Her shoulder is so tense it may as well be solid rock. His hand there is felt though, and appreciated maybe more than he'll know. Carol reaches up intending on a pat, but once their hands are touching she finds hers clinging to his.
Nothing would feel better right now than to turn around and bury her face in his shoulder. She would, if she was certain he'd respond the way she wanted, an embrace she direly needs. As things sit it might just be setting herself up for more things to be sorry about.
Truth is they've got enough history to buy her that much, easy. He doesn't pull his hand away, and maybe there's a light pressure there, like he'd like to pull her in for just that, but maybe she's too stiff to notice. He's thinking back on when they found (and lost for good) her little girl, how he'd had to hold onto her while she fell apart. She'd fought for a while trying to get to what used to be Sophia, like she wanted to lose herself along with the rest of her world, and he'd kept her with them.
He'll keep her with them now, if he can; it's different, but it's a duty he'll willingly shoulder. Whether it's the right choice for all of them... Well. It's the right choice to try, that's all he can be sure of.
Daryl's compassionate act was likely aimed at dissolving some tension; in Carol's mind she can only feel it rising. Telling him her secret wasn't her choice, his being here now wasn't her choice. Sooner or later she'll have to make a one: slip away, or let him in. Guard herself, or chance rejection. Move beyond his reach, or turn into it.
Back home there would be much to complicate it. Rick's decision to put her out and the rest of the group's feelings about allowing her back, the not insignificant fact that being alone is hardly ideal for survival. But in this place it's somehow all the more complicated because there's no life-or-death stake, at least not as immediately. Nothing except whether Carol is willing to take that step, to want it enough. Neither direction feels comfortable, but she must choose one. Move or turn?
He's a good man, he would probably accept her even if he wasn't certain; but if she shows him the door maybe he wouldn't be certain enough to knock. Maybe next time she wouldn't answer. She could go off, find a corner of this place and make it her own, shielded from judgment. Rick said she can survive on her own, and here she most assuredly could. Does she want to? Would being alone hurt more, would it change nothing? Her grip on his hand loosens.
This is impossible. Unfair. No way anyone could be prepared for their world and what it made people do. For a long second Carol just lets herself be unspeakably angry at the wretchedness of it all.
-- And then she shrugs off his touch, and turns to rest her forehead on his shoulder.
It isn't until that moment, when she finally takes that step to lean against him, that Daryl realizes he's terrified she won't. It's not about what she's done or what she might do to the group, the others. He just can't lose her like this. He's lost her already, and brought her back, and he's under no illusions about the likelihood of their survival, back home. Someday she's going to run out of luck, or he is, and that will be that. But here-- here if that's the choice she makes, if she walks away, if she leaves--
He wraps an arm around her shoulders, tight, halfway to cover the fact that he's suddenly wound like a spring, almost wired enough to tremble. When he forgives her-- and he will, tacitly, in time, as best as he can-- this will be so much of it, this moment, these choices. He's not letting her go. He's not.
Carol can feel him tense and somehow that makes hers ease, because for Daryl it's not just duty, he cares enough that he was scared. Even though she was too, still is, it's always easier to comfort someone else than allow herself to be comforted. If keeping her close in whatever sense will help him, she can do that, when maybe she couldn't if it were for her own reasons.
She returns the embrace with both arms, just as tightly.
"I'll be all right," she says, echoing his words. She can't say how, but she doesn't need to right now. Just the words are enough.
Maybe it's selfish of him to want her to stay, when she's not certain, when there's so much against it, but right now Daryl honestly does not give a flying fuck. If it helps, if it gives her a reason not to give up on herself, then he'll gladly be selfish for once. Done. There's more than one way to be an anchor. Back on the farm, she'd told him she wouldn't let him leave, and he'd stayed for her; maybe this isn't too much to ask. She's earned her place, too, as far as he cares. He needs her.
He doesn't trust himself to answer, so he nods, figuring she'll be able to feel the motion at least. How doesn't matter. They're going to make it work. That decision, it's enough. They will.
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what_wings_dare2014-02-14 08:31 pm
no subject
Nothing would feel better right now than to turn around and bury her face in his shoulder. She would, if she was certain he'd respond the way she wanted, an embrace she direly needs. As things sit it might just be setting herself up for more things to be sorry about.
no subject
He'll keep her with them now, if he can; it's different, but it's a duty he'll willingly shoulder. Whether it's the right choice for all of them... Well. It's the right choice to try, that's all he can be sure of.
It's who they are. It's what they do.
no subject
Back home there would be much to complicate it. Rick's decision to put her out and the rest of the group's feelings about allowing her back, the not insignificant fact that being alone is hardly ideal for survival. But in this place it's somehow all the more complicated because there's no life-or-death stake, at least not as immediately. Nothing except whether Carol is willing to take that step, to want it enough. Neither direction feels comfortable, but she must choose one. Move or turn?
He's a good man, he would probably accept her even if he wasn't certain; but if she shows him the door maybe he wouldn't be certain enough to knock. Maybe next time she wouldn't answer. She could go off, find a corner of this place and make it her own, shielded from judgment. Rick said she can survive on her own, and here she most assuredly could. Does she want to? Would being alone hurt more, would it change nothing? Her grip on his hand loosens.
This is impossible. Unfair. No way anyone could be prepared for their world and what it made people do. For a long second Carol just lets herself be unspeakably angry at the wretchedness of it all.
-- And then she shrugs off his touch, and turns to rest her forehead on his shoulder.
no subject
He wraps an arm around her shoulders, tight, halfway to cover the fact that he's suddenly wound like a spring, almost wired enough to tremble. When he forgives her-- and he will, tacitly, in time, as best as he can-- this will be so much of it, this moment, these choices. He's not letting her go. He's not.
no subject
She returns the embrace with both arms, just as tightly.
"I'll be all right," she says, echoing his words. She can't say how, but she doesn't need to right now. Just the words are enough.
no subject
He doesn't trust himself to answer, so he nods, figuring she'll be able to feel the motion at least. How doesn't matter. They're going to make it work. That decision, it's enough. They will.