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carylnetwork · 22 days

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I over analysed the new TBOC Teaser and Sneak Peek

There's so much to cover here, and I'm so happy right now because of all the content we've gotten today! I'm going to focus the analysis on the new things we see in the teaser and trailer since many of the things shown today have already been discussed on here many times.

So please grab yourself a cup of tea or your morning coffee and bear with me through this post. It might be a little long, but I'd love to hear your takes on my timeline theory at the end. ♡

The Teaser

I'm starting with the teaser because that's what I got to see first.

Firstly, we see in the below photo that Daryl has finally gotten himself some arrows, which means we're finally going to see him with a bow (excluding that one time he used a crossbow in twd:dd 01x02). These definitely don't look like crossbow bolts, which implies that this shot is pre-reunion.

I also want to break down the dialog here:

Isabell: Tell me a story Daryl: There was this guy, he left home looking for something, and he couldn't get back.

I'm focusing on the part where he said "he couldn't get back" because he didn't say "he didn't go back" or "he didn't want to go back"; he said he couldn't; he's not there by choice.

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Secondly, we have this shot of Carol and her crew on a mountaintop. What stands out here is that it's not just her (on the right) and Ash (on the left); there are two other people there with them (middle).

Making notes of who these people are, here's a breakdown of what we can see about them.

There are two people.

First one: seems shorter with longer brown/black hair and wearing a beige coat.

Second one: seems taller, shorter auburn hair and wearing a black coat with a faux fur collar.

Unlike Carol and Ash, neither of them is visibly holding a weapon.

Also unlike Carol and Ash, they both seem to have bags/supplies.

They must trust each other at this moment because Carol and Ash don't seem to have their weapons drawn or their guards up.

The last three points make me think that the two in the middle might be locals from wherever they've landed in France and are helping them find their way. Additionally, to the local's guess, there's no way that the plane (image/model below) C/A flew in could have fit more than 2 people.

Beechcraft S35 Bonanza:

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Next, we see Carol (looking amazing as always) holding/shooting the crossbow, killing the walker we see below.

What's interesting here is that this walker is covered in moss and what looks like fungus growing out of it, which would happen to walkers who have been around water and/or in humid environments. The walker is also wearing winter clothing, which aligns with the snowy mountains in the background.

The only other place I remember seeing a walker like this, in France, was on the way to Normandy Beach, where Daryl looked over at the walker that had similar moss on it with trees growing through it; however, if I had to guess I'd say that's not relevant to the location of this new scene.

If the filming location accurately reflects the actual location of Carol/Crew, based on the surroundings and lake in the above shots, my best guess is that they are near the French Alps, somewhere around the area highlighted in red, OR the Spanish Alps highlighted in blue, since the rest of France is relatively flat and does not feature any large mountain scapes like we see in the photos.

It is also possible that these photos of Carol and Ash in the mountains are pre-France, set in the US while they were planning their departure via plane, with the only reason being that I don't think I've seen any photos of Carol or Daryl with the crossbow in France (that we know for sure were set in France). However, I'm still leaning towards it being in France because I don't see why Carol couldn't have taken the crossbow with her if they managed to take the rifle along.

Carol is later seen in a clip at Chantier Naval de la Passagère (purple mark on map), placing her right next to Daryl/Crew at Mont Saint-Michel (green mark on map).

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The Sneak Peek

The first thing to note with the sneak peek is that it looks like these images from the first teaser (below)...

are not at the same location as Daryl/Crew fighting in the sneak peak (below).

Another thing to note that's different is the people present with Daryl during each fight, which brings me to the next thing I've noticed.

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When the back of the truck is opened in the sneak peek, we see three people sitting in the back. After playing with the image a little bit, it becomes a little easier to guess who we're looking at.

To me, it appears that it's Fallou and Emile on the right, and the guy on the left resembles the man highlighted in the image below (from the first teaser).

All of this leads me to believe that somehow/somewhere, Fallou, Emile, and the ??? Man are taken by Genet and her people. This would explain Daryl's desperation during the sneak peek fight to stop Genet/Crew and get to whatever/whoever is in the back of the truck.

However, it gets a little complicated with how the timeline of these two fights relates to the below scene with Carol/Fallou/Codron.

I have two theories about how the timeline can go, but for now I'm just going to break down the one I think is the most feasible.

Firstly, we know that Fallou and Emile leave Daryl/Crew in 01x06, potentially heading back to Paris. On their way, they run into Codron, who's been badly hurt/tortured by Genet, along with Carol, who has tracked Daryl to Paris at this point.

From here, after resting, resupplying, and with the new information that Codron and Fallou gave her about Daryl's whereabouts and what he's been going through to try and get back to her, Carol leaves the Paris group and heads out to resume her search for him.

Sometime after Carol leaves Paris, the Paris group/base could have been attached, leading to Fallou, Emille, and ??? Man being captured.

This leads us to the fight we see in the sneak peek between Daryl/Crew and Genet/Crew, which results in Fallou/Emile/??? Man being rescued and joining up with Daryl and the Nest Crew again.

Here's where I think it gets interesting: Now that Fallout is back with Daryl, he tells him everything he knows about Carol, how they ran into her, how she's been looking for him, and how, right before the attack on that Paris base, she left to resume her search for him.

This would light a fire under Daryl, realising how much danger she could be in because the areas between Paris and Mont Saint-Michel are swarming with Genet's men, and Carol could very likely be unknowingly walking into an ambush that wasn't meant for her.

Knowing that Carol is somewhere between Paris and Mont Saint-Michel, Daryl can now easily track her to Maison Mere, where she happens to be trapped in a car with Ash, surrounded by walkers (image below).

This leads us to the scene from the first teaser, where we see Daryl, Fallou, Isabell,??? Man, and a few others from the Nest, are searching through what we've said appears to be Maison Mere.

In the first teaser, We see the walkers surrounding Carol's car get killed by something/someone that's not visible to us, other than the lone hand we see on the back of the windshield, which we have all agreed strongly resembles Daryl's (image below).

Leading us to our long-awaited life-changing reunion!!

Thank you so much for sticking with me and getting through this post ♡. I really hope reading it made sense like it did in my head.

I'd love to hear your thoughts on any of the above and specially on things that I've missed.

I'm so happy we'll have Caryl back in a few short months!!! Our wait is almost over ♡♡♡

#caryl #caryl meta

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carylnetwork · 22 days

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Carol and Daryl - TWD:DD The Book of Carol - Season 2 Sneak Peak

They are raising hell just to get back to each other! And the parallels in their journey are endless ♡♡♡

Have you guys also noticed that they've pulled a page from Niel Gaimans book with Good Omens? They've given each of them their own side of the screen when showing them in closeup 😍 and I love it sm!

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My analysis of the new Season 2 Teaser and Sneak Peak is coming soon!

#the book of carol #twd daryl dixon #caryl #caryl meta

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carylnetwork · 22 days

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Romain has renamed the show lol

#the book of caryl

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carylnetwork · 3 months

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THE WALKING DEAD (2010-2022) 7.10 ✩ New Best Friends

#caryl #caryl gif #carol peletier #daryl dixon #s7

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carylnetwork · 4 months

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Caryl's Secret Santa from @mcbride to @breb23 with 🤍! [insp.] MERRY CHRISTMAS 2k23!

#caryl #caryl gif #carol peletier #daryl dixon

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carylnetwork · 4 months

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The Longest Night

Written For: mizjoely

Title: The Longest Night Author: @peletiersdixon Rating: G Summary: It’s their first winter on the road, and Daryl brings Carol a token to boost her spirits A/N: Merry Christmas! Hope you enjoy!!

It was obviously the beginning of winter—the shortest days of the year, nights getting longer and longer, with little sun left to guide them on their runs between makeshift shelters. Winters were milder down south, but the nights still dipped into freezing temperature, and it was a struggle for their ragged little group to find places to try to scrabble together some rest, if not actual sleep.

Carol looked around the rundown convenience store, and pulled the thin blanket she had closer around her shoulders. They were huddled together for warmth, but still clung to their little groups: Rick, Lori, and Carl; Hershel, Beth, Maggie, and Glenn; T-Dog, Daryl, and herself. The three of them were the outsiders, and she did her best to see that Daryl and T didn’t become too ostracized from the rest of them. Daryl was out hunting right now, hoping to find some small animal to supplement their meager stores. T was on watch, so she was left to her own devices and sleep was hard to come by with the cold permeating her bones.

It was close to Christmas, not that anyone was thinking of celebrating holidays anymore. But the time of year, the smell in the air, the cold weather brought all the memories to the forefront. Last year, she and Sophia had sat up on Christmas Eve while Ed had been working the night shift and drank hot chocolate while watching The Muppet’s Christmas Carol. It was the only bit of celebrating they enjoyed. The peace they relished when it was just the two of them.

Her eyes burned from holding back the unshed tears as she sat with the memory. Remembering running her fingers through the soft shiny hair of her little girl and the scent of her green apple shampoo wafting past her nostrils. The feel of her tiny body cuddled up against the side of her mother, burrowing into her warmth. Carol blinked back the stinging sensation and quietly sniffled into the blanket. The ever present ache of Sophia’s absence felt like a hole in Carol’s chest, one she had to sit with and could never ever fill.

She slid down onto the cold floor, head propped on a knapsack, and curled into a tight ball to try to conserve her meager warmth, pulling the blanket tighter around her thin frame. As the night wore on, she drifted off, awakening in fits and starts as cold shivers wracked her body until a warmth drifted over her back. She had the vaguest awareness of two presences surrounding her and felt a wash of safety and security filter through her as she sensed T-Dog switch out with Rick on watch. Through the mingling smells of body odor and sweat, and unwashed clothes mixed with gore and walker guts, she scented the fresh outdoors: clean air and pine trees, and she knew Daryl was back, and had thrown his blanket over her back. Falling back to sleep was much easier after that.

Once morning arrived, she awoke feeling slightly more rested, and sat up, running her hands over her face. Muted light filtered in through the windows spilling over the tiled floors, and illuminating a brown beer bottle sitting next to her on the floor. Her breath caught as she realized what was in the bottle. A Cherokee rose, browning on the edge of the petals and looking so much the worse for wear (probably the last of the season,) sat limply in the bottle.

It wasn’t the flower itself that caused her chest to quake. It was the knowledge that she wasn’t alone in her memories of Sophia. That Carol was seen, and known. That Daryl hadn’t forgotten, wouldn’t forget. She wasn’t sitting solitary in her pain. It was a flower that bloomed for a mother’s tears. And this year, this Christmas, Daryl had sensed she was hurting, and he had taken action, as he was prone to do. Words weren’t his style. But when she looked at that tiny offering, she didn’t need words. She had all she needed.

#caryl #caryl fanfic

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carylnetwork · 4 months

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Change

Written For: @mcbride

Title: Change Author: @tigereyes45 Rating: G Summary: The day before Daryl leaves, Carol stops by his room. A/N: I wrote a story and made a quick gif for it. I hope you enjoy!

This is it. Daryl stuffs another shirt into the old duffel bag. Carol folds her arms over her chest. She leans against the doorframe. Once upon a time Daryl’s room would’ve been bare. With only the old decorations of previous occupants on its walls. Now though, there are dozens of hand made drawings hanging up. Little boys and girls in cowboy hats, and standing on top of piles of the dead walkers.

RJ’s work is more structured than Judith’s. Her colors sit in unusual places, experimental by design. Always testing the waters, that one. Carol wonders who she got that from.

“What’s got you smiling?” Daryl asks, quickly looking away from her face and back to his bag. This time he throws another shirt in, not bothering to fold it.

Carol crosses the room and pulls the shirt right back out. Daryl doesn’t even try to stop her. She leans in close to his face, as she folds the shirt without looking at it. “The pictures.” She gestures towards the wall to their left. A small o, sits on Daryl’s lips, inaudible. It’s clear what he’d been thinking. She was smiling about him leaving. Really it’s a good thing he’s doing. Going out there, finding their friends, making new connections for their community, it’s all great work.

He’ll be amazing out there.

She just wishes she could go with him, but they need her here. For once a part of her wants to stay.

“Run away with me?” He’d asked the night before, and she had wanted to say yes. It used to be she was the one asking him to run away. For the two of them to take off, travel alone, but he kept her grounded. Kept her around, and even when she went off, he always brought her back.

Now it’s her time to bring him back.

“You never used to decorate your rooms.” Carol casually points out, as she gently packs the neatly folded shirt back in.

Daryl shrugs. “This one I’m planning on coming back too.”

“That’s good to hear.” Carol rests a hand on the back of his shoulder. With her other, she passes him a pair of pants. “Any reason why?”

Daryl rolls his eyes and takes the pants. “You know why.”

“Can’t a girl fish for compliments?”

“Not you.” Daryl smiles down at his bag. “You don’t need to fish.”

Carol nods her head in a gesture of thanks. Daryl’s a sweetheart. He always has been. She drops onto the bed. Daryl quickly pushes the last of his things into the duffel. It’s out of space before he’s done, so he just squeezes it down, and zips it tight. Then he rounds the bed and sits next to her.

“You thinkin’ about tomorrow?”

Carol smiles, and shrugs. “Yes, but not just that.”

Daryl scoots closer to her. His knee bumps against her leg. “It’s only temporary. I’ll come back.”

“I know.”

Nervously, he rubs at the back of his neck. Searching for something else to say. Carol gives him a break. “I was thinking about how much we’ve changed.”

“Yeah?”

She playfully bumps her elbow against his. “Yeah.” This room, him leaving instead of her, but also everything with her. There’s so much change. Finally, it feels like some of it is the results of healing, or at least leading to it.

Carol leans her shoulder against his. “Where we begin is not where we end.”

Without missing a beat, Daryl rolls his eyes. “Found some old fortune cookies?”

“Just feeling wistful.” Carol gestures to her tied-back hair. “It comes with wisdom.”

He throws an arm around her shoulders and pulls her closer. “You mean age.” Daryl teases before kissing the top of her head.

They’ve come a long way from their sore beginnings, but a better middle awaits here, in this place they fought for. When he gets back, maybe a softer ending can begin. The walkers aren’t going away. The past is never coming back, but Daryl is, and here a future will be waiting.

#caryl #caryl fanfic

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carylnetwork · 4 months

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For @tigereyes45!! I hope you like it! Happy holidays!! from: @madwomanlexie

#caryl #caryl fanart

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carylnetwork · 4 months

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Christmas Reminisce

Written For: @lola-andheruniverse

Title: Christmas Reminisce Author: @theresnosafeharbor4myships Rating: G Summary: Daryl and Carol spend a quiet night in France missing and reminiscing A/N: Happy holidays, @lola-andheruniverse!! I hope you've found some joy, moments of peace, and pockets of rest this season. Merry Christmas, and I hope you enjoy this quiet fic with your requested moment of tenderness. :D

Daryl bolted upright, heaving breaths through his nose as his dream world slipped away. He turned immediately to his left, but the spot beside him was empty.

“You okay?”

On his right, Carol stood at the window, the blue-white moonlight filtering in, lighting up her face just enough for him to see the concern written on it. She'd wrapped her too-large, calf-length sweater around her, her arms crossed to help ward off the cold seeping into the monastery walls.

“Mmm,” he hummed noncommittally, throwing the covers away from his legs, grateful to leave the nightmare that haunted him behind.

The chilly air immediately stole the warmth of the bed from him as he moved to stand behind her, and he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her back into his chest. They stood in silence for a few minutes, slightly swaying to a slow rhythm and staring out at the frigid night, the frosted ground, the icy waters.

He'd never intended to stay in France, but he was grateful it'd turned out the way it had or he'd be fighting off the winter elements in parts unknown, and Carol...well, she wouldn't be in his arms right now, he knew that much.

On a good day in the Before, he never could've imagined visiting France. And while it wasn't home and it'd been a treacherous journey through the country, being here in a once-famous monastery was something he and Carol would forever share: the two of them—having separately traversed an ocean—found each other and ended up here. Together.

“Wanna tell me about your dream?” Her voice came softly, quietly, and without demand.

He dropped a kiss into her hair just above her ear. “Some other time.” Another kiss. “Same thing got you up?”

Silence for a few beats, then she murmured a 'no' on a sigh. “Just thinking about home. Hoping Jude and RJ aren't giving Aaron and Gabriel too much trouble.”

He waited for her to continue, and when she didn't, he asked, “Sure that's all?”

He saw her quirk one side of her mouth up in the window's reflection. “Remember our Christmas at the prison?”

He nodded. “Yeah,” he answered, an unusual sense of nostalgia washing over him. He didn't often let himself think about what had been—either the good or the bad. Both hurt too much, and he had enough on his plate on any given day without the added weight of memories. But for a few moments, holding Carol and remembering together, he let himself reminisce. The tree Carl roped Glenn into cutting down. The ornaments the kids made to decorate it. The songs the others had sung in hushed tones that echoed throughout their cell block. The smiles and laughter that accompanied them more on that one day they'd chosen to celebrate as Christmas than any day that'd come before for their group. How he'd felt like an actual part of that group of people.

“We barely had anything to make it an actual Christmas celebration, but it worked somehow.” Carol paused, and he wondered how she remembered it, which moments had solidified in her mind. “Those ugly ornaments the kids made,” she chuckled. “That bitter chocolate Hershel found in the warden's desk drawer that we made into hot choco-yuck.”

Daryl huffed a laugh, remembering Carl's name for the silt water they'd all pretended was cocoa.

Carol didn't continue, and he waited, the cold seeping through his pajamas along his back a sharp contrast to the warmth he felt with her against his chest.

“I wonder what the kids are doing this year.”

He felt more than heard the heartache in her words and wished, like she did, that they slept at home, with the kids and the rest of their family nearby.

The Nest leaders had been promising the kids in the commune a Christmas celebration, albeit a simple one, for the past week. Daryl had ignored the hype, much like he'd done with Christmases in the Before, but he'd noticed Carol's contemplative nature earlier at dinner. He'd sat next to her, deftly fending off the few attempts at conversation others threw their way. He hadn't asked her what was on her mind as they'd readied for bed, instead waiting for her to reveal what bothered her. It didn't surprise him it had to do with the kids. He missed them too.

“Hey,” he said softly, unwrapping his arms from around her and gently turning her to face him. “We're gonna see 'em again.” He cupped one hand along the side of her neck, just below her ear, his thumb running back and forth along her jawline. “Soon as the snow melts and it's safe to sail again, we're goin'.”

She peered up at him, her eyes full of trust and tears. “I know. Just feels like forever away right now. We've been gone so long...”

“Sorry I got caught up in stuff I shouldn't have. I didn't mean—”

She raised a finger to his lips. “I'm not sorry I came looking for you. And certainly not sorry I'm here.”

He nodded, believing her even as guilt sat heavy in his gut.

With a hand to the back of his neck, Carol drew his face toward her until his forehead touched hers. He closed his eyes for a minute, listening to her breathe, feeling her fingers ruffle through his hair at the nape of his neck.

“I'm so glad I found you.”

Daryl felt the breath of her words against his face and tangle in his heart. “Glad you came lookin'.”

She eased away from him a few seconds later to look into his eyes. “It's a miracle we didn't miss each other.”

“Oh, I missed you plenty,” he stated, feathering her hair away from her forehead with one hand. A smile lit up her face. “More'an you know. Never shoulda left you.”

“Now's your chance to never do it again,” she teased.

“Yes, ma'am.”

Carol shivered, and Daryl rubbed his hands up and down her arms to lend her warmth. “Head back to bed?” he asked, head nodding towards the large bed with layers of blankets on it.

She took a final glace out the window at the cold night and nodded. “Yeah.”

She waited for him to settle into the mattress before sliding under the covers and pressing her back against his chest. He draped his arm loosely around her waist as she tucked the edges of the blankets around her body, sealing the frigid air out and cocooning them in warmth.

“G'night.”

“'Night.” Daryl dropped another kiss into her hair and closed his eyes contentedly, the best Christmas present he could ever wish for wrapped in his arms.

#caryl #caryl fanfic

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carylnetwork · 4 months

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Just a Haircut

Written For: @madwomanlexie ❤️

Title: Just a Haircut Author: @breb23 Rating: T Summary: Part one of this mini series! Daryl's perspective during THE haircut in 9x7. A/N: Merry Christmas, madwomanlexie!!! This one is a bit angsty so I wrote a happier chapter in part two. :)

"After a while, it just got easier to stay out here."

It's the closest he'll let himself come to telling her the truth. He was always looking for Rick, of course, but as the years went on, priorities shifted. While he found solace in the thick overhang of forest, she found hers in The Kingdom.

He never blames her. No, this was the life she has always deserved. With all of the sadness she has faced in her life, she deserves to have a loving husband by her side and a child to hold. He can see the way her eyes brighten when talking about Henry, the way her life with Ezekiel is healing the pieces he had yearned to put together himself.

He hates himself for the twinge of jealousy sitting like a rock in his gut.

"You have to let that go," she murmurs, her fingers whispering across his face and down his jaw. There's a silent pull between them, so strong that for a moment he forgets that she isn't his anymore. He forgets that she is just a good friend who's cutting his hair because her knees are barely resting against his thighs and that rock in his stomach melts into lava.

“Get a hold of yourself,” he thinks, horrified by how quickly she can break the facade he's worked so hard to build. Her touch has always had that effect on him. He remembers her warm breath tickling his neck that first haircut at the prison, when everything seemed to be easier between them.

He doesn't let himself dwell on that memory. He turns his attention back to Carol. Does she mean he needs to let Rick go? The woods? She couldn't mean for him to stay at The Kingdom, right? They may not have verbalized the reasoning, but they both knew that wasn't an option. Or maybe this was her way of telling him to move on from the past, from her. His chest starts to ache, the yearning to tell her the truth, to show her how she makes him feel inside, all the t-

"There. That's better," she smirks, her expression playful again. He blinks, jarred by the change in atmosphere. He lets out a breath he'd been holding, finding comfort in the ease of their friendship, something that he knows he'll always have. He wants more- of course he wants more. But this is enough for him for a lifetime.

#caryl #caryl fanfic

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carylnetwork · 4 months

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Not Just a Trim

Written for: @madwomanlexie

Title: Not Just a Trim Author: @breb23 Rating: M Summary: Part two of this series! Takes place a few years after season 11 (let's pretend everything is resolved in France and we are back home lol). There's some Christmas-y smut in this so proceed with caution hahaha. I hope you have a wonderful Christmas ❤️💚

She wakes to clanging downstairs, followed by a curse. Bright white light is seeping through the curtain and she can hear the muffled splat of wet snow against the window.

She slips into the wool socks Lydia had made for her last week as an early Christmas present. The previous year, Lydia had snuck a knitted hat under her door on Christmas Eve, too nervous to announce the present she had spent days making.

Carol ambles to the bathroom to get ready for the holiday, a small smile on her lips.

She pads downstairs, still pajama clad, and sighs with contentment as warmth seeps into her bones. She hears him in the kitchen and her heart swells as her family comes into view- Lydia stirring something sweet on the stove while Daryl rinses something in the sink with one arm, their little bundle in the other.

❄️❄️❄️

Daryl and Aaron had found Cecilia on a stifling August day, between the border of Virginia and North Carolina. It was supposed to be a long supply run, at least a month. So when Carol saw their car pull back into Alexandria after just two weeks, her stomach filled with dread. Assuming the worst as she ran towards their car, her eyes raked over Daryl in the passenger seat, looking for signs of injury.

Instead she found him smiling back at her with pride and trepidation and love, so beautiful and unexpected that her breath was stolen away. He opened the car door and took her under his arm, her face tucked in his neck. It was a closeness he rarely displayed publicly, but at that moment he didn't seem to care.

"Missed you," he exhaled, his nose burrowed in her hair. He kissed her then with a vigor she matched instantly, her hands moving to his shoulders. Her eyes flew open when she felt her, soft and warm.

There, snuggled into Daryl's arm, was a sleeping baby whose lips squished into a purse and tongue sucked against the cool evening air, as if dreaming about milk. Carol hadn't had words yet, didn't know how to react or what this meant but she'd quickly brought them inside, pulling a soft blanket from the couch to wrap around the baby. Her hands had wrapped the bundle with muscle memory she didn't realize she still possessed.

Daryl explained that her biological mother must have known she wasn't going to live and barricaded herself outside of the small mountainside cottage. Aaron took down her walker form while Daryl tore at the wooden planks, barging into her nursery moments later. Hands shaking, he had scooped up the screaming infant, her eyes tearless from dehydration. Cecilia was painted above her crib in a pale yellow cursive.

"Shhh, I gotcha, I gotcha," he had whispered, his eyes scanning the room for formula. In the end, Aaron had found a stockpile of what she would need in the closet of the nursery. They left a few hours after, heading straight back to Alexandria.

It'd been Carol's idea, after all, the same day they’d come back from the run. She knew it was an impossible idea- she and Daryl raising an infant after all they had lost. Yet, seeing Daryl whisper softly to her while peering up at Carol had taken away any question that this was his baby- no, this was their baby.

❄️❄️❄️

"Morning!" Lydia smiles, her eyes sparkling with childlike glee. Carol blinks away the memory and takes Lydia into a warm hug, squeezing her with all of the love she could muster.

"Good morning, sweetie," she says warmly, sniffing the pot of cinnamon sticks and cider. "Wassail?"

"I, uh, showed Lydia how to make it. Thought you might like to wake up to it like when you were younger. Dunno if we did the right-"

"You remembered," Carol whispers with a smile, blinking quickly to keep her tears at bay. "You always remember."

She walks over to him now, nuzzling into his arms that wrap so naturally around her shoulders. She smooches Cecilia's warm cheek, and is rewarded with a gummy smile.

"'Slept real good. Only had to feed her once during the night," Daryl smiled down at Carol, his eyes hidden behind the fringe of hair. Carol had briefly woken to the steady gulp and suck of Cecilia and fallen back asleep upon Daryl's gentle fingers on her back, stroking sleepily back and forth as he fed their baby.

Carol brushes Daryl's hair away from his face, tutting her tongue. "You, sir, need a haircut. Lydia, can you watch Cece for a bit?"

"Yeah, but don't be too long," Lydia grimaces with slight disgust in a way only a teenager can exude.

Carol chuckles and Daryl rolls his eyes, ducking his head while they make their way upstairs and into the bathroom. Carol grabbed the pair of scissors in the cabinet but was quickly spun around against the door, scissors clattering to the floor near Daryl's toes.

"Watch it, you could've lost a foot!" Carol cried out, but was quickly silenced by Daryl's lips against hers.

"Don't care," he mutters in her mouth, his tongue grazing her lip. He pushes her against the bathroom door, the taste of cinnamon and cider and Daryl intoxicating her. Her hips lift against his as he grazes his palms across her sides, over the flare of her hips and settling on her ass. He squeezes, his hot breath ticking the hollow space beneath her ear. She is putty against him as one hand trails down her thigh, closing around the back of her knee. He hitches her leg around his hip, and they both moan at the friction. Her hands slip under his shirt, blunt nails raising goosebumps in their wake. She runs her fingers through his chest hair and tugs.

"Fuck, Carol," he growls, pushing away long enough to pull her plaid pajama pants to her ankles. Kicking off his own, they come together again, their kisses fighting for control.

Daryl lifts her off the ground, setting her on the counter as her thighs bracket his hips. He grinds himself against her center, slippery with need.

"Daryl," she whispers as he positions himself against her. Her arms loop under his, hands grasping the angle of his shoulder blades. He's hard and taut where she's pliable as he enters her in one slow motion.

"Mmmm?" He mumbles into her ear, nibbling light enough to earn a gasp from her. His thrusts are slow and deep, and he ignores her desperate attempts to move faster. His hands trail under her, lifting her against him and she moans at the subtle change in position.

She can feel a knot building deep in her as he takes control. He licks and sucks the web where her neck and shoulder meet, his tongue memorizing her with every stroke. She's heavy with need, clinging to him and he bites down on her neck and she feels herself begin to flutter around him, her body melting in his arms. He lifts his mouth from her shoulder just to muffle her cries with his lips, her mouth open and breathy against his.

She feels him throb inside of her, her walls pulling him deeper and deeper until there's nowhere else to go. He makes no attempt to muffle his own moans, spilling himself deep inside her walls as he mutters her name like a prayer.

Their heartbeats are racing against each other as he slumps over her, still cradling her body with one hand and his other underneath her. She is sated and sleepy, enjoying the quiet stillness of his company, no words needed to express their love. It's always been like that.

He pulls away when she begins to tremble from the draft coming in through the bathroom window. He grabs a towel and lightly drags it across her skin, cleaning and then kissing her as he trails from her knees to her thighs, before lifting her pants back.

Pulling up his own, he reaches over and taps her lightly on the butt. "C'mon, lunch time," he smirks, a light blush on his cheeks.

"When did you become an ass man, Daryl?" she questions quietly, her eyebrow raised and lips pursed in a flirt as they walk down the stairs.

His blush deepens, trailing down his neck. "Stop," he mutters, and she giggles in response.

As they reach the kitchen, Carol lifts Cecilia into her arms, blowing raspberries into her daughter's onesie-clad tummy. Her belly laugh is contagious, and they all join her. The roast Daryl had caught the night before was almost ready, the aroma wafting in the kitchen as Daryl checks the meat.

"Wait," Lydia gasps suddenly, peering down at Daryl. "She didn't even cut your hair!" She yells out in horror, and Carol laughs harder, her cheeks hurting from smiling so much. Lydia starts laughing despite herself.

Daryl mumbles something about not having a scissors, ears pink with embarrassment, which just makes them laugh harder. Cecilia joins in, and Daryl can't help but chuckle at the ridiculousness of it all. Shaking his head, he stalks back over to Carol, grabbing her face dramatically as he kisses her, not caring anymore about the complaints from Lydia.

"Merry Christmas, baby," he murmurs to Carol, his eyes shining with emotion. Her eyes mirror his, so thankful for the man in front of her.

"Merry Christmas, Pookie."

#caryl #caryl fanfic

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carylnetwork · 4 months

Text

50 Days

Written For:@peletiersdixon

Title: 50 days Author: @lola-andheruniverse Rating: T/ Teen and Up Audiences Summary: “With shivering fingers, she grabs the framed picture from her bookcase and looks at it. Looks at him. Really looks at him. There it is. The same look she sees everyday when they walk with Dog. The same look he had when he said he loved her, fifty days ago. A look he’s being giving her for years now. Maybe since the beginning of them.

You do love me...don’t you?” A/N: This is the first time I’ve written a fanfic in over 15 years, and the first time ever writing for caryl. I hope I made them justice. English is not my first language. I struggle with commas and I like my ‘and’s. There’s no beta work here besides my grammar check app so I apologize for any mistakes/typos. Kudos to anyone who can find my little references to Doctor Who.

Dear Liddy, I used your favorite scene as base for this story + a little speculation on my part for TWD:DD and The Book of Carol. Fingers crossed that you enjoy it. I wish you a Merry Christmas and a 2024 full of beauty, light and fun.

____________________________

“I love you.”

He says it like it is the most profound thing to say. Like it’s an old secret or a promise long kept. He says while looking at her like she’s someone endearing to look at. And she doesn’t understand why. Of course he loves her. She knows he does. She’s his best friend! Silly man.

Why are you saying this to me now?

She giggles just a little. Shrugs and fights the need not to nod condescendingly because this is clearly important to him. And she knows better than anyone that he doesn't say anything he doesn't fully intend to say.

“I love you too.”

She says it back because apparently he needs to hear it. Because it's the umpteenth time they'll be apart and it's good to say goodbye without leaving anything unsaid for once. Because it’s true.

Don’t you know it already?

He smiles that little smile that she secretly adores. Caresses her face with his hand and hugs her. Cradles her head and she breathes that unique combination that’s him – pine, grease, leather, sweat, tobacco, petrichor – and everything should be perfect for one small moment, but it isn’t. Because she can feel through her shoulder that he’s chewing on his lower lip and through her chest that his breathing is heavy. Sometimes a hug is just a way to hide your face.

What? What is it? What is wrong?

But there’s no time for her to understand because their hug is over too soon and he’s smiling again but it doesn’t reach his eyes. She sighs and looks at the vast blue sky to not see him getting on the bike. It really is a beautiful day to hit the road. He watches her intently for a beat.

What, Daryl?

She keeps smiling because she doesn’t know what else to do. What else to say. She needs him to go because all of this fucking hurts and she doesn’t deal well with hurt. She’s keeping together because he deserves to leave while she has a smile on her face. He deserves to see that she’s fine. Just a little sad, as she told him. He probably needs to see that she’s fine. Or else he won’t go.

I don’t want you to go.

He said it’s not like they’re not going to see each other again. So she focuses on that and keeps smiling. This is not the time or place to think about what she wants. He can go. He’ll be back someday and she’ll be here. That’s fine. She’s fine. He can go.

And so he does.

She watches him grow smaller and smaller on the horizon, feeling like a kid that got a puzzle for Christmas with a missing piece.

____________________________

She doesn’t deal well with hurt, but she’s damn good at compartmentalizing, so that’s what she does. She keeps going, trying her best not to count the days since he left.

03 days.

It’s not like things are completely different from when he was there. Her daily routine is basically the same. She wakes up at 5am and takes Dog for a walk. When he’s home they do it together, enjoying the sunrise and the last hour of quietness before the town wakes up. It’s the only time they have to be alone and talk. Sometimes they reminisce about previous homes and lost family members, or about what the future holds for the kids and for Lydia. Sometimes they just coordinate what their day will be like because Judith needs a new pair of shoes and they’re out of butter. She realizes, with a bit of surprise, that they've probably talked to each other more this past year than in all the years they've known each other. Most of it they just watch Dog running around enjoying each other’s company. There’s a distinct void by her side where he should be, but she does her best and ignores it. He’ll come back eventually. She’s fine.

05 days.

She cooks breakfast for the kids and makes sure RJ has everything he’ll need for school. The boy has a special talent for putting his things away and instantly forgetting about them. She thinks he got it from Rick. God bless him.

09 days.

The CW and all of its sister communities are home to a few thousand people and the paperwork to keep track of everyone and everything that happens everywhere is endless. Hornsby had many flaws, but sloppy wasn’t one of them. The man registered every single thing he knew and even a year later she’s still working her way through his notes and digging out shady information. It suits her fine. She’s very good at her job. Before, she could finish things up by 7pm and be home for dinner time. Now she needs to leave at four, so she can pick the kids up from school and take care of them. That’s not a problem. No better hour than 3am in the morning to read a 65-page report on poppy harvesting.

14 days.

She dreams that night that he’s hugging her and it’s so vivid she can feel him around her hours later. It makes it especially hard to focus on her meeting with Mercer and Ezekiel that afternoon. The CW Autumn Festival is a week away and Mercer is trying to convince the eternally enthusiastic Ezekiel that there's no need to add more activities than what's already planned. It’s a lot easier to work with him now that he’s an elected representative of the people, but sometimes the King in him tries to get out. When the meeting is finally over, he tells her every festival reminds him of Henry. There's nostalgic joy in his voice and an easy smile on his face. He’s done grieving. She excuses herself and goes to the roof. She lights up a cigarette but resists the urge to inhale. She just needs to smell the tobacco in the air for a few minutes. Her heart aches with longing and she pretends it’s only for Henry. She’s fine.

21 fucking days.

On the day of the festival, they have a great parade to celebrate all the special residents of the CW. Jude walks in front of the swordsman section with her katana with so much grace that Michonne would swell with pride. Lori would too. That’s why she’s there. That’s why she stayed. To take care of little ass kicker for them. For him too.

22 days.

It’s almost midnight and she’s sitting on the porch, stargazing, a cup of lukewarm coffee in her right hand. Today was a good day. Lydia came home for the festival and is staying a whole week this time. The girl does a wonderful job as a mail woman for the communities. It’s rare to have her stay for more than a couple of days. Her room is always clean and ready for her. She makes sure of this because if anyone deserves a welcoming home, it's Lydia.

“Hey.” She hears her before she sees her because all the lights are off. She revels in the fact that even when the girl speaks softly, there's a distinct lightness to her voice that her teenage self didn't have.

“Hey you. Shouldn’t you be asleep?” On the other hand, her voice sounds motherly, no matter how much she wishes it didn’t. She just can’t help it.

“Oh, I’m on my way. I just wanted to give you this.” She hopes Lydia doesn’t notice how her breath catches for a second or that her hand shakes slightly as she takes the letter from her. The paper is folded twice and one end is stained with water. She can’t read it in the dark, but she can smell it. It smells like him. “I picked it up on the last dropping site up North ten days ago, but he probably left it earlier than that. I'm sorry I didn't give it to you sooner. You were just so busy with the festival.”

“Oh, that’s okay. Thank you for delivering it to me now. But it’s late and you need to rest. You work too much. Do you want to eat anything else before going to bed?” There’s just too much affection in her heart, motherly voice be damned.

“No, no, I’m fine. Good night, Carol...I miss him too.”

She takes her time, pretending her heart isn’t beating anxiously. Drinks the rest of her now cold coffee. Gets inside and leaves the mug on the kitchen sink to wash in the morning. Checks on RJ and Judith to make sure they are sleeping. Instead of going to her own bedroom, she opts to enter his room. Like Lydia’s room, she makes sure to clean it regularly. Dog sleeps in his bed every night and when she sits down next to him, she is greeted with a wagging tail and a sloppy lick on the cheek.

“Hello, hello, you. Calm down. I’m not here to sleep over. Calm down.”

She turns on his lampshade and finally, finally, opens his letter. His voice fills every space in her mind.

Carol,

I’m on the road for 11 days now. On the third day the damn bike broke down and I had to scavenge some parts to fix it. It’s working fine now. No other problems so far – good weather, few walkers, no people. I’m catching small game near the road and I still got most of my rations.

I wonder how many days it will be before you receive this letter. Probably a lot because I’m using the last dropping site on the North border. Sorry to leave you without news for so long. I’ve been thinking about you though. I bet you’re working your ass off even worse now that I’m not there to stop you. Don’t you go and exhaust yourself, okay? Try to sleep more than four fucking hours a night and eat your food, your paperwork ain’t going nowhere.

How are the kids? The parade thing already happened? Tell Jude I'm wishing her luck, but I’m sure she is going to kick ass. What about RJ? He promised me a drawing for every day I'm away so put him to work. The kid is a fucking artist, I swear. Shit, now I’m homesick. Give them a hug from me, please? Lydia too, I suppose she’s home since you got my letter. Tell her I miss her. We don’t see her enough. She works too much just like you.

I’m going to cross the border tomorrow. It may take some time, but I’m going to find some way to communicate with you. I promise. So don’t you worry too much. I’ll be back before you know it. You won't even have time to miss me. I miss you though. Every day I watch the sunrise and think about you (and Dog).

I love you. See you soon.

Daryl

She breathes in. Traces his words with her finger. Breathes out. He wrote that he loved her. They exchanged letters when she was on the boat. He's never done this before. She’s intrigued, to say the least. What led him to say these words?

Why, Daryl? Why?

____________________________

25 days.

She keeps the letter under her pillow and every night, before she goes to sleep, she rereads it, trying to decipher his intentions. She recalls him saying it just before he left, and she knows there’s something she’s missing but she has no idea what it is.

29 days. Why did you say you love me? Why did you write it down?

Jude gets her period for the first time and, while preparing a hot water bottle for the girl, she has to hold back tears and stop thinking about how she never got the chance to do it for Sophia. Hilltop is struggling to harvest enough food to contribute to all sister communities because its soil is still recovering from the fire caused in the war against the Whisperers, and it causes a small political crisis.

33 days. Why, Daryl? It’s not like you meant it that way, so why did you do it?

She talks with Gabriel over the radio. There's some stomach bug going around Alexandria; he's worried they won't be able to control it with the resources they have. She personally arranges for everything they need to be delivered, sends an extra doctor to help, and dreams about killing Karen and David for the rest of the week.

45 days. You can’t mean it. It’s me. I don’t deserve it.

It is time for the bimonthly meeting between the sister communities and Aaron shows up accompanied by none other than Dwight. He comes to present his intent of rebuilding the Sanctuary as a community and to ask for the CW’s help. He talks for hours. All other agendas are postponed as this ghost of their past comes back and tells them stories about cowboys and radioactive walkers, Morgan and Sherry, becoming a father and burying his son. His voice is decided and steady, but his eyes have this subtle glint of someone who’s thinking how the hell they got where they are and when they can leave. She can relate. The day ends, and they need more hours to come to any decision, so everyone agrees to resume their meeting the next day. Her family always stay the night at their house when they’re in town so she asks them to go ahead while she finishes up the meeting’s minutes. She just needs a moment to sort out her own feelings.

She’s back at her office, staring blindly at a sheet of paper and there’s a knock on her slightly open door. Dwight’s there, hands in his pocket, a question in his face.

“May I come in?”

So formal. “Yes, of course. Can I help you with something? Did anyone tell you where you can stay the night? Usually it’s Mercer who…”

“Yes, yes, he’s waiting outside. I just need to ask you something.”

“Okay. Sure.”

“You’re Daryl’s, aren’t you?”

She blinks one. Twice. “I’m sorry. Come again?”

“When I went to Alexandria a few days ago, I asked for Daryl. You see, he’s the one who released me. He didn’t forgive me for what I’d done, but he somehow understood my reasons. He told me to go find my wife and never come back. I did what he told me. I found Sherry. I had a son. I fought other wars. I lost my son. I came back.”

“He gave you a second chance.” Of course he did, that was who he was. He was good.

“He did. He really did. And I’ll never be able to repay him for it. You know, for a long time, I didn’t get why he let me go. He should have killed me, I wanted him to. Sherry got it before I did. Right from the start, probably. He told me once, but I wasn’t paying attention. He told me he understood why I joined the Saviors because I did it thinking about someone else. And that’s why he couldn’t do it. That he wouldn’t break for the same reason I did.”

Yes, she knows what Dwight’s talking about. At least, she knows enough. Over the years, he's provided her with enough information to know what they put him through while he was Negan's hostage. She never asked him directly. He told her what he wanted, when he wanted, as he healed. It’s in the past now. He grew up from it. He never broke because he was a man of honor. He loved his family, he would not betray any of them.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’m following. And I need to get back to my family. What is it that you’re trying to say?”

Dwight looks at her like he’s confused by her confusion.

“Back at Alexandria, Aaron told me that Daryl didn't live there anymore. That he had moved to another community with ‘Carol and the kids’. It made me happy. When my son was born...When Finch was born, I told Sherry that I had Daryl Dixon to thank for it. Regardless of all the things that happened...I’m sorry for all I put him through. For killing Denise. I’ll never be not sorry. Daryl’s a good man. A better man than I’ll ever be. I’m just really happy that he got a second chance in his life too.”

Oh. Oh. She feels her eyes enlarging while he keeps talking, misunderstanding everything.

“Aaron told me that he left some weeks ago but nothing more. I would like to talk to him. I need to thank him. So that’s what I wanted to ask you. When does he come back?”

“I’m not Daryl’s.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“You got it wrong. I’m not Daryl’s. We are friends. We take care of Rick’s kids together. That’s it.” Her voice sounds angry and loud even to her own ears and she cringes internally.

Dwight creases his brow and looks directly in the direction where she knows there’s a framed picture of them with all the kids from the last summer festival. It’s a completely chaotic portrait of them. RJ is crying because he spilled juice all over his shirt two seconds before the photograph was taken. She’s trying to soak part of it with a few napkins, full mommy mode on. Jude’s mouth is open, caught in the middle of a phrase, trying to console him. Lydia’s the only one looking at the camera, smiling shyly, with a sorry look on her face. And he? He was looking directly at her, that adorable smile adorning his lips, handing her more napkins. The background is blown out and the image is grainy. It’s perfect.

“We are not together the way you think we are.” She says quietly, but firmly. “I don’t know when he’s coming back. But when he does, I’ll tell him about you and that you want to talk to him. I’ll tell him to go to the Sanctuary. I can’t promise you that he’ll go, but I can promise that I’ll pass the message.” This man needs to leave. Please, just leave.

He’s still looking at the picture. Slowly, he directs his attention back to her.

“Why not?”

“Why not what?”

“Why are you not together?”

She’s stunned. What the hell is happening? She had never talked to the man before and here he is asking her something that he hadno business knowing. Why are they not together? Let’s see. They’re not together because he doesn’t love her like that. Because he’s too good of a man for her. Because she’s lucky enough to have him in her life as it is. Because if he loved her he would have said something.

But you did, didn’t you? You said it and you wrote it down. And I don’t know why, but I know you. And you wouldn’t play with my heart like that. So...Does that mean…?

No, it doesn’t. She’s being ridiculous. She can’t allow herself to think about the possibility. Because she wouldn’t survive if she got her hopes up and he rejected her. Because if anything was going to happen, it would have happened this past year. And, again, because he doesn’t love her like that.

“He doesn’t love me like that”. She only registers that she’s said it aloud after it’s out.

Dwight glances at the picture again. Sighs. “Well, I don’t know why he left and if it has anything to do with you two. But maybe...Look, Daryl told me to go and find Sherry. That’s what he wanted for me. That’s what I want for him too. You should go and find him too.” He nods to her once and leaves, closing the door behind him and leaving her completely thunderstruck.

____________________________

47 days.

Dwight, Aaron and everyone else are finally gone. The Sanctuary is officially part of the CW’s network. In two weeks she’ll travel there with Mercer to assess what they need and what they can do to contribute. How wonderful! She never looked forward to anything so eagerly. She’s fine.

48 days.

The kids are sleeping over with Eugene and Maxxine because they need help with their science fair projects. She misses him like crazy. She cries herself to sleep while hugging his letter.

49 days.

She’s dreading the fifty-day mark so much that she tells Ezekiel she needs a break and spends the entire day hiking in the woods beyond the walls. She stops by a creek around midday and lights a cigarette and it’s like he’s there and she laughs and she cries and she feels like her mind is shattering because she’s thinking absurd thoughts and her heart is beating completely out of rhythm and reaching out to him wherever he is and she can’t pretend anymore that she doesn’t love him with all she has and she has loved him for a long time now.

I love you. I do. I do. I love you.

She thinks about him. How he looks at her when the first rays of light touch her hair during their morning walks with Dog. Them becoming a unit at the prison. And then becoming strangers in Alexandria. Him saying he would never hate her, even when she thought she had ruined his chances of happiness. (How many times he said to her it wasn’t like that with Connie and she refused to listen? God.) The Cherokee Rose and the beer bottle. Hunting together while she was a pretend queen and he was king of the woods. Locking eyes with him across rooms and instantly knowing how he felt about something. Getting her heart wrecked when they fought in the cabin. Kissing his forehead, mindful of his stitches. Being held by him when she lost both her children. Riding the bike to escape death but, mostly, to experience life. Following his light.

And I think...I think you might love me too.

50 days.

She doesn’t understand how she stepped out for one single day and there are six new reports on her desk to read and sign. It’s ridiculous, to say the least. She’ll have to skip dinner to get it done or stay up to 3am again. At least there are leftovers in the fridge.

“Excuse me, miss deputy secretary?” Lucy, Communications intern, is at her office’s doorstep. “You’ve got a call over the radio. The connection is terrible, but apparently it’s mister Dixon.”

Her heart drops all the way through her stomach and she nearly knocks the girl over in her rush to run out of the room toward the communications office, which is two flights of stairs up. She doesn’t even register who’s operating the radio before picking it up.

“Hello! Are you there?”

A beat.

“Hello! Hey! It’s me.”

Oh my god.

Relief rushes through her veins so fast she feels dizzy. “Daryl!” She reminds herself to breath. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I have a radio here. I thought, what the hell? How you doin’?”

I love you.

“Where’s there?”

“I’m in Maine, by the coast. Everything good there?”

No. I realized I love you and I’m completely losing my mind.

“Yeah, you know, pretty quiet here.”

Liar.

“Quiet’s good. You okay?”

He deserves the truth. At least a little bit of it. “Yeah. Just takes some getting used to, that’s all.”

I miss you. Daryl. I miss you.

Another beat. Dammit. She shouldn’t have said anything.

“You sure you’re okay?”

I‘m not. I’m daring to wish for things that I shouldn’t.

She thinks for a second. She doesn’t want him to worry. Worry gets you distracted. Distracted gets you killed. And she needs him to come back.

Come back to me.

“You never have to worry about me, Daryl. How is it out there?”

“I’ll tell you all about it when I see you. I’m just gathering up some fuel. I’ll be there in about a week. I promise.” Shit. He’s worried. Shit! But she can’t find in herself to care too much about it right now because he’s coming back.

You’re coming back?

“Copy that. Hey, Daryl?”

You’re coming back.

“Yeah?”

I love you.

“Dwight came back.” That was not something he needed to know while on the road. She’s overwhelmed and not thinking throughout.

“Who came back? Carol? W…”

The interference sound gets too loud and she can’t hear him anymore. Maybe she got cut on his side too because he didn’t get what she said last. But he heard enough.

“Daryl? Can you hear me? Daryl? Dwight. Dwight came back. Daryl?”

“We lost the signal, miss.” Says the radio operator, shutting it down, before she’s ready to accept that their conversation his over.

She feels her eyes watering and has to rapidly blink to avoid crying. Say thanks to the operator and slowly but surely gets back to her office. Shuts and locks the door for good measure. With shivering fingers, she grabs the framed picture from her bookcase and looks at it. Looks at him. Really looks at him. There it is. The same look she sees every day when they walk with Dog. The same look he had when he said he loved her, fifty days ago. A look he’s been giving her for years now. Maybe since the beginning of them.

You do love me...don’t you?

He’s coming back. In a week, he’ll be back. She has seven days to prepare herself, so when he gets here she can tell him that she loves him too. Without giggling, without shrugging, without doubt. Seven days. She can wait. Seven days are nothing compared to all the days that they’ve already lived and those that will come. Hopefully. She’s fine. She can wait. They had enough bad timing. Time to get back to work. Those reports won't read themselves.

#caryl #caryl fanfic

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