I wrote this little scene back in the spring. I needed to wrestle with Carol being in the ASZ again, even if momentarily. It didn't seem enough to publish, but I'm missing our show so much I decided anything could help in the drought.
Carol squatted and hooked her arms underneath the arms of the corpse on the ground. She knew him and wracked her brain trying to come up with his name… Neal. Neal and his wife Susan. From 3 houses over. Neal liked to listen to Garth Brooks and Hank Jr. Susan hated it. Carol recalled what details she could from a double date dinner with them a couple months before.
"Doesn't matter now. They're all dead," she reminds herself aloud. She shakes off the memories and starts to drag Neal's body to the pile. His 230lb frame barely moves as Carol tugs.
"Here, let me help." Carol doesn't have to look up to know who it is. With the extra large arms carrying the bottom half, Neal's body is carried quickly over to its resting place with the others.
"Still always picking the hardest chores, I see. Doing what needs to get done."
"Tobin, I…"
"No, Carol. I know. I saw your face when you returned from that kidnapping. You weren't the same. We weren't the same. And when I saw it again in Rick's face, in Aaron's, I knew what you were running from. What you didn't want to see happen here."
Carol nodded, she bit at her inner cheek fighting back the sorrow. "But it did happen."
"It did," Tobin confirmed as they stared at Neal's body.
Carol exhaled a sigh, "I'm going to check on the wounded. See how Michonne is doing."
Tobin watched Carol walk away toward the infirmary.
When Carol got to the infirmary, she found Michonne struggling to reach behind herself.
"Wait, I got it." She helped adjust the pillows behind Michonne.
"Carol," Michonne stuttered disoriented.
"Yeah, the Kingdom, Morgan, we made it. Almost too late," she added contemplatively, "but we made it."
"Thank you," Michonne countered.
Carol shot her a glare that communicated where Michonne can shove that compulsory appreciation. She hoped the stink eye hid the sting that she once again was outside of the group. She much preferred the expectation that she'd do what needs doing, as Tobin had put it. But, of course, it was that exact same expectation she ran away from weeks ago.
"You looking for Rick?" Rosita inquired.
"No. When was your last compress?"
"Maybe an hour ago."
"I'm going to stick some towels in the refrigerator. Tell Tara. Tomorrow, switch to hot, the both of you." There was silence for a while then Carol added, "I've missed… I'm glad you both are still alive. Stay that way. Rick will need you for what's next."
Her agenda of assessing their health and survival complete, Carol realized she had nothing more to share. She was more apart from them than ever. They had watched Glenn and Abraham brutally murdered. She had murdered several men on the road, been fed and attended to and lived in isolation, sheltered by Ezekiel, Morgan and Daryl, each in his own way. She felt sorrowful that her healing came with their great loss. She stood a while longer observing these resting women she had bonded with over her 2nd lifetime.
When Tara appeared with a few books, she nodded at Carol and went to sit by Rosita.
"Mystery or History," Tara asked Rosita, "its slim choices down there."
Rosita took so long to reply Tara thought she might have been asleep.
"History," she chose, faintly. She wondered if anyone else knew her selection was in memory of Eugene. She may not have killed him today, but only a traitor survived.
As Tara began to read aloud, Carol slipped out of the room and into preparations for what was coming next.