Work Text:
Never opened myself this way
Life is ours, we live it our way
All these words, I don't just say
And nothing else matters
Nothing Else Matters - Metallica
She had never looked at him like this before. Not even when his hair-trigger temper had gotten the best of him way too often back at the quarry. For as long as he’d known her, she’d been friendly towards him, had treated him as if she believed what she'd eventually told him not that long ago, that he was ‘every bit as good as them’.
Now??? It was crystal clear she disapproved of his actions, was disappointed in him and it fucking stung. Still, he couldn’t move, couldn’t run, even when he felt the need to leave this mess of a situation behind in his very bone.
“You couldn’t hit me, so you beat up a kid? Is that who you are now?”
“He ain't no kid… he’d do a lot worse than hitting you if you gave him the chance.”
Didn’t she understand? Didn’t she knew what people were capable of nowadays, kid or no kid?
“That’s not what this is about and you know it.”
“What do you want me to do? Huh? I don’t need this.”
Couldn't she just stop it? He couldn’t deal with this. Not now. Not at all.
“Don’t pretend like you don’t care. You want your friendship back, take it… take back every kind, smart thing you ever said. I don’t care, I’ve lost worse. But don’t sit back here and tend to your bloody fists… and pretend you don’t care.”
Each of her words sliced right through him, hurt, but it was one of them that had his heart stammer in his chest.
Friendship…
She thought they had a friendship, that he was her friend?
He didn’t have friends, never really had, his hostile temper keeping people away, just as he preferred. What good was it to let people come too close? It only meant they got the chance to hurt you, leave when things got too complicated.
And yet... his foul moods had never kept Carol away. Maybe because Ed had beaten the feeling of fear right out of her, although it was more likely she was simply used to violence, expected it even. Only good the rotten bastard was gone for good. To think he could lay his dirty paws on his wife one more time…
He shoved the thought aside. This wasn't about Ed, it was about Carol. About him and Carol.
Carol who was the only one who had ever smiled at him as if she saw something good in him, someone who mattered. To them all. To her.
She was walking away now, back to the house, had said what she’d needed to say. He watched her although the relief he thought he'd feel was absent. He had what he wanted now, hadn’t he?
Fuckin’ woman… she just didn’t understand.
Without wanting to, without any clear idea what he wanted to say, to do, he hurried after her, called out.
“Stop.”
She did, turning quickly, the anger in her eyes almost enough to make him back off.
When he reached her, it was she who spoke first.
“What do you want now, Daryl?”
His hands curled into fists before he could stop them, the pain of his bloody knuckles stretching making him hiss, although it was a welcome distraction from the weight of his thoughts.
“Ya think that kid didn’t deserve what he got? He’s no fuckin’ angel.”
“I never said he was. But…”
“No but. You knew he was with a gang of people? That they found a camp, father with two daughters. Young ones. Raped them, with the father watchin', didn’t even kill him afterwards.”
He saw shock transforming into anger and then pity in Carol’s eyes. The fact he was hurting her with words as badly as he could never hurt her with his hands was nauseating.
“Kid said he didn’t rape them. Ya believe him? Ya willin' to place any faith in him?”
Carol’s voice shook when she spoke.
“No, I don't. But it’s not my place to be judge, jury and executioner.”
She still didn’t get it. Fuck, what did it take?
“You want him loose around here? Kid could decide to kill us in our sleep? What if he brings others here?”
Carol shook her head.
“That’s an awful lot of ‘What ifs. I don’t want to hear your justifications. What you did is on your conscience and anyway, at the end of the day it’s you who has to decide who he wants to be in this world.”
She wanted to turn around again, but unwilling to let her go, he grasped her arm, turned her around to him.
“Ya still don't get it. What if he or some others were goin’ to rape you?”
It was the thought that had churned in his stomach since he knew with what kind of people this kid used to hang. What if they got to Carol? She wasn’t made for this world, wouldn’t know how to defend herself. And what about the others? Rick only had eyes for Lori and Carl, Andrea and Shane were on their personal road to destruction, ticking time bombs about to go up any moment. Dale? Too old? T-Dog? A good guy but not close to any of them. Who would be there for Carol when shit began to hit the fan? No one. Fucking no one!
He wasn’t a smart man but far from being stupid. Carol was a burden to these people. She was good enough to clean their clothes, to cook their meals but not important enough to listen to, not important enough to protect when it came right down to it.
Her eyes had narrowed now as if trying to figure out what he was not saying, and then she sighed.
“If that happened… well, I guess I’d die.”
The way she spoke so calmly made his hackles rise.
“That’s it? You’d die. Shit happens?”
“That’s it. Who cares what happens to me? Most of the people here think I’m a burden or just crazy anyway. And let’s face it, I don’t have anybody any longer. It doesn’t matter if I live or die. And rape… it wouldn’t be the first time it happened to me.”
She bit down her bottom lip, looked over his shoulder, her gaze distant before she took a deep breath, faced him again.
“This isn’t about me. This was your decision. Don’t try to blame it on me now.”
She freed her arm from his gasp, turned away once again. She’d made a few steps when he called out to her once more, needing to get the words out before they swallowed him.
“I care.”
He could feel his heart beat in his throat, the tiny confession making bile rise up in his throat. He wasn’t supposed to care. People you cared about would use your feelings to hurt you, a lesson that had been imprinted in his very skin.
Carol was rooted to the spot, two simple words shaking her equilibrium worse than this whole messed up day had.
Daryl cared.
About her.
She had known it deep in her heart, a knowledge, buried even deeper than the sorrow over Sophia’s death, but to hear him say it aloud was a shock to her system.
He didn’t pretend he didn’t care any longer.
Needing to look at him, to see the truth in his eyes, she turned slowly, afraid of what she would see. If life had taught her one thing, it was best to keep her eyes averted, to shrink into the shadows so she wouldn’t be noticed, so she couldn’t be hurt. Not that it had helped. No matter how much effort she had put into keeping the house clean, cook the best meals she could, please Ed… it had never been enough, the slightest irregularity enough to have him take out all his aggressions on her.
She didn’t want to avert her eyes any longer but for now it still meant fighting her natural instincts.
Daryl stood as still as she had, looking as shell-shocked as she felt.
“You care?” she almost whispered.
He had heard her anyway, the look of painful insecurity morphing into one of anger for a moment. Strangely enough this was easier to bear. It made her wonder what it was that drew her toward aggressive men.
Although Daryl might be aggressive but he wasn’t brutal, not like Ed anyway. Daryl could’ve easily hit her instead of just screaming at her a few nights ago. A few times she'd thought it would’ve been better if he had hit her after all, his every word stinging more than his fists would have. Still, he wouldn’t be the man she admired if he had; a man with a gruff exterior but a tender heart.
For some reason she couldn't explain herself, she felt she could see right through him. She just knew he had a gentle soul, which made his actions today all the more horrifying. The apocalypse had cost them all so much already, it wasn’t worth losing oneself just because others didn’t fancy doing the bloody work or to try and find a different solution.
“Yeah, I do. So?”
So…
So what? If he didn’t know what to do with his unexpected confession, how should she? It wasn’t as if she was used to anybody caring about her. The only one who had in the last two decades was Sophia, and her little girl was gone.
She slowly shook her head.
“I… “
She had no idea what to say, spoke her thoughts if only to fill the heavy silence between them.
“What do you want from me, Daryl? What do you want me to do?”
He shrugged, looked away, then at her again.
“Don’t know.”
He bridged the distance between them, step by step, looking as if he was about to bolt at any second.
She understood, oh, she understood the impulse so well. Her own body screamed at her to run, adrenaline pumping through her veins, going straight to her head and leaving her slightly breathless. She didn’t move, wouldn't. She was done running, done hiding. Her rag-tag family might think her unfit for the apocalypse and most likely she was but for now she was still here, still alive.
Daryl stopped when it was single step separating them, his eyes locking with hers. When she carried the bandages to him he had reminded her of a tiger, ready to pounce at any moment, now he was like a doe, primed to flee as it scented the hunter. The thought almost made her smile, even when it made her sad that Daryl was afraid, of her of all people.
“Don’t know,” he repeated.
“If you don’t know what you want, how should I?”
He looked down once, at his feet, his inner torment almost palpable. When he looked up he took a ragged breath, taking the last step so they were sharing the same space.
Panic rose up inside her, all the fears born by her past wanting to crash over her and yet, there was this tiny flame of hope…of want that kept her still, nearly frozen.
“Dammit, Carol.”
Daryl’s voice had dropped a register, trembled.
“I want you to survive.”
She watched him swallow.
“Don’t wanna lose you.”
She remembered her own confession, just a few days ago and she thought she finally understood. In spite of their glaring differences, they were alike, two tortured souls who had found understanding and acceptance in the other, a connection that was forming into strong bond pulling them towards each other.
She raised a trembling hand, touching her palm to his cheek for a fleeting second before dropping it quickly.
“I’m still here,” she said.
“Good.”
He nodded once, and this time she watched how he raised his own hand, shaking just like hers had. It came to rest lightly at the base of her neck. A shiver ran down her back, and she wet her dry lips with the tip of her tongue before opening her mouth to speak..
His gaze fixated on her mouth and it had her thoughts shattering while she waited for his next move with bated breath.
Slowly, so, so slowly he leaned in, giving her all the chances in the world to stop this, to run if she so desired. She didn’t, couldn’t, her need for a connection with this man stronger than her fear.
His chapped lips meeting hers sent a sharp spark of desire through her body, making it feel alive with sensation. Although it was her emotions that almost broke her, the wave of tenderness cresting inside her, the wish to pull him even closer and never let him go.
Daryl withdrew way too soon for her liking, the fear of rejection in his gaze calling out to everything in her, the onslaught of feelings in her heart making tears well up in her eyes.
She didn’t have the words to make him understand she’d never hurt him, that she felt the same he did, so she reached out for him, her hands on his cheek before she got on her toes to return the kiss and kiss him again and again. It was imperfectly perfect, each brush of her lips against his reminding her she was alive, that she could still feel good things, that there was someone she cared for and who cared for her in return.
When the tip of his tongue hesitantly ran over her bottom lip, she parted her lips without hesitation, inviting him in.
Nothing was solved.
Nothing was certain.
For all she knew they could be dead tomorrow but for this brief moment in time, they were alive and nothing else mattered.