Title: Contents Under Pressure

Fandom: TWD

Author: ice shredder

Disclaimer: nothing is mine, just borrowing for fun

Spoilers: Heavy ones for "East", "The Grove" and "Last Day on Earth" along with various hints at earlier seasons. Sensitive topics will include: depression, domestic abuse, and suicidal thoughts, so MAJOR TRIGGERS and SPOILERS ahead! Carol's reflections on the men in her life and how they helped her transform from a battered mouse into the Queen of Kill.

Summary: She never told anyone her dirty little secret to survival. How she was able to make the hard choices. It didn't lay in physical strength, but in a giant dam of swallowed tears.

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Carol Peletier was no stranger to the dark side of human nature.

In retrospect, since the world went to hell and the undead started to walk her abusive past actually allowed her to adapt fairly quick to the harsh kill or be killed world she and her fellow survivors found themselves thrust into against their collective will.

She sighed, staring up at the ceiling of her small room as she recovered from her injuries-a classroom in an abandoned school-in yet another safe zone whose name she couldn't bother to recall at the moment. She sighed, releasing a heavy, annoyed breath at her current predicament. Safe zones were nothing more than glorified cages. Something she'd grown to despise ever since setting foot in Alexandria with Rick and the rest of the group.

And that damn Morgan following her around, practially ordering her that he was going to return her to Alexandria at dawn when he found her a bloody, shivering mess in front of the Library...like she was some damsel in distress and not a strong, independent woman capable of taking care of herself...was really pissing her off.

Carol bit the inside of her cheek, resisting the urge to curse out loud. Seriously, who the hell does he think he is? I'm not some errant child he can just drag back by the hand and return me to the fold. I am a grown ass woman who can fend for herself. I made my decision and he just can't accept that.

She felt her thoughts drifting, lulled to sleep by the cool evening air and the semi-darkness of the room. Three years ago she would've instantly agreed to go back with Morgan and not cause a fuss. Well, her old abused self would've gone. But not the killer that had taken over her completely. She was very careful to keep the gypsy man at arms length simply because she'd had her fill of men trying to push her around-thanks to her desceased husband-and she wasn't about to go back to that place of helplessness. Nor was she going to waste time entertaining his pacifist nonsense of all life being precious.

She hoped him having to kill that Savior as he threatened to put her out of her misery was a huge step in destroying such foolish thoughts. At any rate, his refusal to let her kill the Alpha Wolf during the walker invasion-along with her gradually deteriorating mental state-was another big reason she was out here to begin with. So he had no business telling her what to do-

...

The slap of wet laundry echoed on the quarry rocks as she helped Lori, Andrea and a few other of the women as they washed everyone's clothes. She found small comfort in the mundane task however. Ed would find fault with how she did things and leave her with a fresh batch of bruises. Then she would tearfully apologize promising she'd never do it again. Ed Peletier was strong, but he was a living example of strength gone bad.

Andrea stepped in between her and her husband's wrathful face and dagger-like words, calling him out on his cowardice. Carol felt herself stiffen at the young woman's confrontational tones. Mentally pleaded with her not to raise her voice. Ed hated it when someone remotely challenged his authority and the blonde was doing just that.

So when Shane Walsh dragged him off her trembling body after landing several hard blows to her face and proceeded to beat him in front of the entire camp, she was terrified. But at the same time, a tiny seed of hope was planted.

She learned that day, strength gone unchecked was a deadly weapon. But Shane showed it could be used to protect the people you cared about.

The walker attack on the camp was a blessing in disguise. She felt horrible about the carnage the monsters wreaked on the living. But when she drove that ax into her abusive spouse's chalky white face over and over and over again, she felt a sense of closure and peace.

Not all monsters were the most obvious ones-

Carol shifted around a bit. Tried to reposition herself without opening her eyes or aggrivating her wounds. Memories of the earliest days following the mysterious outbreak flickered behind her eyelids, making her long for the good old days where everything seemed a whole hell of a lot simpler. It was a strange feeling, that the thought of fighting through hordes of ravenous undead could be considered halcyon.

But she preferred the mindless slaughter of roamers compared to the crippling guilt and despair of taking a living person's life.

She never told anyone her dirty little secret to her continued survival. Buried under layers of thick callouses that was composed of her rapidly dwindling humanity. How she was able to make the hard choices when they mattered. It didn't lay in physical strength. She was no Rick Grimes or Daryl Dixon. She wasn't a katana wielding badass like Michonne. She was a single ex-mother and battered wife who killed because it was the only form of control she had at her disposal.

It was a dam of swallowed tears that grew increasingly unstable by the day.

And she'd be damned if anyone tried to take that from her. Be it a friend or foe she refused to surrender her hard-won strength forged through blood and sweat and unbearable loss-

...

During their frantic search for her missing daughter, Herschel Greene's ancestral farm looked like something on a postcard. Rolling pastures. A worn dirt path cutting a swatch through the ground leading up to a beautiful aging two story farmhouse. To the road-weary travelers it was an oasis in a barren wasteland. In some ways, Carl getting shot by Otis was yet another disguised blessing. Their hosts were uneasy at the sight of their ragged, filthy crew but like the good country people they were, they gave Carl the medical attention he desperately needed.

But stress fractures that started forming since fleeing the CDC were rapidly splintering the group apart. Rick and Shane were at the epicenter, fighting for control.

Sometimes, she wished she wasn't so observant. That she could just close her eyes to the tension. Being married to an abusive prick had only heightened her senses to near unbearable levels. Carol was a mother at heart and seeing her adopted family fight nearly drove her to tears. They were risking their lives for a little girl they barely knew. Especially the loner redneck Daryl Dixon.

He was quiet and withdrawn, preferring to let his actions do the talking. It never ceased to amaze Carol how he moved through the woods with the fluent grace of a true hunter. What he lacked in social graces he made up for in his jack of all trade skills. It struck her out of nowhere one day when he returned an injured wreck after a failed day of tracking. Hunting game, or tracking through the forest, or tinkering with his motorcycle...those were the only times she believed Daryl was confident and knew exactly who he was. Outside of that, he was an engima she'd never get tired of trying to puzzle out. He was the epitome of a free spirit and didn't care if it rubbed you the wrong way. And she wanted to experience what that kind of strength felt like.

Slowly, she began to recognize a need in his soul that only the right woman could fill. If she was quick enough, she'd catch him stealing glances at her when he believed she wasn't looking. She knew what he longed for well before he became aware of it himself.

But she couldn't bring herself to kindle anything more than a deep familal bond with the archer. Having competed in the mature arena of marriage she had no desire to lead this man on in the pretext of false hope. He was emotionally stunted after a lifetime of being subjected to an absuive alcoholic father and a dysfunctional family home. She wasn't up to the task of entertaining his adolescent insecurities. And it was for this reason she purposefully kept her touches maternal. A comforting kiss on the forehead. A silly childish nickname. A huge bear hug when appropriate.

But that didn't mean she was completely heartless.

Carol was afraid.

Not for herself at first, but over the brutal toll the walker-infested world would impose on all of them. In spite of his rough exterior, Daryl harbored a sensitive spirit that would quickly get weighed down by guilt and despair if he wasn't careful. This brave, cruel world harbored no sympathy for the weak. It mocked basic human values. Made mercy a relic of the past. Scoffed at love. Laughed at concepts like justice and the rule of law. Everyone would do what was right in their own eyes. If that meant killing to survive, then so be it.

She noticed the way little Beth Greene darted covert looks at her rugged friend as she sang songs over the campfire where everyone was gathered. Saw the girl go out of her way to do little things for him even though the redneck was completely oblivious to her actions in his search for her daughter. Herschel's baby girl had a crush on him and Carol wasn't sure how to feel about that. But Beth wasn't hers. This was the end of the world. Relationships that might've never surfaced let alone form would soon become the new normal. So if Beth found the courage to tell Daryl how she felt, then who was she to stop it? Because with death around every corner there was such a thing as waiting too long.

The day Shane discovered the walkers in the barn was one of the darkest moments of her life. He yelled at Herschel and Rick that the things they herded weren't people anymore. They weren't sick. They were dead. That in order to survive they had to fight for it. And he backed it up by running towards the barn doors, breaking the chain that held the monsters back.

They staggered forward, clothes filthy and torn, rotted skin emitting that godawful putrid smell, their growls defiling the clear Georgian afternoon sky. Shane opened fire without hesitation, carefully placing his shots. She remembered how quickly Andrea, T-Dog and Daryl raced to Shane's side without questioning to assist putting the undead down. She briefly wondered if the group split, Shane would become the leader and those three individuals would form the nucleus of a brand new unit.

Shame filled her as Glenn joined the fray. As badly as he wanted to spare Maggie and Herschel, he couldn't shield them from the awful truth. If he could do what needed to be done, then so could she.

And then Sophia rambled out through the gap in the barn door, but it wasn't a healthy walk. She stumbled towards the group on uneven legs, the unmistakeable walker growl hitting them like a ton of bricks.

Carol blindly rushed toward her little girl sobbing brokenly, but Daryl grabbed her before she could reach her undead daughter. She wept as Rick stepped up, gun pointed at the only person who made life worth living, heaviness in his steps and pulled the trigger. She sobbed harder, fingers raking through the dirt as Daryl rocked her.

On that day, Carol Peletier stopped shaking. Her tears dried out. She'd witnessed a special kind of strength. Rick Grimes had the ability to step up and make the hard decisions when necessary, but that kind of strength came at the costly exchange of one's humanity.

And she wanted in. She was done being weak.

...

Carol wrapped her arms around her torso, still wearing Tobin's heavy work jacket. She inhaled the faint scents of fresh cut wood, grass and gunpowder and imagined Tobin was behind her on the bed, enveloping her with his work-toughened arms. It was the only piece of home she allowed herself to bring with her out on the road.

That was one of the few parts of this whole fiasco she hated. Tobin was a sweet, gentle soul and she didn't want to leave him without letting him know the reasons behind her departure. Hence the goodbye note she left on the coffee table before making her escape. She wanted to spare him as much pain as possible while still stating the reasons why she couldn't stay. Rick and the others had become cocky and lazy living behind the walls. Denise's sudden death was a brutal slap in the face, the wake up call she so desperately needed. The safe zone fostered a false sense of security and comfort, and she'd been foolish enough to believe they had the world figured out.

Besides, the place started to remind her of Tyreese and her adopted daughters and the beautiful grove where she shot and killed a highly unstable Lizzie Samuels who'd murdered her sister Mika in cold blood and threatened Judith's life. That gunshot haunted her every waking moment, further splintering the mental dam holding back her tears. It'd been the site of one of her worst failures to date and Alexandria's suburban setting made her tenuous hold on reality erode even further.

That and she finally started to question Rick's leadership skills. Granted he was able to pull them out of the fire multiple times, but she'd been the one who came through in the clutch. Living behind the relative safety of Alexandria's walls was turing everyone soft. Rick playing house and shacking up with Michonne set off alarm bells in her head. Married life was making him arrogant and enemies wouldn't hesitate to take advantage of that.

And Carol didn't want to stick around with a man notorious for choking on major crossroads decisions. It was a fatal flaw that would catch up with him in a bad way and she wondered why she didn't notice it sooner-

...

Carol pushed through the forest clutching baby Judith in her arms. Lizzie and Mika followed behind Tyreese as he led the women away from the prison.

'It's gone.' She thought as leaves crunched under her boots. Images of the prison burning, the group scattering, walkers overrunning the complex were permanently seared behind her eyelids. 'I can't believe it's all gone.'

She kept moving. That's all they could do at this point. Keep moving. She prayed they'd find shelter soon. Their little unit was far too exposed and walkers could pop out of the trees and attack at any second.

Then, just as she'd given up any hope of finding a safe port, they stumbled onto the pecan grove with the tiny cabin.

And for a couple of days she was a mother again. Exploring the small cabin, watching the girls pick their own rooms, her and Tyreese sharing the master bedroom. Like any healthy couple would've. For a short period of time, Carol could pretend that everything could work out. The cabin was next to a creek, so they had plenty of fresh water to drink and the pecans were in season. Just in time to get picked.

She inhaled the scent of freshly roasted pecans Lizzie and Mika had picked. With Tyreese out hunting bigger game it felt like they were on vacation out in the woods, staying in their family's log cabin.

Carol should've known it was too good to last long.

It all began going bad the moment she confessed to killing Karen and David one quiet evening sitting at the kitchen table with Tyreese, in order to halt the implacable advance of that horrible virus. Tyreese's shocked, angry expression would haunt her every waking move thereafter. She wished she could snatch the words out of the air and cram them back into her throat. Unable to take the cold fury radiating from those gentle dark eyes, she slid her gun across the worn grain of the table, encouraging him to take the shot that would put her out of her misery.

Then she closed her tired eyes and waited for the bullet she so justly deserved.

But it never came.

"I...forgive you."

Those were the last three words she expected to hear. But as she gazed into Tyreese's haunted, chocolate eyes she glimpsed absolution in them, the terrible understanding gleam that in order to survive, unthinkable acts had to be committed. Putting people down like diseased dogs to protect the uninfected would've gotten them charged as mass murderers under the old system. It definitely counted as unthinkable but now was a requirement to survive in this dying world.

And she'd been given something precious that night. Did she do wrong by his standards?

Yes.

Did he still view her as dangerous?

Probably.

But she stepped up and handled an unpleasant, yet necessary task when no one else would. He didn't have that kind of strength and deep down, Tyreese knew that.

Forgiving her didn't mean what she did was right in his eyes. It didn't mean she wouldn't carry the burden for the rest of her life. To him, that meant it was wrong. It mattered.

And he released her. Extended her grace when she deserved it the least.

She would cling to that after finding Lizzie Samuels covered in her sister's blood after murdering her without hurting her brain. That was when she sent Tyreese away with a rescued baby Judith in his arms. Rick and Carl would've never forgiven her if something happened to the little girl.

And she didn't want the big man to see her at her most vulnerable.

"Just...look at the flowers. Look at the flowers, Lizzie."

Her voice was strained and full of unshed tears. The gun felt heavier in her shaking hand as she pointed it at the back of Lizzie's head. Memories of Herschel's barn flooded her mind, of her walker daughter staggering out of that broken wooden door. She had become Rick without realizing it and that only lengthened the cracks in her mental dam. This was no stranger she was putting down, but one of her girls. No matter how unstable the elder Samuels girl had become, Carol always thought of her as one of her own.

Lizzie.

Mika.

Sophia.

I'm sorry.

Forgive your mama. I couldn't save any of you.

The single shot would continue to echo long after she squeezed the trigger, the ghosts of her girls eating away at her sanity but she wiped her traitorous eyes and swallowed back her sobs.

Long ago on a hot Georgian afternoon in front of the Greene's old barn she crucified her weak, crybaby self. The pathetic Carol died that day. She remembered thinking she was ready to acquire that pricey kind of strength Rick seemed to have in spades.

She almost left it behind at the grove.

But she couldn't.

It had become her greatest attribute. People counted on her to get things done. She could finally contribute to the group.

But the human psyche can only take so much stress and gradually, like quicksand her sanity began slipping away almost without her knowing it.

...

Carol sighed and rolled over onto her stomach, tucking her arms under the single pillow in a snug grip. She knew she couldn't hide in this room forever. Sooner or later she'd have to emerge and begin learning more about the Kingdom and its inhabitants and even more scary, her own damaged psyche. Morgan would probably be in her hair more than she'd be comfortable with and Carol wasn't looking forward to that at all.

So for the time being, she chose to act like a small child and delay the inevitable.

After all, she wasn't sure re-integrating with a society let alone her near non-existent humanity would be a smart idea in the long run.

That meant she'd have to face the guilt of the living she killed and she wasn't sure her fragile mind could handle the pressure.

It's not like most of the peace loving hippies she found herself surrounded by would fully understand the hell she continued to live through.

And if she wasn't careful, reopening all those festering wounds could drive her past the tipping point.

-end

A/N: Okay guys. I'm gonna be honest with u. This is my personal opinion so don't hate alright? We can agree to disagree but I'm not the biggest Caryl fan, just because 1: she's way too old for Daryl. 2. she comes across as a maternal figure for him-to me anyway and 3. it would be awkward at this point in the show. if-and this is a big IF Carol meets her comic demise or they remix it-come season 7 I wouldn't be surprised because with Negan in the picture no one is safe. And yes, I lowkey ship Bethyl because she was able to break through Daryl's walls and help change him for the better. that's what made her death all the more painful and Daryl shut down emotionally because of it.

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Thank u and carry on.