Set post 6x13.

"Soon"

A knock on the door interrupted her staring into nothing from the couch. Reluctantly she stood up, the rosary tight around her wrist. Minding her bandaged hand Carol opened the door carefully.

"Hello," Tobin greeted her somewhat awkwardly.

A weak smile was all that she could muster, but that seemed to work.

"Hi Tobin." Carol looked at him expectantly without opening the door wider or making a step toward him.

"I…" He stuttered a bit. "I was wondering if you would like to join me for dinner." His nervousness was obvious and it would be endearing if Carol could care for that kind of thing even for a second. He seemed to notice her empty gaze. "I will cook for once. They say my lasagna is pretty good."

"Ok." She said wondering where the hell that came from.

"Tonight at my place?"

"Fine." She repeated hoping for him to leave her alone at last.

Tobin smiled happily. "Are you ok?" He asked, eyeing her attentively.

"Sure." A fake smile blossomed on her face as he finally left and she closed the door.

Perfect. Fucking perfect.


She looked in the mirror appreciatively. Maybe the dress was too much. Well, it certainly was too much. She'd found it in the closet a while back and tried it on on a whim - turned out the sleek red thing fit her like a glove. She didn't think she'd ever get a chance to wear it though. It wasn't like this chance was now, but here she was, wearing the dress and checking herself out. If there was one thing about the brave new world Carol actually liked it was the changes to her body. She loved how toned and slim she'd become - she could never boast a well-shaped figure, but now she was damn near perfect.

"Well maybe turning into a killing machine with a double digit headcount was a bit too much of a price." She murmured to herself and winced. It was too early, too raw. She was too raw. She stroked the rosary wrapped around her wrist like a bracelet and went on to change the bandage on her hand.


"Wow. Just…" Tobin's face lit up as he looked her up and down. "Wow."

"Well are you going to let me in?" Carol smiled, enjoying the effect. He wasn't her man of choice per say but he was sweet enough and it's been a while since she had a man drooling over her. A while as in she couldn't really remember the last time it happened.

"Sure." He stepped aside hurriedly. "Welcome. I'm sorry. I'm just… Wow"

"Good thing I decided against high heels." She passed into the cozy living room. "You'd probably drop dead and I'd have to have dinner with a walker."

Tobin let out a weak laugh, eyeing her. "Definitely."

Carol waited while he fussed and showed her to the table, set with candles and wine glasses. Inwardly she cursed at the reception of her joke. It was fucking funny. Had she said it to Daryl he'd probably give her the well-known embarrassed shrug and say "Stop" and she'd be pleased with herself and all happy inside. She was not amused now.

Tobin offered her wine and took the lasagna out of the oven.

"I hope you're hungry. I might have over advertised it trying to lure you here." He was charming enough. Probably. Carol tried to react normally, but this thing was proving to be harder then she expected.

"What happened to your hand?" He asked and her insides turned cold. All of it flashed before her eyes in an instant: the freezing floor of the room they were kept in. The searing pain from her body being kicked around by an angry motherfucker. The unsettling fear for Maggie and her child. The need to do something, to figure it out, to play the situation right. The horrible way she had to use her daughter's memory. The dead woman on the floor. The dead woman who'd had four children before the world went to shit. Daryl's fingers on her chin and his smell enveloping her. The shock of the man being killed by Rick in cold blood, the pain in her hand she didn't feel until much later.

"Carol? Are you ok?" Tobin's eyes were worried and she snapped out of her reverie.

"Yes…" she tried to even her breathing. "I'm sorry." She smiled as if laughing at herself. "It's not important."

"Ok." The silence was turning awkward.

"It's good." She praised the lasagna. She couldn't really focus on the taste at the moment, but she could see he put in the effort.

"Well I'm glad you like it." Tobin said and looked at her wrist. "So this is new."

She gulped at her wine, praying that he wouldn't ask about the rosary.

"Does it help you through it? The faith?" He asked carefully and Carol couldn't take it anymore. The whole situation was bizarre. This unsuspecting man had cooked dinner for her and was asking her about her faith while she was close to a mass murderer. It was almost funny to her - if he could only enter her mind for a second he'd be shocked out of his own. He had no idea. No idea.

"I don't think I can do this." She got up abruptly.

"So the lasagna wasn't good after all" Tobin attempted a joke, but she didn't have it in her to play into it so his words crumbled around them miserably.

She sighed. "I should go."

"I'm sorry if I did or said something wrong…"

"It's not you." She cut him off abruptly. "Really." Her tone was dead serious and he nodded. "I just… have to go."

"Could I walk you home?" He wasn't losing hope. Carol knew she should just shut him down, but she shrugged instead.


The air was chilly around them as they walked down the street. To a stranger's eye they'd look quite fetching - Tobin had cleaned up quite nicely, dressed in dark blue jeans and a formal jacket with a light blue shirt. Carol in a tight red dress and light sandals, her figure accentuated and her cleavage low. If it wasn't for a stark white bandage on her arm and the fact that they were walking next to each other, but not together, they could be mistaken for a normal couple indeed.


"I understand if you're not ready yet." He said in a soft tone. The tone and the words made her cringe. That didn't show of course. "I could wait." He continued when she didn't say anything as they walked on. "I will wait."

"No." She said as they reached her house. Reaching out for his shoulder she looked him in the eye for the first time that evening. "Don't," she said, trying to send the signal with everything she had.

She turned to leave when he stopped her.

"What if I want to?" He looked at her with hope and all she felt was pity. She wasn't sure who the pity was for though.

"Don't you get it." She whispered. "There's nothing to wait for."

He tried to say something, but she stopped him with a shake of her head, backing off onto the porch.

He left, then.

She watched him go, hidden in the darkness. She felt like with him it all went. The whole life she imagined for herself here, the whole idea of it. Just leaving quietly into the night, sad with the lack of understanding of why this strange woman with haunted eyes would reject it so fully, so irreversibly. Disappearing from view like it was never there at all. Carol watched it go and she knew she didn't need to say her goodbyes. She felt free for the first time since she entered that damn gate. She could finally breathe.

She jumped as she felt something warm being wrapped over her shoulders.

"It's cold." Daryl's voice calmed her down. She never heard him approach and she never anticipated his hands to linger on her shoulders.

She reached out for his hand then, brave and drunk with the newfound freedom. His fingers were warm and familiar, she'd held his hand many times over the years, but it was never this deliberate. She could feel his warmth behind her, she knew that a little step back and she'd be pressed fully against his strong form, in the arms of a new kind of life. The real one. Hers.

"Not yet. Soon." She thought and didn't make a move.