AN: Here we are. The last chapter.
Thanks to the Anon who wanted to see this. I'm not entirely sure it's what you wanted, but I hope that it was!
Thanks to those who read! I hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you think!
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Carol double timed her steps down the hallway toward the meeting room. She was at least fifteen minutes late to the meeting—maybe even twenty or twenty-five—but she had a good reason. The printer in the Center's main office was a dinosaur and the computer that connected to it was equally as old. She'd had to coax them to life to bring the documents with her that she'd promised to print for Julie. She stepped into the room, still sorting through the pages that were slightly warm to the touch, and glanced up only long enough to assure herself that she wasn't about to collide with someone or something.
"Julie? These are the pages...I think they're all here—yes...they're here. This is what you're going to have to take in tomorrow," Carol said, her head still down. She glanced up, silence surrounding her, and muttered an apology for the interruption.
Robert laughed from where he was sitting.
"No apology necessary," he said. "There's no better interruption than a job interruption."
Carol smiled to herself.
One more person placed in a position where they had potential to—if not grow—at least get back on their feet. Julie's apartment was working out well for her. The paperwork was in motion to get the divorce she ached for. The police were informed of her situation. And soon? She'd be a much happier person because the position would help get her off the financial aid that she loathed.
One more life, it seemed, could begin again.
It felt like the beginning, all over again, for Carol too. She didn't want to admit to any of them that every time they got the pieces to fall into place for someone else, it felt like they were falling into place for her again. She celebrated with them, even if she did it in silence.
Julie got to her feet and accepted the paperwork from Carol along with a quick hug. Carol didn't miss the dampness of the woman's eyes—a woman who a month ago had looked terrified just over having bumped into her in the hallway and had offered her a fake name because she was scared of anything getting back to the man she'd been married to for just shy of two years—and Carol offered her another hug that was just to say that she understood. When Julie sat, flipping through the documents that she'd take in to start her new job the following day, Carol took her own seat near Robert and begged, once more, forgiveness for having interrupted Miranda as she related what had happened in the week since they'd last seen her.
Carol was listening with one ear tonight, half her mind still on Julie and what the future might hold for her, when her attention was drawn by movement near the door. She turned her head that way and her stomach did an odd sort of flip.
Daryl hovered in the doorway a moment. He peeked his head in and looked around. He hesitated like he might back up—like he might leave. Carol hit her feet, at the same time Robert did, and they both waved the man into the room quietly. Daryl still hesitated, but he stepped into the room and muttered an apology to Miranda who excused him his interruption. Daryl sat, crossed one leg over the other, and bobbed his foot while he chewed at his thumb and listened to Miranda. He kept looking at Carol, but she wouldn't have known that if she hadn't kept looking at him.
When Miranda was done, Robert addressed her. She wanted something, but she wasn't ready to make a move. She was resisting them at every turn and Robert repeated some of the offers they had on the table for her—things to help her take that first step. It was up to her, he reminded her, whether or not she would take them. They couldn't force her.
And then Robert addressed Daryl.
"Welcome," Robert said. "Welcome..."
"Daryl," Daryl filled in. "I was here before. While back. Now—I'm—uh—I'm back."
He was back. He was back and there was something different about him. There was something different than the last time Carol had seen him stomping away from her porch. He'd had a haircut. That was the first thing that she noticed was different. His hair no longer hung down around his shoulders. He was still dirty—evidence of a long workday that may have been why he had shown up late—but he looked different in general. There was a change around his eyes.
"Do you want to talk with us tonight?" Carol asked, sensing it was her turn to speak.
Daryl cleared his throat and looked at the people in the circle. No one there was dangerous. No one there was judging anyone else. They all had far too much to deal with themselves to worry about the size of other people's problems in comparison. Daryl cleared his throat again and Carol wished she had water to offer him—but the fountain was their closest source. Daryl shifted around, though, and put both feet flat on the floor. He leaned into the circle like he might share a great secret with all of them. And then he locked his eyes on Carol.
"I don't know what I want," he said. "I don't know—what the hell I want outta anything. Nobody—they just ain't never asked me that before. But—somebody did. And I been tryin' to figure it out. I like my job. It's a good job. Don't mind goin' to it. Pay's decent. Could get me a benefit package, but I ain't filed the paperwork."
He paused and seemed to assess his audience. He'd find nothing there but people waiting patiently for him to say all that he had to say. He was new. He was sharing. They weren't going to cut him off, not even if he hesitated. Seeing that, he cleared his throat again, choking on air, and then he continued.
"I'ma do it, though," he said. "Fill out the paperwork. And—uh—got me a trailer. It ain't much. Out—out there—uh—do I gotta say where it is?"
Carol shook her head at him. He nodded in response. He was watching her more than anyone else. He was watching her to tell him that what he was doing, what he was saying, was good. That it was acceptable.
"Got me a place," he said quickly. "Ain't got—not much in it—but I got me a place. Just—uh—just me now. Just—figurin' out, now, how it is that I get...from here to there."
"Where's there?" Robert pressed. "Do you have a there in mind?"
Daryl shifted his eyes toward Robert and then he looked back toward Carol. She nodded at him. She offered him a smile.
"Are you safe?" She asked, softly.
His eyes darted around the circle again. He went slightly rigid. He relaxed back into it and bobbed his whole upper body as a nod.
"Enough," he said. "Pissed..." He stopped, but he picked it up again immediately. "Pissed off—people. Thinkin' I'm too damn good. I don't—though—think I'm too damn good. Not—not really better. Just—tryin' to..."
"Figure out what you want?" Carol offered, seeing that he was struggling. He nodded.
"But I don't know it all," he said. "Not right now. Don't—don't know what I want."
"There's time for that," Robert assured him. "There's time to figure everything out. And we can help you. You've got a new place. You're safe. You're employed. You can tell us what you need. We'll help you get it. We'll help you figure it out from here. We'll help you work through what you need and what you want. All you have to do is be willing to help us help you."
Daryl looked at the man and nodded. Then, he looked back at Carol.
"Yeah," he said. "That's—why I'm here."
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Carol stopped in the main office to leave some notes for Rhonda, who would be making some calls during the week, and then she phoned Michonne, her best friend and one of her biggest supporters in the past few years, to let her know that she'd be coming by soon to pick up Sophia. All her tasks out of the way, she swung by Robert's sometimes-office, wished him a good night, and finally left the building. The parking lot, outside, was still somewhat crowded. Some of the people didn't want to go home. Others stayed to offer each other private support and to share pieces of their stories that they weren't comfortable sharing with an audience. Recognized, and hearing her name, Carol waved at a few as she made her way toward her car with her keys in hand.
But she stopped, her car in sight, when she heard her name being repeated, each time a little more urgent than before.
And she turned to find Daryl, double timing his steps, making his way across the parking lot toward her. Carol turned toward him and offered him a smile.
"I'm glad you came," she said as he reached her, slightly out of breath.
"I thought about what you said," he said.
Carol nodded.
"And it looks like you're on your way," Carol said. "The first steps are always the hardest."
He nodded at her and looked around.
"Old man pitched a fit," Daryl said. "When I said I was leaving."
Carol swallowed and nodded. She wouldn't have expected any less. She didn't want to ask—because it wasn't her place if he didn't offer the information willingly—if anything else had happened.
"Merle—my brother? He's pissed...but...I kinda think he's gonna come around," Daryl said. "See him...see him at work, ya know? We work together and—and...uh...he weren't talkin' at first, but...kinda think he's gonna look for somethin' too."
Carol smiled and nodded.
"That could be good for him," she said.
"Old man—says he can't take care of himself," Daryl said.
"It's not your job to take care of him," Carol offered. "It's not. Especially—especially if he can't treat you with respect? If he can't treat you with—kindness? And decency? It's not your job to take care of him."
Daryl laughed ironically and nodded his head, not quite managing to make eye contact with Carol now that there wasn't an audience and half a room of distance between them.
"Still workin' on believing that," he said.
Carol hummed.
"That takes time," she said.
"Don't it all?" Daryl asked.
Carol nodded.
"It does," she admitted. "It all takes time. But you're—you're headed in the right direction. And it only gets better from here. One step at a time. It's only going to get better."
"Listen," Daryl said, "I wanted to talk to you."
"You can talk to me any time," Carol offered quickly.
He nodded and moved a hand to scratch at the back of his neck.
"Thing is," he said. "I—wanted to talk to you. Not—not in there. Just—to you." Carol nodded to keep him speaking and he kept glancing at her. There was something that was different about him—beyond the haircut. She still couldn't put her finger on it. Maybe he looked rested. Maybe he was sleeping more. He looked a great deal different than he had. She felt her cheeks grow warm, when he caught her eyes again, because she couldn't help but noticed that he looked a lot better. "Wanted to ask you—and I don't really know—but did you maybe want to...I mean I know you're busy with this and with...you work and you got the kid, but...did'ja want to maybe...have dinner sometime?"
Carol's stomach flipped and her chest caught. She swallowed, quickly trying to hide her own reaction.
"You mean—as a mentor?" Carol asked.
Daryl looked almost sick. He stared at her now. Either he'd lost the problem with holding her gaze or he was frozen to the point that he couldn't drop it.
"Was hoping not," he said.
Carol's stomach twisted a little more violently than it had. She shook her head gently.
"I don't know if—that would be a good idea," Carol said. She hated having to say it, but she knew that it was, more than likely, the best answer for them both. "I like you, and I would like to get to know you, but..." She hesitated. His expression was changing and she didn't like the change. The change that came across his features made her chest ache. "You really need to focus on yourself, Daryl," Carol said. "This time? Right now? It's really important for you. It's time that's about...you. About what you want and what you need...and..."
He held a hand up to her. The universal signal that she should stop talking and she was almost grateful for it because she desperately wanted to stop talking but she wasn't entirely sure how to go about it.
"I get it," Daryl said. "You—still dealing with you. And—you said you—well, you ain't there. And maybe I ain't neither. But—I'm talkin' about dinner. Food and sitting at a table and—there ain't no booze."
Carol bit back a smile.
"But not a date?" She asked.
He stared at her and clawed almost mercilessly at the back of his neck.
"Still figuring out what I want," Daryl said, repeating the mantra that they'd been through for much of the evening. "But—right now? I'd settle for—somethin'—somethin' that I just ain't had before. Dinner—not as no mentor. Dinner—as a friend?"
Carol sucked in a breath. She thought about it for a moment, but knew that her silence probably wouldn't be appreciated in the moment. It was a big step for Daryl, and that truth was written all over his face.
She smiled at him and nodded her head.
"I think—dinner as a friend would be nice," Carol said. She nodded again. "Dinner as a friend would—be great. You can never have enough friends."
Daryl smiled, clearly relieved.
"I'd settle for one," he said, some laughter seeping into the words. Carol felt her chest tighten quickly. "Friday?"
Carol nodded.
"Seven?" She asked. He nodded. He renewed the smile.
"Friday," he said. "Seven. I could—pick you up. Know where you live."
Carol nodded.
"I'd like that," she said. "Dinner. Friday at seven. As a friend."
He smiled again, quickly wiped it away, and nodded.
"There's time for everything else," he said.
Carol laughed to herself and tried to cover it up. She nodded.
"There is," she said. "There's time for—everything else."