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They sat side by side on top of the roof, a cigarette hanging from Daryl’s lip. For once, there was no scowl on his face. No pinch to his mouth, No line between his brows. While the sun set, lighting Alexandria with a soft lilac glow, stars began to twinkle in the cloudless sky, and between it and the full moon Carl had a clear view of Daryl’s expression.
“So what do you think?” Carl asked him quietly. He didn’t gesture towards the packing trucks in front of their house. He eyed his father with King Ezekiel, Jesus mediating between them. He saw Michonne standing beside Maggie, one hand on her elbow, the other on her shoulder, a worried expression in her eyes while Maggie looked at her exasperatedly.
“I don’t trust ‘em,” Daryl muttered, “but if it means taking him out I’m gonna side with whoever is willin’ to take him on.”
Carl nodded. He followed Daryl’s gaze to where Jesus stood with his hands crossed over his chest between Rick and Ezekiel. “What about Jesus? Do you trust him?”
Daryl took a long drag, but Carl saw the way his eyes softened minutely, the way the tension in his shoulders eased up. then: “I do.”
Taking a chance, Carl told him, “He trusts you, too. And… more, I think.”
“I know,” Daryl replied simply.
Even softer, Carl asked, “What about you?”
Finally, Daryl looked away and down at his hands, the cigarette twirling between his fingers. “I think I do, too,” he admitted.
Carl smiled, nudging Daryl gently with his elbow to catch his eyes. When he finally did, there was a vulnerability in them that Carl didn’t get to see very often, but he nodded at Daryl anyways, sliding his arm around his back comfortingly. “I’m happy for you,” he said simply. “You deserve something good, and Jesus…. He’s good.”
If Daryl went inside that night and gave himself a few minutes to collect himself because oh god, someone knows now – no one was any the wiser.