Caryl reunion with a forehead touch. bonus for a "Nine Lives =, remember"
They didnât reunite properly until the next day, long after night fall, after Carol and Tyreese, carrying Judith and an unconscious Daryl, had run into Rick and everyone else. Daryl was out cold for over 24 hours after the emergency amputation of his two fingers. Bob attributed it to trauma and whatever other strain his body had been through over the past few days. Between hashing things out with Rick, clearing the air with everyone else, seeing the Grimes family together again, and getting acquainted with the newcomers to their motley crew, Carol was pretty sure she could use a 24 hour nap too.
But she couldnât. She couldnât sleep. She had dozed on the drive, but she hadnât slept, truly slept, since the pecan grove. Their camp for the night was a naturally formed, shallow cave in the steep hillside several miles away from Terminus. It was high ground, it was dry, and it was walker-free. The others had bedded down and quickly succumbed to sleep, save for Tara, who took first watch, and Carol, who situated herself beside Daryl and continued her vigil.
Daryl had been quietâŠquieter than sheâd seen him in a long time. Even at the prison, at its most secure, he never slept well. Never deeply and never for long enough. To see him this quiet and this still was unnerving, and Carol found herself drifting her fingers through his hair just to touch him and know that he was real and alive and breathing.
There was no fever, none of discomfort or illness that indicated that the bite had been fatal. Bob had been regularly cleaning and changing the dressing on Darylâs hand, and for now his hand was laid across his stomach, a blob of white gauze. His skin was cool to the touch, if a little clammy. He was okay. He was going to be okay. They would be okay.
Carol let him come around at his own pace. Michonne had relieved Tara of watch by the time Daryl started to twitch and stir. Carol shifted in her seat beside where he was lying, taking his left hand, the uninjured one, in one of hers, lifting it to her chest as she reached her other hand toward his face, hoping to gently coax him back to life.
âDaryl?â she enunciated clearly but quietly.
His head leaned in her direction, and she saw his eyes struggling to open. She impatiently restrained herself, reaching into her bag to pull out a bottle of water. She set the bottle in her lap and went back to holding one side of his bruised face.
âDaryl? Hey,â she softly murmured, as he finally peeled both eyes open.
His gaze was glassy and not entirely focused, but his eyes found hers fairly easily. There were no pain killers or anything to give him, and she could already see the fog in his eyes clearing as that pain filtered through, but he stared at her for a long, unadulterated moment regardless.
âCarol?â he grunted hoarsely, wincing.
âHey,â she cooed, running her hand from his cheek up to his temple. âYeah, itâs me.â
The gears were turning in his head, she could see it, and he inhaled sharply as his thoughts started to compile themselves.
âShh, itâs okay,â she assured, scooting closer so that her leg was flush against his side and there was as little space between them as possible. âWeâreââ She wasnât sure where to start explaining. ââsafe.â
Daryl blinked slowly, his throat bobbed, and then he started to lift his right hand. He grimaced and choked back a yelp of pain at the attempt. At the mouth of the cave, Michonne spun around, and across the chamber, Sasha stirred in her sleep.
âEasy,â Carol chided softly. âDo you remember what happened?â
Moisture was collecting at the corners of his eyes, just enough to notice, not enough to actually break free, and he looked away, staring at the ceiling and breathing hard through his nostrils a few times before allowing himself to look at her again.
âYeah.â His voice wobbled, then abruptly strengthened. âThe othersâŠâ
âTheyâre all right. We found them. Weâre all togetherâŠâ She squeezed his other hand, still in her grasp. Her smile faltered, and her shoulders hunched. âGod, for a while there I thoughtâŠI thought Iâd found you only to lose you all over againâŠâ
Daryl was quiet, watching her as she threatened to implode on herself.
He was one of the last truly good things in her life, and she had almost lost him twice in the span of three weeks. What else hadnât she lost? Sheâd lost her home, her girls, her family for a while, and even after airing everything out with the others, she knew they would never again be what they had been. Not she and RickâŠNot she and MaggieâŠNot she and Tyreese and SashaâŠIt had irrevocably changed, but they were not broken.
It all felt so heavy. Every individual loss was a boulder landing on her shoulders, and she didnât know how much more she could take. She was so tired. Exhausted in a way that sleep couldnât fix. And after piling up loss after loss, she couldnât lose him too. Not again. Not now. Not never. The past 24 hours of uncertainty had been Hell.
Now he was awake, he was lucid, and it was all she could do not to fall apart. She could feel herself trembling, unable to reel it in, despite knowing that it was probably going to freak him out.
She felt his hand in hers return the squeeze, and she got a hold of herself, looking at him with tear blurred eyes. Darylâs expression was unreadable for a moment, like he wanted to say something but was having a hard time putting the words together. She watched him struggle, and her chest was fit to burst.
Finally, Daryl unclenched his jaw. âNine lives, remember?â
The last of Carolâs composure crumbled then, and she doubled forward, her top half folding over him. A short bark of laughter croaked out of her throat, and she touched her forehead to his, pinching her eyes closed and not doing any more than that. Her breath came short, and she couldnât stop the tears from breaking free from her eyes, hanging off her eye lashes and rolling down to her nose.
Darylâs good hand slid out from her grasp, moving around her back and up to her shoulder, hooking itself there, anchoring her where she was. Carol had no intention of going anywhere, ever again, without him. She drew a deep breath, just reveling in that sense of another consciousness so close to her. That familiar presence. His body was warm where she was half on top of him, she could feel his heart beat against her chest, and she could feel the tremble in his good hand from where his strength was already giving out.
Reluctantly, Carol lifted her forehead from his, opening her eyes again as he removed his hand from her shoulder, only to let it slide down to a resting place at her hip. He blinked up at her once, unsure how to proceed, with that awkward, nonplussed expression that she hadnât realized that sheâd missed so much, and she leaned forward again, both hands on either side of his face this time as she guided his lips to meet hers.
She kissed him hard, and she kissed him long. Her brows knit together as she drank him in: the taste of him, the smell of him, the hitch in his breath, and the twitch of his arm against her leg. Warm and alive and breathing and here and kissing her with a reciprocal hunger that had her shaking.
Eventually she came up for air, and she wasnât sure if he was also breathless because of the kiss or the pain in his hand or from his own dehydration. She pursed her lips and straightened. As she turned to pick up the water bottle, which had fallen to the side, she saw Michonne eying them from the cave. The relief and amusement on her face was evident, and she gave Carol a quiet thumb up gesture.
Carol wiped at her eyes with a smile at the woman and turned back around only to see that she and Daryl had had an audience comprising not only of Michonne, but of Glenn, Carl, and Tara as well. Daryl caught her staring and followed her gaze to them. Glenn also offered a cheeky thumb up with his own tired smile. Daryl smirked and sent back a raised middle finger, which stuck out of the blob of white gauze in a darkly comical way. Carol snorted and grasped his wrist to make him stop, guiding his hand back down to its resting place.
The others soon settled themselves in again, and Carol situated herself to lie down beside Daryl now instead of sitting by him. Gently, and mindful of his hand, she lay as close to him as physically possible without being on top of him. She even let her head stray to rest on his shoulder. He did nothing to stop her, and they both breathed a little easier at the contact.
He had questions; she knew he did. It would take hours to answer them all, and he was already fading again. That was okay. Sleep was good. Sleep was healing. She could feel her own body finally letting her shut down, and she got more comfortable beside him. For the first time in weeks, she thought that sleep would be restful this time, that it would be okay.
Daryl fell asleep before she did, but Carol was quick to follow, the even rise and fall of his breathing lulling her to rest.
