AN: Here we are, another piece here.
I hope you enjoy! Please don't forget to let me know what you think!
111
"What?" Carol asked.
"You know," Daryl said. "Physicals. Just like check-ups. A goin' over. Whatever you wanna call it."
Carol eyed him like he'd just suggested she submit to having a hole drilled right through the middle of her head. She started shaking her head, possibly before she even fully committed to the movement.
"No," she said. "No…no…"
Daryl's stomach tightened, but he did his best to maintain his outer calm. Across the kitchen, Carol's sudden rise in anxiety was palpable. She did her best to turn her attention back to the food she was preparing, but Daryl noticed a slight tremor in her fingers even at this distance.
He eased a step or two closer, wanting to leave her enough space to feel like she could breathe and, also, like she could escape if she absolutely needed to do so. He had already decided that he wouldn't take it personally if she bolted under some false pretense.
"I mean—we're all doin' it."
"There's no reason," Carol said.
Daryl laughed, but quickly swallowed it back.
"Plenty of reason," Daryl said. "We're lookin' at possibly the hardest winter comin' that any of us has ever known. It's best to just, you know…know what we're dealin' with."
Carol moved the little onions she'd chopped so finely that they had become something akin to a paste to the pot on the stove. Immediately, the scent filled the air and Daryl's stomach growled in response. The stew she was making would need time to simmer and turn into their dinner, but he was looking forward to it already.
When she'd finished moving the onion, she put her knife back on the cutting board, and she wiped her hands on the towel next to her. She turned to Daryl and crossed her arms under her breasts.
Daryl didn't point out that, standing in the position she was currently in, he could see the growing evidence of the tummy that he was becoming very aware of when they were alone together. He swallowed back his smile at the thought when it crossed his mind.
"What's the point?" Carol breathed out.
"The point?" He asked.
She shrugged.
"So—what? If we know that someone is…whatever…we just know what's coming. But there's nothing we can do, Daryl. We just know…and then we all sit and stare…and we wait for something horrible to happen."
Daryl heard her voice crack slightly. He saw, too, the glimmer of her eyes filling. He recognized the stance that she took, and the tilt to her head, that came with the fight against certain feelings. He stepped closer to her, easing like he might if he wanted to approach a frightened animal and not the love of his life.
"Why's it gotta be somethin' horrible we're waitin' for?" Daryl asked. "Why can't it be somethin'…wonderful?"
She looked at him. She made eye contact with him. He held her eyes, despite the fact that his chest felt nearly wracked with pain at the agony he saw in her eyes. He held his arms out toward her and she visibly hesitated. He didn't take it personally. He reminded himself of the pact he'd made with himself before he'd even walked in the door—he wasn't going to take it personally, none of it, because it simply wasn't personal. He knew that.
He was poking his finger directly into a wound that was nowhere near healed—a wound that might never heal. If she recoiled, it wasn't personal. Not at all.
"We find out we're just…waiting for death," Carol said. Her voice trembled. Daryl felt the tremor like a vibration through his body.
He shook his head gently.
"Not always, we're not," he offered. "Sometimes—maybe we're just…waitin' for life. It could be a wonderful thing, Carol. Waitin' for life…"
Her chin trembled. Daryl's breath caught. He couldn't breathe. He was breathing, but he couldn't breathe. He couldn't draw in air the way he wanted to draw it in. He couldn't feel it filling his lungs and relieving the pain that squeezed them.
"No," Carol said, shaking her head at him.
Daryl swallowed. He tried to force whatever he could of a smile—for her.
"Yeah," he said. "Yeah—could be, I mean."
"Death is…all we have left…in this world, Daryl. This world…kills everything. There's just…death."
Daryl laughed. He didn't feel the laughter. It wasn't sincere. It was the release of his body—a pressure valve letting off steam. It rumbled up through his tight chest and somehow slipped by his even tighter throat.
"See—that's where you're wrong. It's where…it's where you're wrong, Carol," Daryl said, trying not to choke on words that threatened to get hung in his throat. "We got death. Hell—it's still there. Always been there. Just around the damn corner. We got it…"
"It's all we have!" Carol snapped.
Daryl tensed, but immediately made himself relax. It wasn't personal. None of it was personal. And her pain—her pain was deeper, and sharper, and hotter than his…and he could hold her pain, if that's what she needed to help her really start to process it and release some of it.
"No," he said. "No, Carol…no. It ain't all we have. It ain't. And you know that." He eased toward her. He got close enough to touch her. He tapped her chest. "In here? You know that. Even if…if up here…it's kinda cloudy." He tapped her temple. "You know we got more'n death now. That's what brought us here. That's what got us here, remember?" He gave her the best smile he could when she brought her eyes up to meet his again. Her eyes were full of tears and he pretended his own vision wasn't blurred. He took her hand in his. He worked her fingers in his. "Remember—you married me. You remember that?"
"Of course, I remember," Carol said, a hint of scolding for his silliness in her tone. "I love you."
Daryl's smile came a little easier.
"I love you, too," he said.
For a moment, that thought hung between them. Daryl thought about the whole situation—the trauma, the worry, the desire not to push her, and he wondered what he should do and how he should proceed. Should he back away? Should he push forward? How much was too much?
He didn't know if he was doing the right thing, but he decided that he would never know that, really, so his only choice was to do the best he could.
"If you really believed there was nothin' for us but to sit and wait for death to get us," Daryl said, "then you wouldn'ta come all the way to Wyoming with me. You wouldn't have. You wouldn'ta fought to get this far, Carol. Somewhere, and maybe it's way down deep inside you, but somewhere you're believin' that there's a life for us. A life, Carol."
"I want to believe that," Carol said.
"Then, believe it," Daryl said. "There's life for us all. You and me…Beau and Lydia. All of us…there's life. That's what the hell we're here for." He reached out for her and pulled her into him. She hesitated, rigid for a second, and then she sank into the hug. Daryl rubbed her back. "That's what we're here for. Life, Carol. A new life—and all the hell that means."
Carol wrapped herself tightly around Daryl, and he squeezed her to comfort her and remind her, beyond all question, that he was there. He would stay there, like that, and hold her for as long as she wanted. The rest of the world could go on without them.
"This is just—somethin' to help us all get ready, you know? Know what we're dealin' with. Figure out if everyone's healthy and…you know…maybe who gets a little special attention with the cold comin' and all that."
"We can take care of each other without…we don't need…" Carol said, all her ideas left hanging in the dampness she left against Daryl's neck.
"We can," he said. "But—this is just an extra precaution. Alice's done been around to everyone else. Figures—you know—we could talk about anything we gotta talk about at supper—everybody together. It'll be ready by the time she's done with everyone." Daryl tightened his hold on Carol. She seemed to be calming. He thought he could feel her calming.
He thought, too, that he could feel her belly press against him—he'd noticed it more, these days, as they made love. He noticed it in the shower. He noticed it while they slept. When he was sure that she was content, and settled, he would rest his palm there, and she'd never asked him not to, and she'd never asked him why he did it. Neither of them ever said a thing about it.
"Is there anything you wanna…talk to me about?" Daryl asked.
"I can't lose you," Carol breathed out.
Daryl shushed her, the same way he often shushed her at night when nightmares plagued her sleep and made her wake up crying or, at the worst of times, screaming for some kind of nocturnal mercy. She still saw Sophia, turned into one of those monsters. She still imagined the terror of her daughter's final days. She relived her own feelings of helplessness and fear. She still saw Mika murdered. She saw Lizzie—and she remembered what she'd had to do out of mercy for Lizzie and without worrying about what it would do to her own mind forever. She remembered Rick's words about Judith and Carl. How he'd said, even though he'd probably never fully meant it, that he would never trust her with them again. He'd said that nobody would ever want her with them again and, though it wasn't true, it haunted her. Even though Daryl had tried to keep it from her, she remembered her son's head on a pike—and a burial of nothing more than that head because a monster had desecrated her son's body.
As the little life inside of her grew, the nightmares seemed to be worse. Daryl seemed to have to wake her more often. The sheets were more often soaked with her sweat.
If he could take the pain from her, he would. All of it. He would carry it, himself, if he could take it from her.
All he could do, though, was hold her while she hurt and promise her that there would be better days.
Daryl did believe there would be better days. He believed that they would both know better days. The little one she carried wouldn't erase the hurt, and he knew that, but he thought that, perhaps, it could heal some little piece of her broken heart.
As the weather cooled down, and they all spent their active days preparing for the cold that was coming and their rest days storing strength and healing from the wounds that they all licked in private and, sometimes, in the protective comfort of their newfound family, the little life grew—even if they never mentioned it by name.
"I'm not goin' anywhere," Daryl said. "I'm not. I'm—healthy as a horse, Carol."
Carol pulled out of the hug and looked at him with a tear-streaked face. She pawed at her face.
"What if that's not what Alice says?"
"It's what she'll say," Daryl said. "You gonna be with me, right?" He smiled at her and touched her chin. "Hold my hand?" He winked at her.
"What if we find out things that we…can't handle?" Carol asked.
"You an' me can handle whatever the hell we got to handle," Daryl said. "We can. There ain't shit we can't handle together. And whatever we find out, we'll just do that. We'll handle that shit together. But—I ain't goin' nowhere, Carol. No matter what. I'm right fuckin' here. It's you an' me. And when they lay my ass in the ground—and it'll be a long damn time 'fore they do—it'll be right here in Wyoming. Right here with you. You ain't goin' nowhere, right? I don't have to worry?"
"I'm with you," Carol said. "Always."
Daryl nodded at her.
"Good," he said. "You gonna stay with me when Alice gets here in a little bit?"
"Supper…"
"Lydia'll watch over the pot," he said. "And I can watch over it while you stay with her, if she wants it. I'll stay with you, OK?"
Carol chewed her lip and looked a little green. Daryl wiped at her face with his hand.
"Hey—" he said, smiling at her. "You got—somethin' you wanna…talk to me about?"
"No," she said, shaking her head.
"Fine," Daryl said. "But if you do…"
"No," Carol said, shaking her head. "Just…if…"
She didn't finish with words. She finished what she had to say with a shrug and shook her head. Daryl heard it, anyway. He hummed and nodded.
"Whatever we hear? You and me? We got a life together. OK? We worked too damn hard to get here. We fought too damn hard. We deserve what we got here. We deserve all the hell we gonna have. And—we gonna have a life. A life fuckin' abundant, Carol. You hear me?" She smiled. It was the smallest hint of a smile, but it was a smile. "It's gonna be a good winter," Daryl said. "Cold as shit, but the best we ever had—you and me. You hear me? Because—we got us a whole ass life."
She smiled and nodded.
"OK," she said.
"OK," Daryl echoed. "You need help gettin' everything else in that pot?" She shook her head. "Alice'll be here in…a half hour maybe. I'ma just…go smoke a cigarette, OK? Get a lil' air. Make sure nobody don't need nothin'. You OK?"
"As long as…" Carol said. Her voice cracked. She was calming, but she hadn't calmed entirely.
"Everything's OK," Daryl said, nodding his head. He kissed her gently, and then he stepped out onto the porch to give her a little space. He wasn't going far, though. He'd be right where she could get to him when she needed him, even if he wouldn't make her admit that she needed him.