at the railings next to her. He turned his head slowly towards her, his eyes fixing firmly on hers. He bit at his lip hesitantly, "We're about out of options, and the group...I know man," he sighed slowly, "The group needs a fixed place to call 'home'. Lil ass-kicker needs ta grow a lil...can't risk her, no way," he murmured, dragging his eyes from hers to stare fixedly at the fence line. "What chance she gonna have out there, right now? What chance Hershel got-with just one damned leg? Is too much to risk on the road, out there in the open."
Carol leaned on the railings, feeling the cool chill of the metal seep into her skin. She glanced down at the yard, her breath catching as she saw Merle push the outer door open and step out into the courtyard. He headed straight for the gate, and she watched as he paused there, saw him glancing at the walkers straggling at the fences.
"Merle," Daryl grunted next to her.
She watched as Rick completed his lap of the fence line, saw him stop and stare rigidly at Merle, before moving hurriedly closer, his one hand hovering above the holster at his waist. She shook her head, unaware that Daryl was watching her. Her eyes narrowed as she watched Rick step closer to Merle, and she struggled to hear what he said, only catching the words, 'need to talk to you'...and 'we need your help'. To her alarm, she watched as Merle followed Rick back into the prison.
She turned to Daryl in confusion, "What does Rick want?" He was watching them below intently, and she felt a sudden despair seep chillingly through her. "Daryl?"
He turned his head towards hers, his eyes hooded, not meeting the intense gaze she shot at him, "Is nothin'. I'm tellin' ya, it's nothin'. Shit Carol, Rick's got this sorted, he knows what he's doing-he always does."
"What about Merle, what's he got to do with anything?"
Daryl shrugged, "He was the inside man, Rick just wants his advice is all, I reckon." He turned away from her quickly, but not before she glimpsed the unhappiness etched hard on his face.
"Maybe," she agreed reluctantly.
Daryl leaned further on the railings, his hands fidgeting across the metal, his grip suddenly firm. He paused a while, before staring at her crookedly, his eyes peeking at her from beneath his fringe. "Is... there somethin' going on with ya? I mean, you and my brother?"
She felt the breath choke up inside herself, and for a while she couldn't answer him. The thought terrified her. As she glanced at him, she read the earnest question in his eyes, and she knew that he deserved an honest answer, but the best that she could give him was, "I don't know. Honestly Daryl, I don't know."
He huffed a little, then let a long sigh escape him. "I know. I think I've known for a while, I've seen ya lookin' at him. I've seen him lookin' at ya too. The fuckin' charismatic asshole." Daryl turned abruptly, his hand sneaking out suddenly and grasping her about the wrist, gently pulling her so that she faced him."Told ya before...he ain't never got no respect for any woman, never wanted anythin' more from 'em than just ta fuck 'em." His eyes met hers, and he relented a little, begrudgingly. "But I seen the way he is with ya, and I ain't never seen that before, not with him, not with no woman."
"There's nothing going on Daryl," she replied firmly. "Nothing's happened."
He shifted restlessly on his feet, glancing at her, then looking away. "Do ya care for him?" he asked suddenly.
"I care for all of you," she said unhappily. "I always have done."
"That ain't what I was asking."
"He's your brother, he's part of this group now too." She raised her hand and smoothed at her hair, feeling an awkwardness that she had never really felt before with him.
Daryl stood back from her, but his hand still held her wrist firmly. His gaze was fixed on the ground between them. "I trust ya more than I ever trusted anyone before Carol. And I'm asking if ya care, 'cause I reckon Merle is 'bout gonna go do summat fuckin' stupid, and-" his voice broke a little and was suddenly harsh, and she swore she felt her heart break at the sound. "I know I ain't never asked for help with him before, and I know I ain't never gonna ask again. But, if ya think anythin' 'bout him, stop him."
"I don't know what is going on Daryl. I don't know what is happening with Rick and Merle, and even if I did, I'm not so sure I could help you." She knew that helping Daryl would just be admitting to something that she wasn't sure she could admit to herself. "Why do you even think he would listen to me?" she grimaced at the pleading she thought she could hear in her voice.
Daryl looked at her, his eyes boring into hers heatedly. "I can't lose him Carol, ya have ta understand. I can't. I ain't gonna lose my brother all over again."
"Is there something I don't know about?" she asked fearfully, her breath catching and twisting in her throat.
Daryl shook his head, almost regretfully, and he edged carefully away from her, stooping down to pick the cup of the floor. He shoved it at her, blinking rapidly through his heavy fringe of hair, "Thanks for the coffee."
Carol pursed her lips and stared back at him, but as she looked into his eyes, she could see the guarded edge there, and she knew that he had effectively shut himself off from her, and no amount of prying would push him to tell her anything, in fact the opposite. He would just retreat back into himself. She sighed and took the cup from him, reaching out and catching his arm in her hand. She gave him a little squeeze, and was rewarded with a minute upturn of his lips.
She let his arm go, and reluctantly moved away from him, one hand gripping the railings that lined the stairs. She stopped momentarily, glancing over her shoulder to look at him again, seeing that he had turned his back to her, then she paced restlessly back across the courtyard and back into the prison.
She was thankful for the coolness of the interior and more than thankful that nobody was there as she sat wearily at one of the tables, leaning her elbows on the hard table top. Stifling back hot tears, she bowed her head into her hands and closed her eyes to the heaviness in her heart.
...
The sun was higher in the sky, and the chill of the morning was nothing more than a distant faded memory. The prison had woken up a few hours previously, and was now an industrious hive of activity.
Daryl and Glenn, with Michonne's help had added a few extra defensive barriers to the fences, and had constructed planks of wood with barbed wire coiled thickly around, sharp and lethal enough to puncture any tires should the Governor again try that tactic of driving another vehicle at them through the gates, another van full of walkers. Carol mused that from what she had heard of him, he would be fairly stupid to attempt that again-as Merle had said before, that trick had just been the Governor ringing the damned doorbell. He would attempt something different, but Carol thought that it didn't pay to be unprepared. If anything, it could be enough to buy them a little time, even though she wondered fearfully, time for what exactly? They were outnumbered and outgunned, Woodbury was well equipped with a lot more able bodies and firepower than what they had.
The baby grumbled in her arms, and she looked down at her, smiling softly. She couldn't help but smile at the baby, Judith was a constant little miracle, and she knew that they were all thankful for her and for what she represented to the group as a whole.
She shifted the baby on to her hip, and raised her hand momentarily to shield her eyes from the sun, squinting across to the outer field-the field that had once been theirs, but was now a no man's land of torn fences and walkers. The truck was out there; she could see Beth sat at the wheel waiting, Michonne striding determinedly, her katana arcing now and again, felling walkers with one bloodied sweep, little glints of light flashing off her bright blade, Daryl and Glenn dragging the defenses and laying them on the ground. She dragged her gaze from the field to the fences; Maggie and Carl were bashing pots and pans from the kitchen, the sound attracting and luring the walkers from the others in the field.
The baby wriggled against her, and she cooed quietly to the baby, shifting her more firmly to herself, cradling her against her chest. She lowered her head and softly kissed her head, the baby's fine hair tickling at her nose with its own exquisite unique scent.
"I swear she is growing every single day."
Carol glanced to her side and smiled as Hershel hobbled near to her. He adjusted his crutches, taking the weight on one, and he reached his hand across and smoothed at Judith's soft hair with his fingertips.
"She's been a blessing to us all," he said smiling.
"She is," she agreed. "How are Maggie and Glenn?" She felt a reluctance in asking, but she wanted to know, she hated seeing the distance they had put between themselves since Woodbury.
He pursed his lips tightly, glancing across at his oldest daughter as she called out loudly to the walkers at the fence line. "They are getting there," he sighed quietly. "They've been through a lot, they need time to adjust, to consider. Glenn can be a little impulsive where Maggie is concerned, but I am under no illusion that he has her best interests at heart, and I can't ask for more than that. He cares for her, he wants to protect her, but he can be hot-headed. Just like Merle," Hershel turned his head, his eyes holding hers.
Carol met his gaze and nodded, resting her chin lightly on the top of the baby's head.
"I've seen what you are doing with him. The others are not so generous in their thinking, and I have to be honest, for a while I wasn't either. But he seems to be making an effort with us, with the group as a whole."
"It hasn't been easy for him," she sighed. "I won't excuse what he has done. I know all to well."
Hershel shook his head mildly, "No. I don't doubt that it hasn't been easy for him. His actions have caused a lot of hostility. He has to earn his place here, and I fear the others will withhold their judgment on him until he does. He is Daryl's blood, and his loyalty to his brother is without question, but it has to be more than that, and I know you see this."
Carol clutched the baby tighter to her. Hershel was right of course, she knew, she could see what he was saying. Her heart twisted a little. She wanted him so badly to make things work, as much for Daryl as for herself. She felt her cheeks flame a little at the thought, and wondered if she seemed foolhardy and presumptuous. But as much as she tried to stave of the feeling-it was there, and she couldn't hide from it.
"Merle could be an asset to the group. He has military expertise, he is strong, wilful, formidable, and I have no doubt that given the right nurturing, he could grow to be invaluable member of the group, just like his brother. Don't give up on him Carol." Hershel held her gaze for a moment, then he looked away as Maggie caught his eye. She lifted one hand and waved at him. He shifted his crutches more firmly under his arms. "Daughters. No matter how old they are, it is always good to know that they still need their father," He smiled distantly at her, then hobbled his way slowly over to where Maggie was stood waiting for him.
...
The large barn door gaped open like a hungry blackened mouth, and she watched in rapt fear as a small grubby figure shuffled slowly into the light on stumbling twisting feet. Filthy hair whipped about as the head twisted towards her, yellowed unblinking unseeing eyes settling on her, marking her as the small girl shambled nearer. The scent was caught, nostrils flaring with hunger, and the loose- limbed gait shuffled ever quicker, the soft thump of sneakered feet whispering eagerly in the gritty earth. Arms raised as if wanting to embrace her, to hug and comfort her, and this time she welcomed them, welcomed those arms as they gripped hers, welcomed the ragged nails as they tore at the soft flesh of her arms. Sophia raised her head, flashing mud grimed broken teeth, and she pulled her little girl tightly into her embrace, she felt the dank fetid cold breath on her neck, heard those terrible teeth snapping closer and closer...
Carol sat up suddenly, unaware of her surroundings as the remnants of her dream slipped away. Tears formed thickly in her eyes, and she tried to choke back the racking sobs that threatened to escape her. Her eyes darted unseeingly around the small room, her one hand grasping tightly at the edge of the metal that was her cot. Everything else paled away, and she could only focus on her daughter's words, words that she dreamed almost every single time she closed her eyes. 'Why did you leave me to die Mommy?' It was all too unreal, and she closed her eyes to the sound of her own harsh ragged breathing, wishing for eternity that things could have been so very different.
Slowly she willed her eyes to open, letting her gaze steady and focus on the dull gray concrete that was her room. The small light from the moon partially lit her cell, although it could do nothing to penetrate the darkness in her heart. She sat up, one hand wiping at her eyes, collecting the tears and smothering them to her chest, an act of penance she did almost every time on awakening. Her heart ached bitterly for her loss, and as she always did, she allowed herself this small time to grieve, thankful for the solitude. She wouldn't show her tears any more to the others, she couldn't allow that hurt and loss to fill Daryl's eyes. He had done everything and beyond that he could have at the time-she couldn't have asked more of him, but the loss every time was as acute now as it had been at the Greene farmstead.
Dimly, she become aware that there was a presence at the foot of her cell, a dark shadow looming in the doorway, and she clutched her arms about herself, reigning back the shudder and yelp of surprise that she wasn't alone, that she hadn't even heard anyone approach her cell.
"You okay?" Merle rasped.
"Merle, you startled me, I didn't hear anyone coming. I thought everyone was asleep."
"Huh. Was goin' on watch," his boots scuffed softly against the floor. "Heard ya cryin'."
"It's nothing, I'm fine," she said shaking her head. She fervently hoped that nobody else was awake and had heard her crying, it was bad enough that he had.
"Ain't lookin' that way to me."
She raised her eyes and looked across at him. He was poised hesitantly in the doorway, his hand curled around the bars of her cell. He was cast thickly in shadows, but she could see the burning hue of his eyes glinting back at her in the moonlight. He had never visited her at her cell before, nobody ever did really since Lori. "Why are you here, Merle?" she asked, slipping her legs over the side of her bed.
He looked at her and huffed, "Can't I show any fuckin' concern?"
Her feet were cold on the floor, so she reached over and tugged her boots on. "I don't ask you to-"
"No, you wouldn't, would ya," he snapped back.
She glanced up at him sharply, "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It don't mean nothin'," he said, and Carol narrowed her eyes at him. "Merle? What's happened?"
"Ain't nothin' happened," he sighed irritably. "Jus' heard ya cryin', wondered what the fuck was wrong. Figured it was was nothin' more than hormones. You bitches are always complain' 'bout that." He shrugged, loosening his hand from the cell bars and stepping away.
Carol frowned at him. His tone and words smarted at her, but she wasn't going to let him know that. The ache for her daughter still hurt, and she grimaced- she was in no mood for this. She pushed herself off the bed and stepped across the cell towards the door. She stood a hands breath away from him, and she wondered why he stood so stiffly, like he was poised to bolt from her.
"Merle?" she questioned, watching as his eyes dragged across hers before falling to the space between them.
He backed away from her another step, and she thought she glimpsed turmoil looming in his eyes. "Forget it," he said quickly, turning from her.
She watched as he angrily moved away from her, the way he seemed to want to put distance rapidly between them, and for some reason, it smarted at her. His boots thumped softly down the metal gangplank, and she felt a sudden rising annoyance that he would just walk away like that. Why had he even come to her? She bit down the thought, and stood there watching him, feeling the tug of emotions piquing at her. After a moment's hesitancy, she chased after him, watching as he pulled the outer door open. He still refused to look at her, and she followed after him as he stepped outside into the darkness.
The chill of the night hit her and she shivered in her thin shirt, wrapping her arms tightly about herself. "It was just a dream. A bad dream. I dreamt about Sophia," she said quickly. "It's always Sophia." She was aware of the pain coloring her voice and she couldn't hide it from him.
He stood stock still and as he peered intently at her, she saw a raw look flash across his face and she almost regretted her words. His eyes raked across hers, and her heart ached at the sudden softness that sprang to his eyes. "I know I ain't never said a damn thing to ya before," he murmured stepping close, his hand reaching out and catching at her arm, pulling her to him. "An' yeah I know, I'm a heartless bastard, but I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what ya went through."
She felt the tears misting heavily in her eyes again, and she bitterly thought that she didn't want him to see her like this-weak. "It wasn't your fault," she choked back another sob, and his arm tightened awkwardly around her, his prosthesis pressing rigidly across her back. Warily, she pressed her forehead to his chest.
"Wouldn't have happened if I'd been there," he rasped softly.
"You can't know that. You wasn't there," she said quickly, and then she was all to aware of why exactly he hadn't been there. She looked up at him, "I...I didn't mean to be so insensitive. I'm sorry Merle."
"Yer tellin' me your sorry? What the fuck you apologizin' for?" Indignation flooded his voice. "Ain't none of this been yer damned fault." Merle shook his head angrily, "How the fuck can ya even compare what happened? I lost my hand, you lost your-"
"I know what I lost, and I have to live with that every single day." She felt his chin rest on the top of her head and she closed her eyes to the inner turmoil running through her.
They stood a while in silence and she stiffened slightly against him when his fingers touched at her hair. Her voice sounded small as she said, "I spoke to Daryl this morning."
The breath hissed in his chest and as his hand fell away from her hair, he let go of her roughly and stepped back a pace. He looked undecided, his feet scuffing on the hard ground, and she mentally berated herself as she felt an ache at the sudden loss of his touch. "Whatever this about, don't do it," she urged softly.
"Don't matter none," Merle growled. "It's been decided. Ain't nothin' you gonna say that could change shit." He shrugged at her and moved away, his boots thumping dully on the concrete as he headed to the watch tower.
"I'm not done talking," she hissed weakly after him.
She watched as he stopped, before turning to her, "Ain't nothing to talk 'bout no more, darlin'," he spat. He turned away from her, and she couldn't help the flailing panic grip her. Her heart lurched in her chest as she stepped out after him, her boots thumping the same path he did.
"Merle," she called out after him, and she wondered at the fact that he stopped, not looking at her. She hurried up to him. "You're better than this." she said quietly.
He shook his head at her, "I ain't," he grunted. His eyes locked tightly on hers, and she could see the warning glowing brightly in his smoky eyes. "Ya don't know what ya doin', mouse," he sighed. "Save all this shit for my brother. I ain't got no time to be dealin' with this crap."
"If you told me, I would know. What the hell are you doing?" She questioned, her eyes meeting and holding his gaze.
He narrowed his eyes. "Doin' what Rick's asked me to do," he answered simply.
"What if I asked you not to?" Her heart hammered in her chest, she knew she was pushing him, but she was suddenly afraid of what was going on, afraid for him, and it didn't help that Daryl's warning was crowding in her mind, demanding answers. "We're both worried about you-"
He strode back over to her, and angrily rammed his hand at her shoulder, "Don't ya dare," he breathed, "Don't you fuckin' dare. You ain't puttin' that on me." He rubbed at his forehead with the heel of his hand, before settling it back on her shoulder, his grip tight and pinching at her. "You should go. I can't damn well fuckin' think with ya hangin' around my ass."
Carol sighed, feeling suddenly weary and defeated. She felt the tears prickling hotly behind her eyes and she irritably swatted at them. Merle was still stood so close to her that she could feel the warmth of his body in the chill air. His hand loosened its tight grip on her shoulder, but he didn't pull it back.
"I ain't never been the right brother for ya, Carol." Merle said suddenly. His voice was low and gravelly, "Don't think I ever could be. Daryl is. Ya been good for him. I've seen, an' I ain't stupid."
He moved closer to her and as she looked up at him frowning, his hand dropped from her shoulder, brushing softly against her cheek, before his fingers tilted her chin up. His eyes dropped to her lips, and she swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry. His eyes were haunted as he paused before sighing bitterly-and then he was lowering his head to hers, and she closed her eyes as his lips brushed against hers, his rough stubble prickling not unpleasantly against her skin. Her heart pounded so hard in her chest that she swore he could hear it, and before she could respond to his brief kiss, he was gone, and she heard the steady thump of his boots echo on the concrete as he strode quickly away from her.
Tears stung brightly at her eyes again, and she wondered at the fact that it felt like he had just said goodbye.
...