I just want to preface this by telling y'all that I literally have Absolutely No Idea what the current Canon is, or anything about the new characters. I'm still in Season 5 and haven't started watching what I've missed. I'm running with this idea based purely on what I know from Tumblr and word of mouth. I know it might not make sense, but I needed it anyway. As is the usual warning, I don't own these characters.
Daryl had been the one to show up on her doorstep and tell her that Carl had been bit.
He'd come through, banging on the door, hollering her name, demanding that she come outside immediately. A small part of her was furious until she flung the door open and saw his face, blotchy red and streaked with tears, pain still pooled behind his eyes.
"We gotta go...Carl...he ain't gonna make it Carol."
She'd grabbed her bag and all but leaped down the steps, clambering quickly to climb on the back of his bike. He drove faster than she remembered, weaving and dodging the junk in the road, driving past packs of walkers like he couldn't see them. She didn't care. She'd do what she had to do, come saviours,come walkers, come the fires of hell and the devil himself, she was making it to that little boy.
And he was a little boy. Lori's little boy, Rick's, Daryl's, Maggie's, hers. They'd seen that boy through it all, watched him grow a foot overnight, thinning out and stretching up. They'd watched him toughen and steel himself, been with him through every heartbreak and every meltdown and every success.
She pressed her forehead to Daryl's back, kept her arms tight around him, fingers scrunched into the fabric of his shirt.
She did her best to fight the tears, tried her damndest to choke back the sobs but she couldn't.
She could feel the tension radiating from Daryl, could feel his anger in the stiffness of his back, in the way he kept his shoulders locked. She knew he was fighting back his own tears.
Everything they'd seen, everyone they'd lost, and nothing could prepare a single one of them for this kind of heartbreak.
They didn't stop the bike when they rolled into Alexandria, he ignored the guards, barking words she didn't hear at faces she didn't remember. He didn't stop until they were directly outside the house they'd shared.
She flung herself from the bike and bounded up the steps, Daryl hot on her heels, until she stopped, hand gripped tight around the door handle.
The thought hit her suddenly, like a fist or maybe a truck, straight to her heart.
What if they didn't want her here? She'd abandoned them.
Daryl seemed to know what she was thinking, didn't have time to humor the thought. He grabbed her hand from the door, drug her inside, steered her towards the room, he glanced at her through heavy eyes, not angry, but like he was growling at her. She heard it rattle through her head.
Cut that shit out and go see our boy.
No sooner was she through the door that she found Rick's arms around her, he reached back, grasped Daryl's forearm like he did, but didn't let her loose from his grasp. He was sobbing, a complete wreck against her neck, against her hair. She touched his face, ran fingers through his hair, sobbing with him.
"He was bit...he was bit...We can't..he wanted to see you..asked if you were still at the Kingdom..he-"
Rick blubbered, cutting himself off when she tore herself from his arms, towards the bed where the dark haired little boy-little man, reached out to her, whispering her name with small disbelief.
He was propped against the pillows, Jude curled in his lap like a little cat, sound asleep. His eyes were hazy, and she felt the heat of the fever strike her when she hugged him, wiggling up beside him on the bed, cradling him in her arms.
"Had to come and see what kinda trouble you'd got into…" she joked through a mouthful of tears, and she was so relieved when he laughed beside her.
The fever- this world -had yet to fully take him.
"You should see the other guy,"he laughed weakly, pointing his fingers like guns, making little popping noises as he did.
She and the others laughed alongside him for only a moment before they lapsed into pained silence.
She was aware of her family in the room around her, Daryl and Maggie sitting beside the bed, Daryl's head resting against her calf, where her leg dangles over the side. Maggie has a hand on her knee. Micchone sits cross-legged on the foot of the bed, her hand on Carl's foot through the blankets. Rick kneels on the opposite side of the bed, his head resting against his son's arm.
Their silent vigil persists, and Carol feels the sinking in her gut, the familiar ache and pain of loss.
Judy coos in her sleep, and Carl's voice breaks the silence.
"You'll have to tell her about the time me and mom got the Dodge stuck in the mud. When Daryl and T had to pull us out in the Blazer." He snorted, rubbing tears from his eyes at the long ago memory. He laughed and the tension in the room broke, and they all laughed with him.
She remembered, Lori was trying to teach him to drive, and bless his little heart, he tried and tried but couldn't get it.
Below her, Daryl snorted.
"Might as well mention that time you wiped out on the bike too. Damn kid you caint drive"
Carl laughed again and she made sure to soak in the sound, bottling it up for later.
"I remember that! But at least I didn't tuck my tail and hide when Carol went to chew us out for it"
"I ain't done it!" Daryl retorted, in mock hurt.
They all laughed, the sounds of familiar voices mingling together and rested easy on her ears. Rick looked up, snorted.
"Alright. Maybe I did," Daryl amended, "but no worse than you did when we found that skunk, boy" he snickered, and Carl ducked his head for shame.
"Skunk?" Micchone asked, prompting Carl to launch into a vigorous explanation of the very first time he'd gone hunting with Daryl.
There had been a bag full of squirrels, a slingshot, and a massive mother Skunk. Daryl had told him not to do it, he had, but the pig headed kid had done it anyways. Daryl had sat in the creek for hours. Carl had hidden from his mama and Carol, trying desperately to keep his now stinking hat out of her hands. They'd been able to sniff him out.
Maggie's laugh was the loudest then, remembering,
"Glenn barfed so bad as soon as they drug it up, thought he was gonna eat it!"
They kept going, kept laughing, remembering.
"What about the time Dad and Daryl knocked the beehive over?"
"Or the time we found that skateboard?"
"Oh yea! T Dog busted his nose!"
"Do you remember when you and T and Glenn got shit faced in that bar, Carol?"
She groaned, covering her face with her hand. She did remember, or, remembered waking up and hearing them all goad her about it.
"My favorite,"Micchone snorted, 'was when your daddy and Daryl tried to teach us how to ride the horse"
A collective groan. Daryl grumbled, rubbing his shoulder absentmindedly.
"That weren't no horse. That was a Damned hell beast."
More laughter.
More stories.
What had happened to them? What had happened to this?
This familiarity. These laughs. This joy. She couldn't remember. When had she laughed this hard? Her sides hurt. Her chest heaved. This was good.
They lapsed back into silence, this time was more companionable, softer than the time they'd been talking, Rick had climbed into the bed beside her and Carl, Daryl and Maggie had joined Micchone on the foot of the bed.
Carl had twisted himself to rest against her stomach. She had her arms wrapped around him.
She remembered this. She didn't say it out loud,didn't want to call him out, break this small sliver of trust he had once given to her.
They'd been on the road for a few months then, they were held up in a little house, waiting out a raging thunderstorm. Rick stood watch on the porch. Lori was asleep, just a few feet away.Something had startled him, a nightmare, a thought, something.He was afraid to go to his dad, didn't want to wake his mom, it seemed like it was the best sleep she'd gotten in weeks.He'd shuffled his feet against the carpet, hands shoved in his pockets,face contorted in aggravation and red with shame. He stood in front of her, unable to ask, but just hoping that she'd understand.She offered a small smile, her hand, held the edge of her blankets open and he'd crawled over, falling into a mother's arms. She'd shushed him to sleep.He'd crawled away sometime in the night, embarrassed to admit that he'd needed help with the nightmares.He'd smiled cheekily at her in the morning, she'd winked. His secret was safe with her.
It had happened in the prison too, especially after his mother. He'd needed her. Needed anyone. He was just a baby, Dear God he was just a baby.
They sometimes forgot, she knew. She had.
She fought back her sigh, her sob, didn't want to be the first to break this peaceful silence.
Daryl, nibbling on the end of his thumb, made eye contact with her briefly, but she ducked, unable to meet the sadness in his eyes.
Carl fluttered between sleep and awareness in her arms, the fever burned. It almost hurt to touch him. It wouldn't be long now. He must have known. He squeezed her hand, reached for his dad, sighed softly before he opened his mouth to speak again.
His voice was quiet, softer, like a whisper. She wondered if it was on purpose, or perhaps it was all the energy he could muster.
He looked at her,
"Hey Carol?" she hummed in repsonse, brushing her fingers across his cheek,
"Do you remember…." he hesitated, "do you remember, that day on the farm? That day, after Sophia…I said some really nasty things. Things I really really wish I didn't "his voice dropped again, and they whole room held their collective breaths,
"Yea baby, I do. And I forgave you. You were hurtin', we both were.." she breathed out softly, catching his eyes, trying to find where they were going.
"Well, I just...I think about it sometimes...especially now," he gestured towards the bites, and continued, even softer than before, "And I guess, I mean, I hope you were right. I hope I was wrong. I really just hope…" he sobbed, breaking off his trail of thoughts for a minute.
She choked back tears, he could have stabbed her in the heart and it would have hurt less than this. She remembered the conversation as though it had just happened, drawing him into her, kissing his head, trying her best to comfort him.
He'd talked about heaven, about somewhere to go when they were gone. She didn't know if she believed that anymore, but looking into his eyes-her baby-their baby's eyes, God she hoped that He had a better plan for them than this.
Muffled by his tears, he continued.
"I know it's gotta be real, it's gotta be true. I'm gonna find Sophia, then I'm gonna find my mom. We're gonna get everybody." He was crying, but he was stubborn. He kept talking.
"We're gonna sit around a bonfire, just like in Atlanta, me and mama and Sophia. Glenn will be there too. Hershel and Dale are gonna tell us stories. Maybe Beth...Beth will sing for us. Andrea and Amy...Sasha and Bob. I bet T Dog and Tyreese would be friends..they were funny…and Jacqui too. " all these names, all these faces, all this family that he'd lost. They were somewhere better, and he'd join them tonight.
That had to be how the world worked now.
He kept rattling off names, growing his story, talking himself into believing it.
"I bet Merle will be there too Daryl, him and Abe seemed like they'd have gotten along."
Daryl made a strangled noise, somewhere between a sob and a snort.
"You bet so, little brother? If he his, you give him a swift kick in the knees for me. He'll know why...and you do me a favor uh, and keep an eye out for him, huh? And all the others. You're tough enough to pull it off."
"Yea I will. They'll all be safe now. Me too. We'll wait for you guys."
He drew his last breath in her arms.
Maggie scooped Judith up, grabbed Micchone's hand, urged her to the door.
The woman's face was contorted with anguish that Carol knew only a mother could huddled at the door, Micchone with a hand on Daryl's arm, Daryl reaching to her, fingers curled around her wrist. He urged her from the room.
Halfway to the door, she stopped, looked back. The knife shook in Rick's hand. Kneeling beside the bed, he dug the palm of his hand against his eyes.
She looked into Daryl's eyes, took her hand from his.
"Wait outside." She murmured softly, turning her back to him.
The door clicked shut, and she dropped to Rick's side, taking the knife from his hand.
He looked at her like he'd never seen her, curled his hand at the nape of her neck, whispered her name.
"You did it for me." She murmured softly.
He dropped his head,screamed into the side of the bed.
The knife weighed a ton, felt like an unfamiliar enemy, sitting in the palm of her hand.
He looked like he was sleeping.
She closed her eyes, tried to steel herself, block out all the things in her head, tried her best to ignore Rick sobbing beside her. Tried to ignore her own tears hitting the blade.
She closed in on the task before her, when another memory struck her.
She and Lori sat shoulder to shoulder around the bonfire, the stories around them went mostly unheard. They focused on one another, and the children in front of them.
Carl and Sophia had played hard all day, and here they were, curled together in a pile of limbs, resting in the collective laps of their mothers. Lori hushed them with soft lullabies. Carol ran delicate fingers through both heads of hair, whispered their names, murmured softly:
"Goodnight my little love."
For all the effort it took, she could have just stabbed herself in the skull.
She left Rick to his vigil. Stumbled out of the room. She didn't realize that the knife was still in her hand until Daryl pried it from her trembling fingers.
The four of them fell into each other, piled on the sofa like a bunch of cats, personal space and bounderies be damned.
She held Micchone, the woman finally busting, flood gates opening from behind her eyes. They cried together, knowing that this pain, the pain of being a Childless mother, of having the little boy turned man, wiggle into their hearts, plant himself there, grow roots.
She was curled almost on top of Daryl, one of his hands on her leg, the other on Micchone's arm. Maggie laid against Micchone. The three women had fingers interlocked.
She was sure they looked like fools from the outside, but she didn't give a damn. This weight-this comfort was something they all needed. It was something she felt like they'd all lost, all forgotten. It took her back to the winters they'd shared, adding more weight to the memories they'd dredged up earlier.
These people-not this place, not this world, but these people were her home.
When Rick joined them, they knew that, soon, they'd have to face the light of the morning, and the next great task.
Until then, he kneeled in front of all of them. All five of them were interlocked in this pain now. They wouldn't have to endure it alone.
They buried him at first light, laying him to rest with his hat and badge tucked firmly beside him.
Others came, said their goodbyes, whispered condolences.
Carol kept herself away from this. It was not her place.
Hours later, she and Daryl sat together on the porch steps. He rested between her legs, sitting one step below her, head resting on her knee. Her hand curled through his hair. They hadn't spoken in the hours since the night before, but she'd noticed the keen way his eyes had followed her, noticed how he'd somehow managed to keep a hand somewhere on her all day. She figured she knew why. She couldn't think of it though, not now. Her eyes were growing heavy, she felt him going limp against her. Exhaustion hit them both.
When Rick came to rest beside them, neither of them stirred, but a new sort of tension filled the air, sparking life back into them. Neither Maggie nor Micchone joined them. She felt like that was odd, but once he spoke, she knew it must have been deliberate.
"It's just us left now." His voice was haggard, sore from use. She took his hand. Daryl reached, rested a hand on his knee.
They knew what he meant. Maggie and Micchone were still there's. There were still others left, ones that mattered, ones that had been with them now through so much, but his words hit her in the chest. Daryl looked like he'd been kicked.
"Its just us now," he repeated, "you two, you were two of the first..you've been with me, we've been together through the lowest and the highest...We've fought and lied and died together so many times. We started this together…" his accent got thicker when his emotions grew heavy. He stopped talking.
Carol gripped his hand tighter. Found Daryl's hand too. Drew all three of them together. Met their eyes.
"And we'll end it together too. Come what may. Whatever happens next. We're in this together. We always have been."
When she said the words, she felt like some kind of weight, deep in her soul, had moved elsewhere, shifted.
Maggie had fallen asleep on the sofa, Micchone and Rick had retired to their room. She and Daryl were the only ones left awake.
She leaned against the wall, staring out the window.
She was keenly aware of his presence, inches from her. He alternated between gnawing on his thumbnail and balling his fists at his side.
After some time of this, she heard him sigh. She turned to him, found his eyes turned towards the floor.
"I can take you back, if ya wanna…" he clinched his fists tighter, drawing his arms up around his chest.
He'd been waiting for this. After the loss they'd suffered today, he'd been waiting beside her, patiently, to see if she'd add the insult to injury and tell him that she was done here again.
She felt the sting of tears in her eyes, wondered if she had any left.
"I still have preparations to make...my parts of the plan to inact...this war we're in...it hasn't stopped…" she trailed off, heard him huff, breathe in roughly, waited for an argument, but watched him deflate.
He didn't have much fight left in him.
"At least let me take you this time. Don't just wait until you think we ain't looking...duck out on us again. You said it. You said we're in this together so don't just...don't just take off like you just…." he trailed off and she could here the tears in his voice, watched his posture get smaller.
She couldn't help the small, cracked sob that had escaped her lips. She covered her face with her hands, breathed in, opened her eyes to find him watching her intently.
He thought she'd abandoned him, that she'd given up on him and tossed him to the side.
She wanted to tell him that it wasn't true. That she still loved him, loved Rick and Maggie and Micchone, Judith and the others.
But it was true.
She had abandoned him. She had walked away. She knew it. She'd been doing it for months.
She'd talked to him, when he came to visit her, thought that maybe she'd been able to make him understand.
He'd lied to her then, trying to protect her, like he was always trying to protect her, and suddenly she felt foolish. She wanted to smack herself, shake herself around, jumble all the thoughts around in her head and remind herself why she'd left in the first she couldn't. Because they didn't make any sense and she had been foolish.
She'd been afraid of losing some part of herself that she felt like she needed, felt like she couldn't live without.
She'd found it in the night, with her family piled up around her and they'd laughed.
She'd seen it in Rick's eyes when he rested his hand on the nape of her neck, Felt it in Micchone and Maggie's hands when they'd stood together over the grave of their child, their son, their brother.
She felt it again now, when the eyes of the man she loved stared longingly into her own, when his hand curled into hers.
The only thing she was in danger of losing was this-this love that she'd been trying so hard to ignore. If he hadn't come to find her, Carl would have left the world thinking that she'd abandoned him. If she hadn't found them in Terminus...If they'd never found the farm, never fought for the prison, never fought for each other….
So many of the what ifs and the how's ran through her head and it was like it all clicked together. That weight in her soul still felt like it could kill her, but now she felt like she understood it a little better.
Without thinking, she'd flung her arms around him, burying herself into the side of his neck. He hesitated for a moment before drawing her in, pulling her tighter,nuzzling into her. They would be alright. It would take time. But they would be alright.
"I don't want to go anywhere else. I'm 're here. We are here. We can't fight the world alone. I can't fight the world alone."
"Never had to."
Well, I feel like my heart was just yanked out through my teeth. I sobbed writing this. Maybe you guys can see my digital tear streaks on the screen. They might never ever give us anything like this again, but incase they don't, this is published here and on Tumblr. Happy Reading. RIP Little Grimes.