Daryl shoved aside his exhaustion and made a decision. No more messing around. No more waiting. He got to work. Carol accidentally ruins the sweatshirt Daryl gave her for Christmas.
The vibes for this chapter were inspired by "Catalogue" by Penny and Sparrow as well as the old New Year's standard "Auld Lang Syne" by Guy Lombardo.
Catalogue
The sun was slowly descending in the sky, hanging low on the western side of the house, shifting the late afternoon light to soft hues of orange and maroon. Carol leaned against the fence, two walkers crumpled at her feet, rancid blood smeared across the front of her Nebraska sweatshirt, her hands bloody, and a splatter of blood across her right cheekbone. She was looking across the fields, arms slung across a fence post as she ruminated on the unfairness of it all. Carol's tears, accompanied by her quiet sobbing, hadn't stopped since she cleared the alarm system and ensured it was still in working order. Her eyes closed as she relished the feel of the mild breeze against her skin and shivered.
A crack of a branch.
"I didn't want you to follow me," she sputtered and then hiccuped on a breath. No reply. She turned around, coming face to face with the stag, looking her directly in the eyes. Carol let out a soft gasp, wiping at her eyes. Her heavy tears stopped with the sudden surprise of the beautiful creature standing directly before her with its wagging tail. It stepped forward, sniffing the air around Carol curiously.
She was suddenly apprehensive—tense as she reached for her knife-but a feeling in her chest told her to leave it. The animal stopped just before her, leaning its head forward with half-open eyes, blinking lazily at her. She stared in awe and confusion, her knife hanging loose in her hand. The stag leaned its nose downward, antlers knocking her shoulder as his head angled just so to nip at her sleeve and lick her hand. "Whoa," the knife slipped from between her fingers and thudded softly onto the ground. His nose prodded her hand again, asking for her attention. She raised her right hand, gently scratching along the top of his head, just under his antlers, as requested. "You like that?" The deer closed his eyes at her touch and turned his head. A long tongue snaking out to give her another enthusiastic lick. "You been following me?" She asked in a hushed tone. "I've seen you around checkin' the place out," Carol's hand grazed gently down the animal's nape as she let out a soft laugh.
There was a crunch of dead brush and branches underfoot of something or someone else, and the deer's attention shifted, his neck craning up and his eyes wide as he peered around. Another crunch of ice from behind her, and the deer, entirely startled, hopped the fence. Carol's eyes followed as it disappeared across the field. "Know you're there," she sighed, turning around to see Daryl, bundled under his poncho, hat covering his ears, his bow slung over his shoulder as he coughed into his gloved hand. "Not as quiet as you usually are," she crossed her arms.
He scoffed, ignoring her insult, "Was at least a five-point buck. Would be good to bag him…" his words drifted away as he took in the sight of her. This woman, the love of his life, had been outside avoiding him for the last two hours. She had no coat and no other weapon than her knife. He'd returned inside as requested, only to berate himself once his eyes settled on the kitchen table with the box of party supplies. He shoved aside his exhaustion and made a decision. No more messing around. No more waiting. He got to work.
While waiting for her to return, he'd crawled up to the attic to search for something to help him make up with Carol. To his surprise, she hadn't been joking about the romance novels. Glancing curiously into one of the boxes, he eyed one titled A Kiss at Midnight, his cheeks flushed at just the thought of it- of her. He grabbed the book and shoved it into his back pocket, an idea sparking in his mind.
"You should be back inside resting," she spoke, bringing him back to the present, her voice tinged with annoyance as she bent down to retrieve the knife at her feet.
He gripped the strap on his bow nervously, swallowed the lump in his throat, and coughed, "You been out here a long time," his eyes traveled down to the smear of black viscous blood soaking through the front of her sweatshirt, his brow wrinkled with concern, "Ya' okay?"
She followed his eyes before looking up and meeting his wary look with a nod, "Ruined just like everything else, I guess." She shrugged, shoving her knife back in its sheath. "You probably want dinner?"
He shook his head. "Not why I came out to get ya."
"Okay? Then what?" she gave him a pointed look.
He stood there frozen again, his knuckles white against the strap of his bow. "Just- was worried, and I have somethin' inside I wanna show ya."
She shook her head sadly, then stepped back to the fence line, her elbows leaning across the top rail. He followed cautiously, landing in a spot just beside her, watching as she stared out across the field. He felt a pull in his chest as he witnessed her tears fall again. "You ever wonder if maybe we both should've stayed in Virginia?" she sniffed loudly and wiped at her wet cheeks.
"It don't matter cause we're right here," he braced himself against the fence rail and adjusted his bow.
She rested her head on her arm, placing her chin in the crook of her elbow, cocking her head to the side, giving him a wary glance, "A week ago, you told me you couldn't see yourself wanting to live if I died. Was that true?"
He exhaled a frustrated sigh, "Course. You think I'm just makin' shit up?"
She wiped the snot from her nose against her sleeve and stood up, chin jutted out, her jaw clenched, "I don't know, I feel like I'm going crazy. Every time we get close to something, you do a one-eighty on me. I mean, goddamn, we're sleeping in the same bed. You've made me promise you over and over that we're gonna make this life together. We have a future, right?" Her eyes were alight with rage at the familiar phrase.
The words dug deeply into him as he stumbled over his words again, "I ain't good with my words sometimes I-"
"So you just make promises you don't wanna really keep? You wanna string me along?" She spat out, hurt flashing across his features as she cut him off.
He shook his head and took a step away from her. "Fuck this,' his own anger bubbling under his breath as he turned to walk away.
"You're good at that, ya know- walking away."
He spun back around, his nostrils flaring as he pointed angrily at her chest, "You ain't any better! Always fuckin' runnin'!"
"I'm done running," she deflated, turned back to the fence with her shoulders slumped forward. "I told you already why before- said you understood but if you don't-" her lip quivered as the rest of the sentence died on her lips.
He felt the anger ebb from his body at the despair in her eyes. He eyed her carefully as she turned to look into the vast horizon line of the barren plains again.
"I guess while we're here," she began, swallowing painfully, "and I'm burning everything we've worked toward to fuckin' ash-
He recognized the agony in her voice; it was the same as he heard all the way back in Atlanta, "You ain't burnin' it all down- I'm sorry-"
She choked on a sob and cut him off, "You don't need to apologize," she threw up her hands and took a step back from him. "There's so much I haven't told you-before Atlanta? Those girls?" her voice warbled, and her head shook. He reached out to touch her, desperate in his own way to stay connected to her. She shook off his attempt for connection and pulled away, bringing her hand up to cover another sob, "Please don't," her face full of agony.
"I've had to kill so many people," she ground out through her teeth. "And I don't- After having to make that choice with the girls?"
"You saved that baby's life." His eyes filled with sadness for her.
"For how long? She's not here now, is she?" she asked bitterly, wiping the snot from her nose. Her words were a punch to his gut. She was right. Another painful reminder that they were all that was left. "I lied to Lizzie, told her to look at the flowers," she hiccuped and held her hand up as if she were aiming her gun and mimicked pulling the trigger. "How could one little girl be so dangerous that she had to die?" she asked him. "How is that fair?"
"Tyrese shouldn't have made ya-"
"Tyrese was too soft." her eyes saddened as she looked away from him. "All of them were too soft," she said resolutely.
He felt his stomach roll, bile rising in his throat. His hand landed on Carol's forearm, "We're all we got left."
"Is that enough for you?" she questioned him.
He swallowed nervously, his heart pounding as he nodded. She closed her eyes and wiped her cheek as she hiccuped again. He reached for her again, "C'mere."
She smiled sadly, "I love you, you know?"
His hand stilled on her forearm; her left hand covered it. "And it's not some friend or brother-sister thing. I've been in love with you for a long while now, and it's painful as hell to think that..." her words trailed off as her eyes searched his for an answer. "I just thought before-"
"Carol?" his voice panicked, his heart threatening to leap from his chest at her admission as he stood frozen in place beside her.
A fat tear slipped down her cheek as she turned away, shaking her head. "I just royally screwed all of this up," she gasped. "You don't- you couldn't, obviously," She covered her mouth, and his heart twinging as he caught the embarrassment flashing in her eyes. "You know what?" she asked, looking at him. "Forget I said any of this." She glanced back out to the horizon and sighed, "I just wanted to celebrate New Year's eve. New moon, maybe a new life," she shrugged sadly and pushed off of the fence, "I'm gonna check the rest of the fence line," she called over her shoulder as she walked away from him.
His heart was racing wildly, and his eyes were filled with something akin to joy as he finally found the words to speak, "You know, I ain't real sure the other day was really Christmas," he called after her.
In the glow of dusk, she turned back to him, her face soft with sadness but luminescent. Her tears were somehow startled out of her at his words. "What are you talking about?" her brows knit together in confusion.
"You-" he coughed softly, "Takes me a minute sometimes-findin' my words-and I have somethin' I'd like to show you inside if you let me."
She gave him an incredulous look, "You don't don't hate me? After everything I just told you?" she whimpered.
"Ain't got it in me," he stepped forward, reaching his hand out and shaking his head.
"But I-"
"I done my fair share a' fuckin' up too. But we're here, and everyone else-" Daryl chewed on his lip, her eyes brimming with hope and unshed tears as he thought carefully through his following words, "I gave you that Christmas as a promise to rebuild somethin' turns out we ain't never even had before all this went to hell. But, somethin' keeps tellin' me we still gotta chance at it anyway," His heart beat faster at the small smile blooming on her face. "An- I done almost fucked up this whole-" he motioned back toward the house. "You want a New Year?" She nodded, "You wanna future?" she nodded again, "Then I wanna give that to you," he said sincerely.
"You really don't-" she began to shrug him off.
"Carol," he spoke sternly, his loving gaze unwavering.
"Daryl, you don't-" she looked at him bashfully.
"Take my hand," he demanded, still waiting for her to take his hand.
"I'm not sure-" he eyed her hands, fidgeting at her sides as she hesitated.
"S'usually me doin' the hesitatin'," he teased, nodding toward his hand.
She rolled her eyes and smiled, wiping her face, "I'm a mess; my head is all jumbled up sometimes. I have nightmares and dreams and-"
"Know that too," he cut her off, "Maybe we both got things in our heads, bout time we undid 'em all, figure we've had a good start over some of it. Like today, bout them girls, and how ya feel- and I-" he blushed, she grabbed his hand then. And, feeling brave at the moment, he pulled her alongside him, wrapping his arm around her shoulder, and pointed them toward the house, "I gotta make some things up to you too; some of my own things still need to be undone."
They both stared ahead at the house, dark from the outside, but so much life waiting for them within it as they walked side by side.
"Ya cold," he commented, guiding them both forward.
She shook her head no, leaning into the comfort of his touch. She glanced down at her sweatshirt and sighed. "Ruined my sweatshirt though."
"Getch'ya a new one," he laughed softly and squeezed her shoulder affectionately.
He walked her back to the front porch, turning and stopping them both from entering; she eyed him curiously as he chewed on his cuticle, "So, need ya to cover ya eyes."
She unfurled from under his arm and stood away from him, "What?"
"Just-" he set his bow down on the porch, the light of the evening a cold blue. She could see the warm glow of the light from inside the house, just a sliver at the edges of the window panes. He grabbed her by the shoulders and moved her to stand before the door, "close your eyes."
She closed them tightly and heard him reach behind her. The door opened with a soft click, and their bodies briefly came chest to chest. Her pulse sped up at the contact, and he turned her around, the front of her body now feeling the warmth spilling outside and her back feeling the warmth from his chest against it. "Gonna cover your eyes so you don't cheat," he spoke softly into her ear.
She scoffed, "I'm not a cheater."
"Used ta cheat all the time durin' em' damn poker games at the prison," he grumbled as he shuffled them forward through the door, his hands over her eyes. She let out a beautiful laugh and then brought a hand up to his, anchoring herself with his touch. They came to a sudden stop. She tipped forward slightly and felt his right hand slipping from her eyes to catch her at her waist.
"Can I open them now?"
"Go on," he said, removing his hands from her. She felt him take a step back.
She opened her eyes and stared in shock at the living room. On the coffee table were two wine glasses sitting beside a bottle of wine. The record player in the corner was playing some long-forgotten Christmas standards. He'd gone and strung up not just the white Christmas lights from the New Year's Eve box but had found several other strings of colored Christmas lights and hung them all around the living room ceiling. A sob caught in her throat, and she covered her mouth with her hand. She turned to him, glee and tears present in her eyes.
"You like it?" he spoke softly. A loving look in his eyes.
"You did all of this?" her eyes sparkled under the lights. Daryl gave a curt nod. "Where did you…" her words trailed off, "How did you find this?"
"Jus- say I hauled my ass up to the attic, did a little lookin' round for myself." He smirked.
She approached the coffee table and picked up the bottle, "And just where were you hiding this?" She glared at him skeptically.
He shook his head, his cheeks turning red, "I forgot I saved something'," he said cryptically. He reached up to scratch at his nape, walked to the laundry room, and began removing his outer layers. He called to her, "Should go and put on a new shirt."
She looked down at her sweatshirt and frowned again, "Ugh, alright." She trudged down the hallway, making a right into the bedroom door at the end just before the stairs. She pulled open a drawer, remembering seeing a burgundy plaid shirt while searching for something for Daryl to wear. Her hands sifted gracefully through layers of white and gray, finally seeing the familiar color and pattern. She pulled it from the dresser and smiled while shoving the drawer closed with her hip.
When she re-entered the living room, Daryl stood from the couch, "Color looks good on ya," he smiled.
She blushed and nervously twisted her hands as she looked everywhere but him. Suddenly, the familiar sounds of Auld Lang Syne by Guy Lombardo filled the room.
"C'mere." he reached for her hand. She stepped toward him and took it hesitantly. "Come dance with me?"
"Dance? You?" she squeaked, staring at him as if he'd grown a second head suddenly.
He rolled his eyes, "Don't gotta be like that bout it."
"No, I- I just-" she stammered, flustered and unable to find her words as he pulled her body forward.
"Sound like me now." he chuckled, a look of amusement on his face. "C'mon, I promise ya I ain't half bad." He beamed at her, beginning a gentle two-step, and his right arm slipped gently around her waist.
Should old acquaintance be forgot
And never brought to mind?
She wound her arms up and around his neck as they fell into an easy rhythm and stared with wonder into his eyes. "Pretty romantic," she mused.
Should old acquaintance be forgot
In days of auld lang syne?
She rested her head against his chest. His left hand joined his right against her waist, embracing her fully and dropping his chin to the top of her head.
For Auld Lang Syne, my dear
For Auld Lang Syne
We'll take a cup of kindness yet
He leaned his head back to take in the sight of her as the song slowly faded. The last of the song's lyrics rang in his mind as she lifted her head to gaze up at him, a dreamy look in her eyes.
For Auld Lang Syne
The needle on the record hit the last note of the song, slowly arose, and reset on the edge of the turntable. They paid it no mind as they looked upon one another. His heart beat soundly against her own as they continued swaying to its rhythm, "What made you do all this?"
He shrugged with her still in his arms, his eyes drifting to her lips; he swallowed a lump in his throat and looked into her eyes again, this time bashful, "Know it's been confusin', wanted to show ya-" his eyes drifted down again.
"Show me what?" She exhaled, her hand tracing soft circular patterns on his neck. He shivered under her ministrations, his eyes half-lidded with intense desire as he stared at her lips. "Daryl?"
He gulped, "Think it's tradition."
She furrowed her brow, "What are-" and then she felt it; the soft yet firm, intentional press of his lips to hers. She pitched forward in his arms, her body melting into him, the room filled with soft sighs of pleasure. His arms gripped tightly around her waist as their lips made up for lost time and lost words. Hearts beating in sync.
"Daryl," she sighed in delight as they both came up for air.
"I love you." a look of complete surprise on his face as he comprehended the words that had tumbled effortlessly from his lips.
"Yeah?" tears sprung in her eyes at the admission.
He nodded and leaned back in to capture her lips hungrily. "Been wantin'," he gasped between kisses, "t'do that for awhile."
"S'nice," she mumbled into his lips.
They pulled apart again, panting, eyes full of hunger for one another. "Happy New Year." he declared with a love-drunk smile.
"Happy New Year," she giggled softly. Her eyes shone brightly beneath the soft, twinkly lights in the room. "Pretty romantic. Wanna screw around?" she stared at him dreamily.
"With you?" his eyes sparkled. "Always."
She shook with laughter in his arms, and his chest rumbled with his own mirth, "I love you too, ya know."
"Heard ya earlier, loved you just as long. Just real hard for me to figure it out, and when I did, I didn't know how to tell ya," Daryl pulled Carol's hand from the back of his neck and placed her palm against his chest, "Ya make me goddamn nervous," he chuckled.
"You're doing just fine," she smiled and turned to look at the clock on the kitchen counter. It was only 5 PM.
"What?" he asked curiously, his breath calming.
She bit her lip, "You said something about traditions?"
"Yeah, New Year's kiss. I do okay with that?" he grinned, knowing the answer from the pleased smile on her face.
"Better than okay, it's just-" she paused, a glint of humor in her eyes, "It's not midnight yet."
"Well, could keep practicin' 'til it's time?" his chest heaved a deep breath. Carol nodded, staring at his lips. He appeased them both by sweeping her up in another sultry kiss.