Written For: @lovesdaryl
Title: The Best Dream Author: spanishrose2002 (ramblinrose/theramblinrose) Rating: T Summary: Life has been a nightmare at times, so Daryl never takes for granted the moments where his dreams come true. A/N: Merry Christmas! I hope you enjoy!
The sadness was profound. It flowed through his veins like it had replaced his blood entirely. It was something entirely different than any grief he’d ever known before—and Daryl had known his share of grief.
The moment that he’d known she was gone, it had been like a tidal wave crashing over him. His brain had felt unable to process it—unable to believe it. There must have been some kind of punchline to the whole thing—a sick joke gone wrong. That’s what he’d believed, even though something inside of him had known that Rick was telling the truth.
He hadn’t had time to truly process any of it. He hadn’t had time to mourn. He hadn’t had time to think about what he might do, or how he might remedy the whole situation.
Hell had broken loose, fast and hard, and it had slammed all of them with one loss after another.
He had almost felt like he’d sobered up, some time later, when he began to truly start to understand what had happened, and he began to think about the repercussions of all of it. It had been like an awakening, except he’d woken to find that he was in a nightmare, plain and simple. He’d felt lost, consumed by a sucking pain inside his chest, forever with an ache at his throat that threatened to disarm him entirely.
He’d focused on saving Beth, because he couldn’t stand more loss. He’d focused on saving Beth because, once, there had been a little girl that he couldn’t save. Maybe, this time, he could beat the odds. Maybe, somehow, it would make up for what he hadn’t been able to do before.
And, in the back of his mind, something made him believe that, if he could save this little girl, it might somehow bring Carol back to him. It might, somehow, make him worthy of such a miracle.
He had to believe, after all, that she was still out there. He had to believe that she was fine. She was making it. She was tough. She was a survivor. If anyone could go it alone, it was Carol.
He had to believe that, eventually—somehow and some way, even if he couldn’t begin to imagine how that might happen—he would find her, or she would find him.
And, somehow, she found him.
Somehow, he had done something so right that he’d been worthy of the thing he wanted—needed—most in an otherwise cruel world.
In that moment, he saw her. He noticed her and did a double-take, convinced that his mind was playing tricks on him. He’d seen her so many times since he’d lost her—in Walkers, in glances over his shoulder, out the corner of his eye…and, especially, he had seen her while he slept. Too many times, he’d believed that she would be there, only to wake and find that he was every bit as without her as he had been when he’d closed his eyes.
It had taken him a long moment to believe that what he saw was really, truly Carol. As soon as he was certain that it was her, though, he had run straight for her.
Daryl could feel her body making contact with his all the way down. He felt the solidity of her—the confirmation that this was real. She was physically there, and she was wrapped in his arms. He smelled her—the smell of her sweat, even, seemed like the sweetest perfume that he could imagine. He had memorized her scents—all of them. He knew the flavors of her. He closed his eyes and pulled her somehow closer to him—as close as the laws of nature would allow—and he nuzzled his face against her, pleased to feel her skin against his face as the smell of her filled his nostrils. He squeezed her tightly, determined that she would never slip away from him again.
She smelled pleasant—clean. He could smell the scent of her body and a crisp cleanness like when she emerged fresh from a bath. She smelled so much cleaner than what he had expected, given her appearance there in the woods.
Daryl stirred, confused, and the woods began to change around him. Darkness began to fall—a darkness that he hadn’t expected. It wasn’t time for darkness, and the dusk never came and faded so fast.
“Pookie…”
“Yeah…” He said, as the darkness broke and a different sort of darkness took its place—a darkness with a soft light mixed carefully into it. He squinted.
She smiled at him.
His heart responded to that smile. God, he loved her. He loved her more than he’d once imagined it was possible to love anyone. And he loved that smile.
“Hey,” she said, softly. He felt her scratching her fingers lightly through the hair at his temples.
“Hey yourself,” he said, teasing her. She understood. She laughed. It sounded like music and it disrupted his pulse in the best way. “Shit…I was…”
“Dreaming,” she said.
She shifted, lifting a little onto her elbow. Daryl became aware that he’d been holding her tightly. He let go enough to give her breathing room, and a bit of room in which to move about, but he kept a hand resting on her waist. She didn’t try to deter him in any way.
“Still fuckin’ dreamin’,” he said. “Hope I never fuckin’ wake up. It’s my favorite one.”
“And which one is that?” Carol asked.
“The one where—you’re in love with me, and I’m in love with you, and we do this shit for the rest of our damn lives. Whatever the hell time we got left.”
Carol laughed quietly. She brushed her cool fingers across his face, before she leaned and kissed him. He tasted her lips and hungrily took every bit of the kiss that she saw fit to let him have. He returned it just as enthusiastically as he could, and it didn’t take long before she’d moved closer to him so that she might let their bodies enjoy the same proximity as their lips.
“That’s no dream, Pookie,” Carol offered, as soon as the kiss broke. She was breathing a bit more raggedly than she had been before, but so was Daryl. He knew that she could feel his body’s response to her. He knew, too, that she had to know that it was more than just the natural reaction to the morning—this was for her…because of her.
She moved just slightly away from him and glanced between them, before she looked back at him and smiled softly. She hummed and held his eyes.
“After breakfast?” She asked. “Can it wait?”
“For you? It’ll wait. It’ll come back. Same difference.”
“I’ll make it worthwhile,” Carol said, winking at him as she sat up. “Promise.”
“You always do, Woman,” he said. He reached for her as she was leaving the bed, but his fingertips only brushed against her back, touching the soft cotton of her nightgown, before she stood up.
“The fire’s almost out,” Carol said.
“I got it,” Daryl said, starting to rise, himself.
“I can put wood on the fire, you know,” Carol said.
“No, you can’t,” Daryl said. “I already said that I don’t want you messin’ with it. I don’t want you even touchin’ it.”
“Because the wood is so heavy?” She asked, laughing to herself. She heaved the water bucket up and onto the counter, as though that was her personal response to her own question.
“Jesus, Woman!” Daryl spat. “I thought I told you not to do that shit, either.” He rushed over and picked up the little pitcher from the counter area. “Put the pitcher in the bucket for the water, Carol. Don’t try to pick the whole thing up! My whole damn heart just stopped. Are you tryin’ to kill me?”
She laughed and turned to face him.
“It’s barely half-full, Daryl, and I’ve carried a lot of heavier things in my life.”
He caught her face in his hands. She flinched, slightly, and closed her eyes. It was instinct—a residual reaction left over from the asshole that hadn’t know what he’d had—hadn’t valued her. Daryl didn’t hold the instinct against her anymore than she held the occasional flinch against him when she ran her hands over his back and kissed his scars.
He placed a soft kiss on her lips when he was certain that she wasn’t going to respond negatively, thanks to some horrible memory from her past.
“You carried a lot of heavy shit in your life,” Daryl agreed, his voice low. He pressed his forehead against hers, and she laughed quietly, letting them rest together like that. “But this? This is the heaviest thing I want you carrying right now. The heaviest thing—the most important thing. The only thing that—only you can carry, OK? Let me handle the rest.”
He dropped his hands and let them rest, now, on either side of her belly. It was growing. In fact, it had grown a good bit since they’d first set out on their own. Back then, it had been practically invisible. The little one between them had been a whispered promise to both of them for a future that was like something they had barely dared to even imagine.
Carol would never rest again—truly rest—in Rick’s presence. Daryl wouldn’t either. She would always fear that something she did, even with the best of intentions, might land her with something like a death sentence. Daryl would always remember what it felt like to have her snatched away from him and to have Rick there, trying to explain to him why he ought to find that absolutely acceptable. He would never truly feel comfortable letting her out of his sight for fear that he might never see her again.
The only choice for either of them had been to set out, together, and try to find a life that suited them both.
And boy had they found it.
The cabin was small and rustic, but well-built. They’d chosen it for that reason. They had no reason to believe that there might be another baby born to them after this one—if this one made it, and they were doing everything they possibly could to ensure that it did—but they’d chosen a cabin with a large open room and with one extra room for a little additional space, if there came a need for privacy.
For now, they didn’t need privacy. They had their bed right there, close to where they made their meals, ate them, and spent whatever time they had around the chores that must be done daily.
The cold of the year was settling in well now, and Daryl had chopped wood and stored it in places already provided for him, so that it would be dry for the winter. He’d hunted and smoked the meat in the smokehouse that had probably been in use for hundreds of years and still fulfilled its purpose. They were stocking up supplies, and the pump at the nearby well worked just as it ought to, so they had the water they needed practically at hand.
This was their little slice of paradise.
Daryl was putting up fences every day, and soon the house would be fully protected. When the spring came, they would see about a garden. Carol would can food to make sure that they were well-prepared for next winter.
They would have a life—the kind that nobody could take from either of them. Never again.
“The bucket’s only about three-quarters full,” Carol said. “The pitcher would have been just as heavy.”
“Please—please, Carol. I ain’t tellin’ you what to do. Not like him. But—I’m askin’ you.” He kissed her face. He kissed her cheek. “You told me…I’m a man…”
“The best man…” Carol said.
“Then, let me be the kind of man who takes care of his family,” Daryl said. “Can you just—let me be that?”
She smiled at him.
“I’ve never known you to be any other kind of man,” she said. “And that’s the truth. But—I won’t touch the bucket again. I promise. And—I won’t touch any wood.”
She immediately made a face, and he raised an eyebrow at her in question.
“What?” He asked. She laughed before she ever spoke—that musical laughter that made his heart beat out of rhythm in the best kind of fluttery way.
“I won’t touch any wood that you don’t have for me, specifically, Pookie,” she teased. She winked at him and grinned.
Daryl immediately felt his face flood with warmth.
“Stop!” Daryl said. She snorted, trying to make herself stop laughing. Daryl couldn’t help but laugh in response. “OK—don’t stop, but…just for that, I’ma teach you a thing or two about wood just as soon as we finish up eatin’ some biscuits and venison.”
“I can’t wait for my lesson,” she teased. She gave him a soft kiss and loosely hugged him, taking a moment to simply stand there and touch him in the easy sort of way that she had, now that she was really his in every way possible. “What was your dream about, Daryl?”
“Hmmm?” He asked.
“When you were—well, just before I woke you up. You were having a pretty intense dream. What was it about?”
He smiled at her.
“Just you,” he said.
“What about me?”
“Just—about the moment before you made me the happiest fucking man on Earth.”
“That’s some dream,” Carol said.
“The best fucking dream,” Daryl agreed.
“What happened in this amazing dream?”
“Nothing,” Daryl said. “I held you in my arms.”
“That doesn’t sound too exciting,” Carol said.
“That’s where the hell you’re wrong, Woman. It’s my favorite fucking thing to do. And I hope I spend the rest of my life doing it.”
