Disclaimer—Recognizable characters belong to Robert Kirkman, Tony Moore, and Charlie Adlard. No copyright infringement intended. Any similarity to events or persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
Author's Notes—Because I need yet another fandom like I do a hole in the head... naturally, I found one. Also, I hate zombies. Hate them. I usually watch this show with my eyes covered. What am I doing here? Yeah, I keep asking myself that. I do enjoy the interpersonal drama when they're not being hounded by the walking dead, so I keep coming back against my better judgment. This is for my dear sister, Raevon. Luvya, Sis. :) Monstrously HUGE thank you to BigBadJayne for his expertise in beta-reading. All errors are mine.
I am so thankful for my fandom family. Truly blessed.
Spoilers—Through the end of Season Two.
In Dreams—Carol lives in a never-ending nightmare... or does she?
Rush
She let her hand drift through the tall grasses as she walked peacefully through the serene field. Warm sunshine. She'd forgotten what it was like, to bask in the glow of summertime. It was like a whole different world, lush green surrounded her, dotted by the occasional tuft of pink, red, purple or yellow. She hated to pick the flowers that lined the field. Why take the beauty back for a brief time, when they might live on the whole rest of the season?
"Do you have to walk so slow?"
Carol smiled. "It's nice, just to take a stroll."
Full of boundless energy, Sophia sighed, taking exaggerated steps alongside her mother. "We've been strolling for hours," she lamented.
"And isn't it lovely?" Carol stilled, kneeling down. A caterpillar was in the middle of its tedious crawl up one of the wispy stalks. "See? Look what you'd miss if you were just running here and there, paying no attention."
Sophia crouched down by her mother. "Seems to me, he'd still be here when we came back, even if we ran as fast as we could for a little while."
She eyed her daughter, trying to be serious but failing miserably upon seeing sweet Sophia's smile. "There's no need to rush through life."
She keeled over in the grass. "There's no need to be a snail, through, Mom."
"What's so important, huh? Why do we need to run? Where are we going?"
The twelve-year-old sat up. "Does it matter, if we're together?"
Carol shook her head slowly. "You have a point there."
"So, how 'bout it, then?" Sophia asked, getting to her feet. "On the count of three..."
She pretended to ponder but, in reality, spent the moment admiring her daughter's spunk and vitality. Sophia was her beautiful angel, a darling girl.
The child huffed when it looked like her mother wasn't about to play along.
Carol got into position, resting her hands on her right thigh, her knees bent, ready to run. But, she took a mental picture, for later. Sophia's soft hair, her bright eyes, her playful smile. Her blue tee shirt, her favorite shorts.
She giggled. "One..."
"Two," Carol added only a breath later.
"Three!"
The cold breeze was like a slap in the face when her eyes opened. It wasn't summer. Her Sophia wasn't ready to race; she was buried back on whatever remained of Hershel's farm, swarming with the rotting, disgusting walking dead. A wave of nausea at the memory crested and crashed over her. Her reality was harsh, and the coming winter wasn't making it any better.
It was early still, just before dawn, when Carol pushed herself off the hard ground and got to her feet. Movement could help stave off the chill, get blood flowing back into her extremities. She absently rubbed at her arms, hoping the friction would speed the process.
The camp's watchman glanced over, the crossbow in his arms. Daryl had been enjoying the quiet. He much preferred the shift in the middle of the night, when there was little to no chance of any of the others waking. It prevented potentially awkward conversation, the morning pleasantries that he'd never found particularly useful even before the world had gone crazy. He braced for the greeting he just knew Carol would give.
She hadn't noticed him as she paced quietly around the tiny encampment, mindful of the others sleeping around what was left of the dying fire embers. Just as quickly as she had woken, she stilled.
Daryl narrowed his eyes slightly, wondering if she'd seen something. Instead of watching outward, he had taken only a few seconds to turn inward, but had that been enough for some shuffling walker to find them? He didn't see anything, not off where she was looking, not anywhere. He hadn't even heard any tell-tale signs of an approaching predator—dead or alive.
Just when Carol thought the sadness, the reality of their situation would weigh her shoulders down for the hundredth time, it didn't. Yes, it was cold. Yes, she was lonely without her little girl. Yes, evil lurked around every stone, every tree, every car. She lived in a never-ending nightmare... except for last night.
Mere moments ago, she'd seen Sophia, alive and happy. It had been warm and safe. It was life as she had wanted it. It was a perfect, wonderful dream. She hadn't had any of those, not since... not since before.
He wasn't sure if he should be alarmed further or relieved when he saw her smile. It was slow at first, tugging at the very corners of her mouth before blossoming across her entire face. Part of him feared what Rick had told them the night before, that they were all infected, that it was only a matter of time before they, too, succumbed. Maybe her odd behavior was the beginning of her end. A tiny fraction of him held onto hope that she was actually just happy.
It wasn't easy to be happy.
She began moving again, giving her arms one last swift rub.
"Y'all right?" he drawled, just to be safe.
Momentarily startled, she looked up at him, standing sentry atop the wall surrounding them. "Just fine," she said with a nod. "You?"
He gave a noncommittal shrug.
She took that as the end of their conversation, and that was fine by her. She gathered up the blanket she had slept on and under, taking it away from the rest of the sleeping group and shaking the leaves and dirt from it before carefully folding it back up, doing her best to remember every detail of what had possibly been the best dream ever.
Stay tuned...