I've been a bit absent here on Tumblr but lately I've been coming back to my internet activity. I started a new blog —where I talk about books, series and films in a fancy way. It's Lluvia y tinta on Wordpress.
I share this with you just in case you want to know what I'm up to! You can also find me in Twitter (same @ that here) or Goodreads (ask me privately!). I mostly speak Spanish in that social media, sorry.
I don't know if I'll come back to do edits. If I do, it will be something completely sporadic. I was growing tired of seeing my work reposted without my permission.
Yeah... it’s one of those weird pairs for me where, in theory, it hits all my I SHIP IT buttons, but for some reason I just... don’t. Shipping’s a funny old business!
Title: The Gift of Giving
Author: Sira
Rating: T
Summary: Daryl has a gift for Carol.
A/N: I’m sorry that I suck at summaries and I hope you’ll like this little fic. Merry Christmas (in case you celebrate it) and a Happy 2017.
The house in the distance is dark, the only light coming from stars that have never shone so bright before the world went to hell. There’s not a single sign of life and if he didn’t know better, he’d think it was abandoned. It isn’t though, and he knows that somewhere inside these walls is his destination, the woman he needs to see.
It’s not been long since Carol came back to Alexandria with Ezekiel and other people from the kingdom in tow for the common purpose to defeat Negan. Seeing her gave him strength, had lifted his spirits for only the second time since the fateful night two of his friends have lost their life, the first time being when he’d gone to find her, to talk to her, hell, to simply set his eyes on her to see for himself she was alright. As alright as she could be anyway. That day Carol seemed as overwhelmed and happy by their reunion as he was, and yet, at the end of the day she was unwilling to leave this house behind, to come back with him.
It was the same after their defeat of Negan, and he didn’t press her. He never would. Above anything else he wants her to be well and if being away from her family is what she needs, he’ll give her all the time and space in the world.
Only that he’s got a gift to deliver tonight and nothing will stop him from doing so. It’s ridiculous, he knows, but its Christmas, or at least Eugene says it is, and Carol and he have their own kind of tradition when it comes to this particular day.
Stopping at the gate in front of her house, he wonders how to go about it. He knows the gate creaks and he really doesn’t want to alert her to his presence, although if she thinks something, someone is crawling around outside her house, she might shoot first and ask questions later.
Caught in indecision, he can’t help to think that he’s proud of her. The quiet, helpless woman from the quarry is gone and if he’d trust anybody to live in a house all alone and survive it’s her. This house might be bordering the kingdom but it’s separate. She’s on her own out her, just as she wants to be. She wants this, it’s her decision and he’ll have her back, no matter his own feelings.
He knows that if a herd of walkers were to pass by or if a group of outlaws like Joe and those filthy bastards find this outpost, Carol would not stand a chance, though, and it’s a thought he refuses to entertain. He’s lost it all by now; his brother, his dignity, his self-worth, meagre as it was to begin with, but he hasn’t lost Carol. Should he lose her, too, he doesn’t think he’d even bother to continue this life. What for?
In the end it’s Carol who’s making the decision for him, the door to her house opening and there she is, carrying an oil lamp.
“How long do you want to stand out there?” she asks and he can’t be sure, but he thinks she’s smiling that closed lip smile he came to associate with her.
He wants to answer, and yet, he’s lacking the words. There are too many of them and he fears that once he starts he might not be able to stop himself babbling like an idiot. Opening the rusty gate, he steps inside and she doesn’t wait for him, just turns, leaving the door wide open for him.
He still could just deliver his gift and leave, knows he won’t. Not this time. He’s turned his back on her too often since they arrived in Alexandria, was too busy with his own problems to be there for her. Oh, she always told him she was okay, but he knew she wasn’t. He knew better, even if it hasn’t changed a thing.
All the regret in the world was worth nothing, so he shoved it aside, closing the gate carefully before following her inside the house. It’s cold inside and he wonders if he woke her up. No, she wouldn’t have known he was there if she was asleep. Most likely she’s been sitting inside, alone with her thoughts.
He finds her in front of her fireplace, starting a fire. When the first flames make the small stack of wood crack, she stands up and looks at him. Her face, for once, is unreadable to him even though her voice is light when she speaks.
“If I’d known to expect you, I’d have started a fire long ago.”
It’s another opportunity for him to explain himself, and again he fails. She waits patiently, and something about the way the still small fire lights her from behind, about the way her too thin body is clad in clothes at least a size to big, tugs at his heart. He moves before he has a chance to stop himself. Since the first time he held her in his arms, he’s gotten addicted to the feeling of her body against his.
She cold and dammit, he’ll make sure she’ll be warm again in no time. For a second her body remains tense against his but then she relaxes with a soft sight, her arms going around his back, holding him tight against her.
Nothing in this fucked up life has ever felt right to him, holding Carol like this, does. Sappy as it might be, he’d be content to stay like this forever, even though he knows he can’t, still, he holds on, enjoying the feel of her, the scent that is so uniquely Carol he felt he could trace it among a thousand different ones.
“Daryl, what are you doing here?” she finally asks, although she doesn’t move to break their embrace.
Maybe he’s not the only one who needs the proximity.
“It’s Christmas,” he finally mumbles as if this explains it all.
“I see,” she says and although he knows this is not like the other years, she understands him anyway.
Reluctantly, he lets go of her, although he only manages to separate them a few inches, his hands flat out refusing letting go of their hold on her waist. Their eyes meet and for once he doesn’t even want to break eye contact. Being able to be with her and see her is too precious to waste a single second.
“Wanna see?”
She nods and he let’s go of her with one hand to fish the little package out of the back pockets of his pants.
The first time he’s given her a gift or what might count as one was the winter after the farm. They were travelling the roads for weeks, with no clear destination in sight, their only goal to survive for just another night. They all were hungry, exhausted to their very bones and winter knew no mercy with temperatures falling steadily. Throughout the days they barely hit the 50 any longer, dropping down to the low 30s or even 20s at night. They weren’t equipped for any of this and it was a wonder that none of them had succumbed to the circumstances yet.
It was sheer coincidence that Glenn mentioned he thought it was Christmas Eve the same day Daryl and he were about to raid a drugstore that seemed to have been left undisturbed so far. Daryl hadn’t cared for the info. Christmas had never been for him. There hadn’t been any kind of Christmas to speak of when he was a child and as an adult… No, he didn’t care.
Though then Glenn had looked around for something to give to Maggie. Stupid man.
Daryl knew he still shouldn’t care, only that he couldn’t stop thinking of Carol all of sudden. He didn’t want to, was annoyed by the mere fact he could see her face in front of his inner eye right fucking then.
Carol…
Who would have thought she would survive where so many others hadn’t? Not only that, while she was getting thinner and more fragile like the rest of them, her spirit was rising. She wasn’t quitting on life, quite the contrary, was suddenly eager to learn all the skills she needed to survive.
She wanted to know how to shoot, how to lay a trap, how to treat superficial wounds.
And despite everything that has happened, she still looked at him as if he was worth something.
Hearing Glenn whoop when he found a sweatshirt he thought Maggie would like, he shook himself out of these thoughts. This was stupid and if they fetched clothes they better bring some for everybody. What was Glenn thinking?
It was then he sported one of those granola bars he knew Carol liked. One day when they had talked about the very few things they actually missed from their previous life she had mentioned them and now… well, it seemed like a fucking sign.
He knew it was wrong and still, he grabbed it. It wasn’t as if anybody else cared about Carol. Rick’s focus was on Carl and Lori, Herschel had his daughters in mind and Glenn was besotted with Maggie. So if he didn’t think of Carol, who would?
That night when they all huddled into corners of the shack they had chosen as place to stay for the night, he put it onto the sweater she used as a pillow when she wasn’t looking for a second.
It wasn’t a minute later, he felt her hand on his arm.
“What’s this?”
He feigned ignorance, told her he had no idea and to fucking eat this thing instead of using her mouth to chew his ear off. But she looked at him in a way that made it clear she knew he was full of bullshit and the expression on her face grew thoughtful when she heard Glenn whispering ‘Merry Christmas’ to Maggie when he handed her the sweater he’d grabbed earlier right this second.
Thankfully she didn’t comment on it, just ate her granola bar, throwing him a thankful glance when she was finished.
It should’ve been all there was to it, only the next morning when he woke up later, he found somebody had been at the satchel he used to store his meagre belongings in. He was about to erupt in anger when something caught his eyes. The pants with the holes in the knees were folded neatly on top of his clothes and when he got them out they were patched up. They hadn’t been the night before.
Turning around to look for Carol, he met her gaze briefly before she turned but he’d seen it, the smile that was almost too small to be called a smile and the worried expression in her eyes hoping he wouldn’t throw a fit but see it as the gift it was mean to be.
It wasn’t a gift, really, and it was still the best he’d ever received.
He, too, didn’t say a thing but when he passed her later this morning, he made sure he kept her gaze, nodded slightly.
Now he watches how she stares at the little package in her hand, not moving, her downcast eyes not giving away what she’s feeling.
“Don’t wanna open it?”
She looks up, bites down her bottom lip, releasing it with a sigh.
“I do.”
“But?”
She opens her mouth as if to speak, but then she leaves the room with the package still in her hands.
“Just a moment,” she calls out, and although he tells himself not to panic, it’s hard not to. What if she doesn’t want him around? What if this is too much even though it’s just a token and he doesn’t expect anything from her? What if she’s too broken to fully connect with him again? What if he is?
His breath is coming faster now, and he can’t help but think this was a bad idea. He closes his eyes at the sudden onslaught of nausea. Not having heard her reenter the room, he startles when he feels her hand on his shoulder.
She mumbles an apology and it makes him want to scream and to cry all at once. It’s not her fault that his daddy was an asshole, that Negan and the saviors cut through all of his defenses, leaving him naked in more sense than one.
Looking at him, she stands right in front of him, holding out a small wrapped item to him.
“What this?”
She rolls her eyes, and it’s this gesture that stops his stomach churning. This is Carol, his best friend, the only woman that ever truly mattered to him.
“Well, maybe if you open it, you’ll see.”
Giving and receiving gifts, it’s their tradition even though they never told anybody about it, even if it was never something official, just something it seemed they couldn’t stop doing.
They had celebrated their second Christmas at the prison, although there hadn’t been much of a celebration to speak off. Judith was only a few months old, Carl couldn’t care less for it and the rest of them… there was no reason to celebrate, no justification to go through the trouble of preparing any kind of celebration. Nobody could even be sure it was Christmas.
All he knew was it was cold enough that they had to plan a run to get their hands on a few extra blankets. Living in prison in winter was how he imagined moving into a fridge would be but at least the walls were solid and they were protected from the weather and the undead. It was luxury in a world that knew no mercy.
It was during Maggie’s and his run for blankets when he decided it could be around Christmas. Hell, which could prove him differently? He didn’t even know why he had to think of Christmas, of Carol’s smile when she had that granola bar.
Carol was a lot on his mind lately and he wished he could make things better for her, give her better blankets, provide better food, hell, lead her to somewhere they could leave this nightmare of a life behind. Stupid thoughts and no matter what some people might think, he wasn’t a stupid man.
Concentrating on what he came here for, he filed these thoughts away for later.
Back at the prison, Carol and Rick were expecting them at the gates and the way her face lit up when she spotted him made his throat constrict so he greeted her with barely a nod. It was enough for her, and she trailed after them into the prison.
It was later that night, when the rest of the others had gone to bed that he knew what he wanted to do. He took up a small piece of wood, went to the guard tower as it was his turn to watch out for them and began to carve in the dim light of the oil lamp. It took him a long time and he was surprised when Rick appeared to take over from him. The other man looked at the item in his hand but Daryl refused to even think of an explanation.
Back in the prison, he peered behind the curtain into Carol’s cell and found her asleep, even though she was tossing and turning. Not wanting to be seen, he placed the small wooden angel on her table before leaving to his perch to get a few hours of sleep before people would begin to stir.
Carol didn’t comment on the angel, didn’t even give any indication that she knew he had given her something but when he came in that afternoon, there was a sleeveless shirt on his bedroll that hadn’t been there before. It was from Carol, no question about it and it made him smile which in turn made him glad nobody could see him like this.
He just knew she had planned this, had waited for the right moment to give it to him. He was sure she’d have given it to him if he gave her a gift or not but…it fit.
They fit, for whatever reason.
Anyway, He couldn’t go to her, talk to her about it, what this all meant. Some things were better left undisturbed and this was one of them.
Now, he looks at the small gift in his hand, wondering what could be in there. Doesn’t she know he doesn’t need a gift, that the fact she’s alive and with him is the only gift he could ever need?
Wouldn’t she say the same about him? He ignored the small voice inside of his head.
“You first,” he says.
She shakes her head. “Not this time.”
He snorts. “It’s tradition.”
She opens her mouth but he never gets to hear whatever witty reply she’s cooked up. Instead she looked at him once more before slowly unwrapping his gift. He fidgets from one foot to the other, the urge to turn and leave her to it almost too strong to ignore.
What if she doesn’t like it?
His life always was a series of one rejection after the other until he simply stopped trying. He doesn’t want to go back there now, to this feeling of being worth nothing but disdain. Fuck, this is Carol. She would never reject him. Never.
She takes her time but then the paper is off. His thinks he can hear his own heart beating and his chest constricts while he waits for her to react. His hands feel clammy, one of them going up to his mouth and he starts chewing his cuticle before he’s even aware of doing it.
She stares at his gift for so long he’s starting to feel uncomfortable. Maybe he shouldn’t have done it? Maybe she doesn’t want it. And there’s still Tobin…, somehow…, at least the man’s still alive. Has he overstepped any boundaries? How would he know? He’s no fuckin’ relationship expert.
When she looks up at him, there are tears in her eyes and she blinks them back.
“I love it, thank you,” she says, looking back down at the small picture of him.
He hates taking his picture, more than he can say but when he talked to Aaron a few weeks ago, the other man mentioned his camera and he still had an unused film…
He knows Maggie had a picture of Glenn, that she destroyed it, thinking she didn’t need it. Maggie will regret that for the rest of her life. Now he has no idea why anybody would want a picture of him but it seemed the right gift for Carol, even if it was kinda prompted by Aaron.
“How? Why?” she asks, her voice rough, laced with emotions he can’t decipher.
“Aaron has a camera. He offered to take my picture.”
“I’ll make sure to thank him for it. Now… will you open mine?”
The third time they exchanged gifts it was in Alexandria. Since Eugene joined the group he liked to inform them which weekday it was, which date and if there were any common or obscure festivities that used to fall onto this special day.
Thanks to him, Daryl knew when it was a mere three days till Christmas. He knew he wanted to give Carol something once more, but he didn’t have the least idea what it could be.
Most of the shit he’d considered worthy a gift before the end of the world were things you couldn’t get your hands on nowadays and when it came of the small luxuries they all cherished before Alexandria, well, they had hot water, real food and comfortable beds to sleep now.
So what the hell could he get Carol that she might want or need? Never mind, Carol wasn’t the same person since they entered this absurd little place that successfully pretended things were still normal for over two years now. Carol had donned a mask and it was such a tight fit he had trouble to recognize the woman he used to know.
No, he didn’t have any idea so he postponed a decision until it was Christmas Eve and he was none the wiser. He would fail this year and no matter what, he knew Carol would notice, would wonder what it meant that he hadn’t given her something this year. The rift between them would deepen. He hated it and he considered talking to her, be honest about it.
Yeah, who was he kidding.
Meeting Eugene and Tara on the street who were on their way to the small celebration Deanna had deemed was in order, he listened with half an ear to one of Eugene’s story about his grandmother and some favorite recipe of hers. Did this man never shut up. Only… And idea hit him and without bothering to address them he turned his back and was gone. He had to find Olivia. She had something he needed and although he knew she would resist him, he also knew he would get his way. It was one of the few advantages to be deemed intimidating.
It was an hour later when he slipped into Carol’s room where he placed the package on her bed, making his way out as quickly as possible. This was her space, he wasn’t invited.
He knew Carol was still at this party, all fake-smiles and he considered joining his friends but decided against it. This wasn’t like him. He didn’t need this.
Back at his own room, he took up a book, his eyes ghosting over words his mind refused to comprehend. He didn’t like the Suzy Homemaker appearance Carol showed the world here but he knew baking was something she did when she was tense, needed to think.
And what she did with the wild arrange of supplies to be found here was nothing short of amazing. So maybe, just maybe she’d like a notebook to write down her recipes. Well, it was too late to change a thing now anyway.
It was almost morning when he finally fell asleep, almost noon when he woke up. What the fuck? Sitting up, something slid of his stomach. Carol. It could only have been her. No one else could have slipped in without him noticing. And to think she placed whatever it was right on his stomach.
Rubbing his tired eyes, he grabbed the small item, studied it carefully. It was an angel wings key chain. He smiled, shook his head, wondered where in hell Carol would have found them.
If he were a different man he’d go find her and thank her and maybe they could patch the rift between them.
As they were used to they didn’t speak about the gifts exchanged, though, but they shared a long look and for the first time in what seemed months he was seeing the real Carol, the one who was weary after all they had been through, the one that seemed to be hidden underneath a veil of sadness. She smiled at him and although it wasn’t a happy smile, it was a real one and an even better gift than the one she had given him.
It is the fourth time he is about to look at a gift from hers, the first time he’ll do so in her presence. He takes a quick look at her before unwrapping the oddly formed little thing, having no idea what to expect. He’s surprised she’s having something for him in the first place. She couldn’t have known he’d come to find her, or did she? Of course she did. She always knows him better than he knows himself.
He sees her fidget and it’s such an unusual thing for her, he stops right before her gift would’ve been revealed. What is she nervous about?
He wants to tell her that its fine, that he’ll love whatever this is because it comes from her. Fuck, what does she see in him anyway? She deserves a man who isn’t shy about letting her know what he’s thinking. Tobin wouldn’t hesitate to let her know if he has something to say. Fuck, Tobin. He’s not angry that she’d been with Tobin. Even if he weren’t emotionally stunted he wouldn’t have been available. Back then he had retreated from everybody, but damn him, he won’t let this happen again.
Angry with himself, with Tobin, with life in general he all but tears the paper away from its content.
As the picture of him seems to have shocked Carol, this… it’s shocking him. He looks at Carol, lost for words, his heart clenching so hard he has trouble forcing in any air.
Sophia’s headband, the one Carol used to wear around her wrist. It’s the last thing she has from her daughter and here she’s offering it to him.
“Why?” he asks, his voice almost breaking over this single word.
Carol’s eyes tear up again but as before she doesn’t cry. She shrugs, shakes her head all at once and she has to clear her throat before any words make it past her lips.
“Nobody meant more to me than Sophia. Nobody will ever mean more to me. Just, I can’t cling to the past. And I… you know, I didn’t want to love again.”
She holds his gaze and he can’t help but admire her strength. She’s pulling through this, no matter that this confession will cost her.
“I didn’t… didn’t want to love and be forced to choose if to kill or not. But… it didn’t work. It doesn’t. I don’t want to kill again but I can’t…. I can’t stop loving… I….,”
She takes a deep breath, her arms crossing over her chest as if trying to protect herself.
“I can’t stop loving you.”
She raises her chin, waiting for him to say whatever he has to say but right this moment his mind is blank.
It’s what he’s been wanting to hear for years even if he never admitted it to himself and now that she uttered the very words, he feels helpless.
The only people ever to tell him that he was loved where his mother and his brother. No woman has ever claimed to love him, and if he’s honest with himself, he never loved anybody that hasn’t been family. He loves Carol, accepted it as for a fact for a long time. It’s something he just knows and he thinks Carol knows it, too.
Only if he needed to hear it, she needs to hear it, too.
“I…,” he starts, not sure if he can say the words as much as he wants to.
He doesn’t need to.
She bridges the short distance between them, her lips finding his before he has the time to comprehend what is happening.
It feels good, right and out of all the wonderful gifts she’s given him in four years, this is the truly perfect one.
Her lips are warm, slightly chapped and when she wants to pull away, he follows her, unwilling to let go of the onslaught of feelings that leave him light-headed and if he can’t tell her how he feels, well, maybe he can show her.
