When the Dam Breaks
Clouds of red drew intricate patterns through the water as Carol adjusted her position in the tub and drew her legs to her chest. Her movement caused the candle to her left to flicker, throwing shadows all over the walls and making the tears on her cheeks glisten.
The dam had broken too soon. She hadn't been prepared. But now the consequences had washed up against the walls of Alexandria and Carol could feel them threatening to overwhelm her.
Another crack could spell her end.
The only way forward, the only way to survive was by working together to ensure that the walls would retain their function. But it didn't seem likely; not when the majority of them was terrified already, not when anarchy was gnawing away at what once had been a democracy, not when people chose to end their own lives instead.
She lowered her hand into the tainted water and then lifted it back up to scrub at the W she had drawn onto her forehead. It didn't want to budge, seemed to have marked her permanently and for everyone to see. Quite a blow for the woman who had wanted nothing more than to remain invisible. Another persona burned away. And who would she become next?
Despite the quiet in the room, the quiet in the house it was difficult to think. There was a deafening thunder rolling in her head that wouldn't be silenced. Too many things unsettled, too many open endings. And the only one who could help her make the noises stop was unaccounted for.
She couldn't allow herself to call it anything else yet. Death was not an option. Just like it hadn't been for Sophia. The possibility would only translate into reality when she saw it with her own eyes. Just as she had done with Sophia.
But she needed Daryl to stem the flood with her, to patch up the leaks that were appearing all over the place. Because in this sea of people he was her only true confidante.
Carefully she lifted herself out of the tub, her body echoing the trauma of the day. How soft she had grown in the short time she had reverted back to being a housewife and how harshly she was being punished for it. But physical pain was manageable; the emotional scars, however, ran far deeper. She had learned to adapt to them both. That was the burden of the living.
She pulled the plug and then dressed herself absent-mindedly, watching how the last droplets of red disappeared. If only the same could be said for the moisture on her cheek that always returned, no matter how often she angrily wiped at it with the back of her hand.
She had just blown out the candle and made it half-way down the dark stairs when she heard the commotion.
Gunfire, raised voices.
And just like that her worn-out body sprang back into action. Her hand flew to the colt on her belt while her feet took two steps at a time until she was out in the mild evening air, chasing towards the source of the uproar.
A crowd had gathered at the gate, some weary spectators, others with their weapons ready just like her, prepared to protect and defend their sanctuary at every cost. But the walkers hadn't breached the walls, nor had the wolves returned to finish the job.
She heard their names whispered in awe before she saw them, the survivors they all hadn't dared hope for.
The colt shook in her hand as she made her way through the group. Finally, she could see him - his face, shoulders and torso smeared with blood and guts- scanning the crowd for someone. His eyes were wildly searching, slipping from person to person until they finally landed on her.
They had been here before, at this very point and yet this time it seemed even more meaningful.
It was impossible to tell which one of them moved first, perhaps it was a mutual gravitation towards each other. But all she could remember were his arms around her body and her hand in his hair.
When they disentangled after a while, the crowd had divided into groups and the gap between miraculous joy and utter despair couldn't have been more pronounced. As they passed, Carol's heart went out to Maggie who was trying her best to keep a smile on her face while she embraced and welcomed back the people who weren't her husband.
But Daryl's weight against her tore her mind away eventually and she focused on getting him inside the house. They wordlessly made it up to the room she had claimed as her own and there she lowered him onto the bed.
He waited patiently in the dark while she left and then re-appeared carrying a bowl of warm water.
"Keepin' a low profile?" he asked, when she lit another candle.
"Mmh," she nodded and crouched down in front of him, dipping a sponge into the water, "we were ambushed…"
"I heard," he interrupted, his voice cracking, "was headed back here…needed to make sure you…"
The shadow of a smile flickered over her face before she brought the sponge down on his skin and began cleaning him up.
"I'm glad you stayed out there. Sasha and Abraham needed you. It wouldn't have been right."
"Screw right or wrong, Carol. I needed to know you were alive! That you were okay!" he said firmly and captured her wrists, bringing them to rest against his chest.
"When have I ever not been?" she questioned with a tired chuckle but Daryl silenced her with one look.
She tried glancing away but was always drawn back to his eyes that watched her with quiet intensity until the cracks she'd been trying to cover up re-appeared, bringing fresh tears with them.
"I did what I had to do…" she managed through the onslaught of raw emotion but even so her voice sounded bitter, "and they needed to die before they could kill more people."
If her actions had been just, why did they still make her feel so sick and wrong?
You don't have to kill. You don't like it.
Frustration ripped a growl from her throat.
How could Morgan dare claim to know her? How could he when she didn't even know herself?
Ed's wife, Sophia's mother, Lizzie and Mika's guardian, protector, killer. Those had all been her titles.
But now?
"I don't know who I am anymore…" she whispered and her chin trembled while more tears rolled down her cheek.
Daryl's arms hoisted her up; gently but with conviction he brought her to straddle his lap until they were chest to chest and their foreheads touching.
"You're Carol." He answered softly. "And you're still here and I'm still here and we're fighting."
His body was warm and his hand that trailed the length of her spine made her feel so cared for and alive that she could feel it right down to the tips of her toes.
His words in their simplicity broke her open but only to put her back together a moment later in a way that made her feel whole again until the flood that had threatened to drown her finally ebbed away.
Her hand gripped at the back of his neck and her fingers wove through his hair. And although they both knew that it wouldn't last forever, that in the morning the painful process of rebuilding their defences would begin, peace settled around them.
For now all she needed was him being there, holding her, loving her and she would rise again stronger than before.