Yours, Mine, and…Ours?
xx1xx
There was a cricket in her bedroom, a very loud, persistent, perkily chirping cricket.
Carol knew she should have abandoned any pretense of sleep more than half an hour ago, but her exhausted body plainly refused to cooperate and follow her brain's demands. Instead, she stubbornly refused to open her bleary eyes, her pillow firmly pulled over her head in a desperate attempt to muffle the obnoxious noise while she contemplated various methods of murdering the needlessly cheery insect, should she ever find the energy to climb out of bed and leave her heap of blankets behind. Her traitorous bladder finally compelled her to fling her pillow aside, and Carol groaned as she pushed herself up on her elbows.
Unexpectedly harsh sunlight spilled in through her new bedroom's tiny, unadorned window.
"God, what time's it?" Lifting a shielding hand to her brow, she frowned and fumbled for the phone she'd finally exiled to the night stand around three in the morning after a marathon session of texting with Andrea. When her bloodshot eyes finally made out the time, she bolted out of bed and snatched yesterday's jeans off of the floor, her daughter's name erupting from her lips in a panic. "Sophia! Sophia, wake up! Mommy overslept!"
The en suite bathroom was cramped and disorganized, the air stale despite the good scrubbing she'd given it with bleach the day before. Her meager supply of cosmetics was scattered across the counter and a pile of dirty laundry mocked her from the corner.
Carol barely spared her appearance a second glance, stowing a tube of lip gloss into her back pocket before jamming her toothbrush into her mouth. Stuffing her bare feet into a tattered pair of sneakers, she hurried through her bedroom, pulling the first relatively unwrinkled shirt she found from a cardboard box and shrugging it on over the thin camisole she'd slept in.
Sophia's bedroom was empty, the little lamp beside her bed still slowly rotating and casting faint constellations across the ceiling.
Carol crossed the room to turn it off, bending to snag the tiny pink backpack from her daughter's butterfly chair and zipping it closed. The bathroom across the hall was likewise empty, and she paused long enough to rinse the toothpaste from her mouth and gather her hopeless tangle of curls into a loose ponytail with one of Sophia's hair ties. "Sophia? Sophia, sweetie? We're running late. Mommy really needs you to…" The words on the tip of her tongue faded away when she reached the living room.
Curled up pretzel tight before the television where cartoon Alice's tears were currently rising like an ocean's tide, Sophia clutched a bowl of soggy cereal in her hands, fat tears of her own rolling down her freckled cheeks. Her neatly brushed pigtails were crooked, and she wore her favorite fairy costume, complete with purple ballet flats. She whimpered and tucked her chin close to her chest when Carol set the bowl aside and turned the television off with one touch of the remote. "I don't wanna go," she pleaded pitifully. "Don't make me go, Mommy."
"Oh, Sophia," Carol sighed, gently knuckling the hot tears away. "We talked about this." They had, just like they'd talked about everything, in terms suited to a six year-old at least. The divorce Sophia had taken in stride, had quickly adapted to with more than her fair share of relief, really. The new apartment she'd treated as an adventure. But the idea of a new school, without any of her old friends? It looked like Carol had finally found her daughter's breaking point, and anytime her baby girl cried, her heart broke as well. She felt tears well in her own eyes as she tried to be reassuring when she felt so adrift herself. "You're going to make lots of new friends. You remember Andrea's sister? She helped out last semester for credit in one of her classes. She liked it so much she wants to get a job there when she graduates. She said everyone was nice. The nicest. Besides, I know they're going to love you. How could they not?"
"You have to say that 'cause you're the mommy," Sophia pouted.
"Nope," Carol teased with a bright grin that made her damp eyes overflow. "I say it because I'm the bonafide Sophia expert. I say it because you're beautiful and smart and funny and you really know how to rock a tutu."
Sophia giggled, her cheeks flushing with pleasure instead of tears. "Mommy."
"Sophia," Carol singsonged back, blue eyes twinkling as she pulled the little girl to her feet and did a quick visual inspection. Her lips twitched as she made her decision. She likely wouldn't win the favor of many, if any, of her fellow PTA members letting Sophia leave the house dressed as she was, but that didn't matter so much to her as her daughter's happiness. She was tired of worrying about what other people thought, and she knew Sophia wouldn't stay this little and innocent forever. She quirked a brow at her daughter and motioned for her to turn around, helping her slip the backpack over her narrow shoulders. Leaning down, she laughingly whispered into Sophia's ear. "No time to say hello, goodbye." Sophia's answering giggles were precious music to her ears.
"We're late, we're late, we're late!"
Principal Jacqui, as she'd introduced herself, was warm, gracious, and instantly made Sophia feel welcome, fussing over her costume and inquiring after Tinker Bell, her most favorite fairy of all fairies.
Carol wanted to hug her for putting a smile on her baby girl's face, an urge she found increasingly hard to contain as the pair engaged in a lively debate on the subject. She knew she'd done a poor job of concealing her emotions when the thin woman stood tall and took Sophia by the hand, leading her toward her office's open door.
"Now then, Little Miss. Why don't you keep Olivia company while I talk over a few things with your mama?"
Sophia glanced warily over her shoulder, for Carol's permission or comfort, she wasn't sure which. The friendly secretary, though, easily won her over, and her daughter's little hand flapped at her in goodbye as the door closed behind the twosome, their voices muffled but still audible.
"I like your glasses."
"Why thank you," Olivia could be heard responding, obviously pleased. "Would you like a cookie, Sophia? I have a secret stash."
"Olivia doesn't offer her chocolate to just anyone, Mrs. Peletier. Your daughter must be special indeed," Principal Jacqui laughed softly. Quickly sobering at the tearful smile she received for the comment, she came around to the front of her desk and pulled the chair next to Carol around until they were facing each other, engulfing her chilled hands in her own warm ones and squeezing them softly.
"Please," Carol sniffled. "Call me Carol."
"Only if you call me Jacqui."
Carol beamed at her. "My lawyer said this school was one of King County's best. I think I can see why. You really care, don't you?" She gently dabbed at her tears with the Kleenex offered to her, murmuring her thanks.
"Andrea's a dear friend," Jacqui replied with an answering smile. "And we aren't just one of the best schools in King County. We're the best school in King County. There isn't one member of my staff that I wouldn't trust with my baby boy. Course, my Noah's a junior at the high school now, not so much a baby anymore. They grow up so fast, Carol. Too fast. That's why I fully support letting them be little. If Sophia wants to come to school dressed as Cinderella tomorrow, she has my blessing."
Carol ducked her head and laughed. "Sophia likes to play games on my phone. I haven't had it very long at all. Ed never allowed…." She swallowed thickly and glanced up, uncomfortable with letting such personal information slip, but Jacqui's expression hinted at only kind understanding. "I haven't had it very long," she continued. "It takes me ten minutes to type one text message, but Sophia has it all figured out already. She must have changed the settings on my alarm." Her lips twitched with a smile equal parts sheepish and guilty. "I plotted that nonexistent cricket's untimely demise for over an hour before I finally gave up."
Jacqui chuckled quietly.
"We were hopelessly late, and she was so upset. So much has changed for her, for us both, in such a short time. So when she wanted to dress as a fairy…"
"You let her dress as a fairy," Jacqui patted her hand warmly and reclaimed her feet. She turned and stretched her arm, inching a thicker than normal beige folder close with her fingertips. Opening it up, she perused the first couple of pages for a moment before closing it again and handing it over to Carol.
Carol felt heat creep into her cheeks as she scanned the file. Along with Sophia's past test results, copies of her vaccinations, and general information about her baby girl, there were notes, scribbles in the margins that hinted at a suspected troubled home life. The realization that her carefully guarded secret hadn't been much of a secret and her efforts had been little more than a smoke screen tightened Carol's throat with shame, and she found herself powerless to respond when Jacqui softly called her name. She closed the file, unable to stomach the black and white documentation of her failures as a mother, and folded her hands loosely atop it.
"May I be frank, Carol?"
Carol nodded tightly.
"When Andrea first contacted me about enrolling Sophia here, we had a long discussion. She told me about your ex-husband and your long history of domestic abuse. She explained Sophia's trust issues with men. She never meant it as a betrayal of your confidence," Jacqui calmly told Carol when she attempted and failed to hide her surprise. "She thought I could help you better if I knew the whole story, and I feel like she did the right thing telling me what she did. Ed Peletier was, no Ed Peletier is, a scumbag of the highest order. Your daughter deserves better than him in her life, you deserve better than him in your life, and you should be commended for the steps you've taken toward a better path."
"Thank you," Carol hoarsely offered, pushing a stray curl behind her ear with shaking fingers.
Jacqui acknowledged her gratitude with the slightest of nods. "That being said, I think we would both agree Sophia needs to learn not all men are cut from the same mold. That's why I've taken the liberty of placing her in Mr. Williams's class. He's a favorite amongst the faculty and children alike." When Carol looked like she was going to protest, she rushed to explain, "He might come across as intimidating to her at first. He used to play in the NFL. But he's nothing more than a giant teddy bear, and you can tell him I said that. The man has a marshmallow heart, and it's my personal opinion that he's an excellent candidate to teach Sophia. In more ways than one," she stated pointedly. Before she could say anything more, the phone on her desk rang, Olivia's extension lighting up, and Jacqui stabbed at it with a manicured fingernail.
"He's here," the secretary's voice crackled over the speaker.
"The man also has impeccable timing," Jacqui disconnected the phone with dancing eyes. "Come with me. I'll make the introductions."
True to Jacqui's description, Tyreese Williams was a giant among men, a gentle giant if his first interaction with her daughter could be taken at face value. Some long buried instinct told Carol it could. She couldn't help but smile when the big man squatted in front of her daughter and offered up his mammoth paw of a hand.
"Enchanted to meet you, my fairy princess. I'm Mr. Williams."
"My name's Sophia," Sophia all but whispered, knotting her fingers together and pressing them into the folds of her colorful skirt. Her eyes never left her feet as she leaned heavily into Carol's side.
Warm brown eyes shifted their focus to her, and Carol's smile widened, a pink blush blooming on her cheeks as that same hand closed around her own and a gentlemanly kiss was pressed against her cool flesh.
"Enchanted to meet you as well, Fairy Princess Sophia's mother."
He gave her a sly wink over the top of Sophia's head when her daughter tried to muffle her giggles against the worn fabric of her shirt, and Carol exchanged a thankful look with Jacqui at the welcome sound. "Just Carol."
"Just Carol," Tyreese mulled it over appreciatively. "I like it. It has a nice ring to it."
"No," Sophia rebutted with bright eyes. "Her name is just Carol."
The corners of the teacher's mouth curled suspiciously, but he kept a straight face as he shrugged and knowingly replied, "Just Carol."
Sophia groaned, but a helpless giggle slipped free at the unrepentant, teasing grin on the man's face. "You're being silly."
"I'm being silly," Tyreese echoed in agreement, climbing to his feet and offering his big hand to Sophia once more. "That a problem, Fairy Princess Sophia?"
Sophia threw her head back in exaggerated exasperation, but there was a matching grin on her face when she fitted her tiny hand in the hand presented to her. "It's just Sophia."
"I think Just Sophia's a lovely name, my fairy princess. C'mon. There's somebody I want you to meet. Batman's visiting our class today."
Carol watched until the figures of her tiny daughter and the towering man disappeared from sight then she thanked Jacqui again. Call it a gut feeling, but something told her it wouldn't be the last time.
Once Sophia was settled and her short pick up list noted, approved, and filed safely in Olivia's tall filing cabinet, Carol found herself at the community college in the next town over, a pitiful stack of papers constituting the totality of her previous (all too brief) college experience sitting across from her in the passenger seat. A peek in her rearview mirror confirmed what she already knew; her hair was still a hopeless case. Taking it down, she hastily finger combed it and coiled the curls into as tight of a bun as she could manage before replacing Sophia's hair tie and biting her lip at her harried appearance. Dark circles ringed her eyes, and her naturally fair skin was unusually pale in the afternoon sun, making her normally faint freckles more prominent. Frowning disappointedly, she dug the forgotten lip gloss out of her pocket and attempted to paint some life (and some much needed confidence) back into her downtrodden countenance. One more look in the mirror and a sigh of disappointment and Carol was pushing the door open, pulling her purse onto her shoulder.
The Registrar's Office was buzzing with activity, students freshly out of high school everywhere, in every line.
Looking at their baby faces, Carol felt ancient, old enough to be a mother to more than one of them despite the fact that she was barely a decade their senior. The majority of them had their noses buried in their phones; a few sported vacant, near zombified stares, their disinterest and fatigue with the whole process plain. Carol questioned her own sanity waiting in the snail-like line. She despaired of ever making it back in time to pick Sophia up from school and nearly relinquished her place more than once. When she finally made it to the head of the line, she was sorely disappointed.
"I'm sorry, Ma'am. Truly, I am. But there's nothing I can do. I don't have a record of your admission, and until I do…" the mousy woman trailed off meaningfully, peering over her spectacles with squinty slate eyes.
Carol's eyes briefly fluttered shut, and she clutched her transcripts to her chest. "There must be a mistake. Dean Horvath…"
"I suggest you speak to Dean Horvath then," the woman interjected with a trace of irritability in her tone. "Now please step aside. As I'm sure you've noticed, we are very busy today. Next," she called loudly, dismissing Carol without a second thought. "Your name?" she intoned blandly.
Making her way back down the line felt like swimming upstream to Carol, and by the time she'd pushed the heavy exit doors open, the frustration she felt had her stomach in knots. Fishing her phone out of her purse, she swore softly at the time and dejectedly sought the stretch of sidewalk that would take her back to her car with tired eyes, contemplating the possibility that Andrea had been mistaken and things weren't as settled with Dean Horvath as she'd claimed. Carol hadn't taken more than two steps when she realized someone was calling her name. She gnawed on her lower lip, her brows pinched in question as an Asian student wearing a baseball cap jogged to catch up with her.
"Mrs. Peletier? Carol?" the young man queried, somewhat short of breath.
Still slightly confused, Carol gave a hesitant nod. "I'm Carol. Sorry. Do I know you?"
A small smile flitted briefly across the collegian's face before he shook his head in the negative. "You don't. I'm Glenn Rhee. I was behind you in line," he explained. "Look. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but I couldn't help but overhear what happened. I think I can help."
Carol's fretful expression softened into a smile. "You're sweet, Glenn, but I don't have the time…"
"Dean Horvath and I are really tight," Glenn blurted without his brain's apparent consent, his cheeks flushing immediately. "I mean I consider him a really good friend."
Carol's lips twitched at his awkwardness, and her blue eyes brightened; she liked this Glenn Rhee.
"What I'm saying," Glenn clarified miserably, rubbing his restless hands over the bill of his baseball cap, "is I think I can help. I know I can help. If you trust me."
Carol took pity on him and tucked her phone in her jeans pocket then smoothed out the rolled edges of her paperwork. "Introduce me to this really good friend of yours."
Making good on his word, Glenn had escorted her to Dean Horvath's office and the man himself had taken things from there, amending the paperwork error and doing much to ease her anxiety. The lovely older gentleman had spoken fondly of Andrea and her sister Amy, and before Carol had left his office with a stack of financial aid paperwork in her hands nearly an hour later, she was a newly enrolled part-time student. She was so happy she wrapped Glenn up in a spontaneous hug just outside the stately old brick building.
"You dating MILFs now, Pizza Boy? Wait 'til I tell Maggie."
"Can it Monroe," Glenn groaned, taking two gigantic steps back from Carol and looking anywhere but in her inquiring blue eyes. "And don't talk about Carol like that," he added as an immediate afterthought to his taller, more chiseled counterpart.
"MILF?"
The question caused the scarlet blush on Glenn's cheeks to deepen even further.
The reaction further endeared him to Carol, and she smiled gently at him while respecting his need for space. "Do I even want to know?"
Glenn vigorously shook his head no, shyly lifting his gaze to meet hers as she quizzed him further.
"Maggie your girlfriend?"
Another shake of Glenn's head earned another question from Carol.
"Do you want her to be?" She laughed softly when he caught himself mid-nod and looked at her semi-accusingly.
"You should rethink the nursing program," Glenn muttered, falling into step beside her as she searched out her car for the second time in as many hours. "Besides," he lamented in an equally low voice as they neared her embattled Honda, "Maggie Greene is way out of my league."
"Somehow I doubt that." Carol reached over and gave his hat a playful nudge so she could look into his eyes. "Thank you, Glenn. You've helped me more than you know. If I can ever return the favor, consider it done. Maybe a study group?"
Glenn's lips curled, and his dark eyes sparkled. "Two different majors. I'm a gaming nerd. Computer programming seemed like the only logical choice. Not likely we'll have any classes in common, but I'll be sure to let you know."
"Seriously," Carol said, reaching into her purse and tearing off the bottom half of her grocery list. She scribbled her phone number on the scrap of paper and folded Glenn's hand around it. "Anything I can do, don't hesitate to call."
"You don't owe me anything," Glenn protested, stuffing the number in his pocket anyway.
Carol's eyes crinkled with a fondness that wholly surprised her. "I'll be the judge of that." Taking her keys from her purse, she unlocked the car door and leaned lightly on it. "I better go. Sophia's school lets out soon, and I have less than an hour to make it back."
"Sophia your daughter?"
Carol answered in the affirmative, lowering herself behind the wheel and securing her seat belt across her slim hips before glancing back up at her newfound friend. "She's in the first grade."
Glenn beamed, looking more at ease than he'd been in the entirety of their short time knowing each other. "My youngest sister's not much older than her. First grade was the best. Things were so much simpler then."
A girlish giggle sprang forth from Carol's mouth, and she smiled indulgently, agreeing with him even though her own memories of that particular time in her life seemed so far away now. Oh, if he only knew. She wondered if he'd be lamenting his lost twenties when he reached the precipice of his thirties like her. Cranking up her car, she turned the faulty air conditioner on full blast. "Maybe I'll see you around. Bye, Glenn."
"Nice meeting you, Carol."
"Nice meeting you."
Sophia was chattering a mile a minute as they wandered the aisles of the discount grocery store down the street from their duplex, her play-worn pigtails practically vibrating in her excitement. "And then Mr. Williams told Penny Blake she had to sit down because her daddy ain't the Governor yet."
"Isn't," Carol distractedly corrected as she read the label on a box of fish sticks before grimacing and putting them back in the freezer compartment. "He isn't the Governor."
Sophia took a deep breath and continued her story, beginning with yet another iteration of And then. "And then Mr. Williams told Penny Blake she had to sit down because her daddy isn't the Governor yet, and she started to cry and Meghan Chambler gave Penny the last brownie in her lunch box."
"That was nice," Carol murmured, adding a carton of milk to their odd assortment of groceries. As a last minute addition, she plucked a cheap bottle of red wine from a shelf and tucked it behind the case of bottled water.
"Oh, Mommy," Sophia's brown eyes lit up. "Is that grape juice? I want some. Please."
The pouty lower lip made its expected appearance, and Carol reacted predictably. "Sure thing, Sweetie." Smiling and snatching up a small jug of grape juice nearby, she told herself the high sugar content, much like her swiped alcohol, wasn't such a bad thing in moderation. Neither was chocolate, she decided with a small shrug as they made their way down the last aisle, picking up a bag of chocolate covered almonds; at least it was dark chocolate. Who the hell cared anyway? Ed had never allowed chocolate in the house unless he wanted it, and he'd never ever shared. "What happened next? Oh, I almost forgot. How did your meeting with Batman go?" she asked, steering their cart toward one of only two registers open, the lines long and winding as a consequence.
'Batman's' real name was Carl Grimes, and in Sophia's own words, he was her new, "Bestest ever friend!" The boy's father was a local sheriff's deputy and that made him way cooler than Batman in Sophia's eyes. "Because policemen are nice, Mommy."
The comment earned them both a noncommittal grunt from the store patron in front of them that had Carol narrowing her eyes at the man's broad shoulders. "Yes, they are, Sweetie," Carol belatedly agreed.
"Meghan said her aunt Tara is studying to be to a police officer. Meghan said she was a puppet."
Sophia's innocent mix-up of words procured an amused snort from their fellow shopper, and Carol glared at his back as she edged her cart closer with the forward shift of the line. "I think your friend Meghan meant cadet, not puppet. A police cadet."
"Had it right the first time, Kid."
Caught off guard by the growl of the stranger's voice, Carol barely registered the fleeting glimpse afforded her of his blue gray eyes and the blond scruff of his chin. As it was, she managed just enough eye contact to shoot him a look of censure and refocused her attention on her confused daughter. Before Sophia could ask the questions just dying to spill from her tongue, she skillfully redirected her. "What about Mr. Williams? Did you like your new teacher?"
"Uh huh." Sophia positively lit up. "Carl said Mr. Williams used to be famous. I asked him if I could have his autograph. Mr. Williams just laughed and told me I'd have to wait 'til my first test. Then he told me if I was lucky I wouldn't get an autograph at all." The smile on her freckled face gradually morphed into a puzzled frown. "I'm not sure what he meant, Mommy."
Carol smiled, and her eyes unconsciously drifted toward the stranger again. A peculiar tingle swept up and down her spine then when their gazes locked, and she cupped her hand over the damp nape of her neck, glancing back down at Sophia in an effort to avoid staring at the attractive curve of his mouth. Any explanation she might have offered Sophia was lost when the buggy behind her bumped insistently against her butt.
"Wake your ass up, Lady. Line's moving."
Sophia's little mouth dropped open, and she stared up at her with round eyes. "Mommy," she gasped.
Carol reassured her daughter with a controlled shake of her head. "It's alright, Sweetie. Look," she pointed out. "We're next in line."
"Look, Mommy!" Sophia bounced on the balls of her feet as the rows of candy appeared before them. "Skittles! Can we get some, Mommy?"
Carol sighed. "Sophia." Out of the corner of her eyes, she noticed Mr. Monosyllable place a six pack of beer onto the conveyor belt and reach into his back pocket for his wallet. Her cheeks flamed as the action drew her attention to his narrowed hips and his tight, muscular backside. She was pretty sure steam was rising from her skin as she did everything in her power not to look directly at him; she had the sinking feeling she'd already been caught in the act.
"Pretty please?" Sophia entreated, clasping her small hands together and offering up her best, most angelic smile.
"Jesus Christ," the scantily clad harpy behind them put forth her two cents. "Buy the kid the damned skittles."
Flustered, Carol moved to do just that, inhaling sharply when a large hand covered her smaller hand almost immediately. Long, blunt fingers skimmed from her wrist to her fingers, and goosebumps erupted all over body in the wake of the careless, callused touch. She echoed Sophia's mew of disappointment when those oil smudged fingers stole the last bag of rainbow colored sugary happiness right from under her nose and proceeded to offer it up to the cashier.
"Would you like a receipt, Mr. Dixon?" the awestruck teenaged girl stammered, reading his name off of the piece of plastic in her hands before handing it back to him.
"Naw. Don't need no bag neither." Hooking his fingers through the cardboard handle, he tucked the six pack beneath his opposite arm and sauntered away. He'd taken no more than ten steps before he turned around and called out to her.
"Think fast, Sweetheart."
The bag of candy hit Carol in the chest before she had time to fully react, and Sophia's childish giggles were lost in the haze of the sexy smirk directed Carol's way.
"Next time you're buying."
"Goddamn," breathed the harpy.
Carol had to say she wholeheartedly agreed.
So...more than a week of struggling to get the next chapter of The Whisper just right produced this. I just started writing and kept writing and kept writing, lol.
I guess this fic is the manifestation of my own frustration that Carol and Daryl have yet to meet in my other story, haha. As I'm sure you've already figured out, it's another AU. I've already tweaked several things in this particular universe containing our beloved characters, and I can only hope the changes have been enjoyable to read.
Right now I'm going to set the rating at T, but there's definitely the potential for it to be upped in the future, so stay tuned.
Let me know if you're interested in reading more, or if this idea is a total bust. Any similarities to any other stories out there is purely unintentional and possibly unavoidable in the strictest sense because I have read a lot (a lot) of FF with these two and characters across multiple fandoms.
It goes without saying that any recognizable characters from TWD don't belong to me whatsoever and I'm only borrowing them for my own amusement. If I owned them, our baes would have kissed aldamnready.
Thanks for reading!
P.S. I'm not so sure of the title. It made sense for some of what I have planned later, but I'm not married to it, so don't be surprised if it changes at a later date. Unlikely but possible.