AN: Here we go, another little chapter here for whoever's reading. A lot more to come here.
I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
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Carol didn't mean to have as much information as she had on the rest of the group in the prison. The building echoed. Even when she tried not to listen? She still seemed to hear everything.
And, if she was honest, she liked hearing and knowing all that she did. Once upon a time, entertainment came in many forms. There were books to read and there were movies to watch. To escape a moment? She could live the reality of a fictional universe. She could contemplate the "what ifs" of people who weren't her—of people who didn't even exist.
But those things were gone now.
And, maybe, that's what the "gossip" around the prison had become. Everyone had a story. Everyone had their own interactions. Though Carol didn't spread gossip, and though she kept what she heard to herself—forever pretending that she was unaware that, if she could hear it, everyone else could probably hear it too—she listened to everything that happened as it unfolded around her.
She knew that Michonne and Andrea were doing everything they could to connect. And she knew that they were doing better—much better—than they had when they'd first brought Andrea back to the prison, barely clinging to life.
She knew that Michonne had a story—just like everyone else—but she was reluctant to share it. Andrea pressed for it, almost every night, but almost every night Michonne had some excuse or another not to share. So far? She'd shared nothing that Carol had heard beyond the fact that, before she became the katana wielding woman they knew her as, Michonne had been a lawyer and she'd been more of fighting for human rights than she had been of fighting anything else—much less Walkers.
Carol knew that Andrea was calming. She was healing and she was getting stronger. She was as excited as the rest of them as they planned things to come in the prison and worked to make them happen. At night, though? Her nightmares were becoming more vivid. They were becoming more regular. When she was awake and part of the group? When she was part of the living world around her? She was happy and healthy and excited about the future. Her subconscious mind, though, was apparently letting go much more slowly of what had happened.
Carol understood that too. She had her own nightmares. She knew that Daryl had them too.
Maybe? Maybe everyone had nightmares these days—maybe it was part of life. But Andrea's were still fresh, perhaps, and therefore they made her nights longer than some of the others.
Carol knew that she wouldn't share them with Michonne. She claimed not to remember them, when Michonne pressed for information, but Carol had no way of knowing if that was true.
Maybe Andrea didn't remember the nightmares. Or maybe she just didn't want to tell them to Michonne. Maybe they were each retaining some small part of themselves that they weren't sharing with each other. And, maybe, one day they'd share that part too.
Carol knew, too, that Glenn and Maggie spent much of their evenings discussing whether or not they were hoping to have something that looked like an official wedding, or if they were just going to consider themselves married and call it a day. She knew that they chatted, sometimes, about whether or not they might consider having children—at least at some point—if the prison proved to be the safe haven that they hoped it would be.
She knew that Tyreese was feeling particularly friendly toward Karen, and she knew—from the horse's mouth no less—that Karen was considering it, but she was honestly nervous of the idea of a relationship in this world. After all, they'd all lost so much already, was the risk of losing that worth the comfort that it might bring before the inevitable fall happened?
Carol had assured her that, though she couldn't speak for anyone else, she thought it was more than worth it.
A moment of happiness, even, was worth more than anything else. And, at least, if that happiness was gone? Ripped away somehow? You were left to live with the memory of the happiness instead of with the regret of happiness that might have been.
Sophia had been Carol's greatest happiness. And though she'd lost her? She knew that she'd rather live the rest of her life with the pain of having lost her daughter than to never have had the time that she had with her little girl.
She assumed, honestly, that all great losses worked the same way, even if she didn't have the same experience with Ed.
Carol loved Daryl, though, and she understood that one day, one of them would be without the other. Who would go first, honestly, was anyone's guess. Carol knew that most probably thought it would be a given that it would be her, if one of them were to go, that would go first—but she wasn't so sure. She certainly didn't want to lose Daryl, and she'd rather go first if she had the choice, but she'd also started to consider the fact that—for whatever reason—she kept surviving every time that she thought there wasn't a chance.
So, even if it seemed obvious? She assumed there was at least a chance that she could outlive Daryl. And if she did? She'd rather be left with his memory than with the regret of having never known him as she did now—as she did more with each passing day.
She thought, too, though they'd never actually discussed it, that Daryl probably felt the same way.
Carol left Beth outside with Judith, both getting some sun since it was such a nice day outside, and she wandered through the prison with the mail box that she used to gather up laundry that people left lying in their cell floors instead of actually getting all the way to the big pile that she "worked from" whenever she dived in to get some washed.
Everyone was busy. Tyreese was busy enlisting Rick's help to figure out how to get the showers running—proclaiming that he knew about the construction of these prisons and their backup systems that he could get running water for them. Maggie and Glenn were gone on a basic supply run. Daryl was busy, with Michonne, putting into place some of the plans they had for reinforcing the prison fences against Walkers since a previous run had brought them in a handful of animals—whose numbers they hoped to increase—and the smell and noise was attracting unwanted attention.
Carol was organizing everyone else to take care of the regular day in and day out activities that had to take place around the "special" projects. Animals had to be watered and fed. Pens had to be cleaned and manure gathered for when they started to plant. Food had to be cooked. Clothes had to be washed. These things, though not as exciting as some of the other things, were things that couldn't be ignored.
So Carol thought that the prison was empty when she wandered through it. While gathering clothes out of Glenn and Maggie's cell, though, she heard words echoing about and she stepped into the corridor a moment to identify where they were coming for before she focused on listening enough to know whether or not they were directed at her or if she might be able to help whoever was speaking with whatever problem they might have.
Her attention was even more so piqued when she heard her name.
Whoever was speaking, their voices were coming out as barley mumbles. They were aware of the echoing properties of the prison. They were trying not to be overheard.
So Carol decided to do them the favor of giving them the privacy they sought, turning back toward the cell to get her box, until she heard her name mentioned once more.
If they were going to whisper, and if they wanted privacy, then they probably shouldn't name drop.
A few steps down the corridor, though, and the voices were clearer to Carol's ears. Hershel was talking to Mary Wilkes. The woman had come with Tyreese's group, and whether it was age or simply having a good deal in common, she'd become quite the companion of Hershel.
Carol imagined that there might be more there—but so far the walls weren't speaking about that.
Or—maybe the walls were just whispering about it and she hadn't heard it yet.
Once she identified who was speaking, she stepped a little closer and listened for a moment, determined only to find out that the mentions of her name had nothing to do with something that she'd done poorly or failed to do altogether. From time to time she managed to forget some chore or another. After all, she had a longer daily list than most people and some things slipped her mind while taking care of other things.
She would have hated, though, to let Hershel and Mary down—she hated to let anyone down.
"...say something soon..." Mary said, when Carol could hear her.
"It just hasn't seemed like the right time," Hershel said.
"Some time has to be the right time," Mary said. "You don't keep those kinds of suspicions to yourself. Things'll need to be changed around here if it's the case."
Whatever they were discussing, Hershel's voice sounded troubled and it was clear that Mary was trying to sway him—one way or another.
Now Carol was listening simply because she was curious and hearing this was far more interesting than washing out dirty underwear yet again—the laundry could wait a moment. Besides, she wasn't going to tell anyone. She'd heard enough secrets that she hadn't told to know that she was trustworthy—and everyone else? If they knew all that she'd heard? Would realize how trustworthy she could be as well.
Besides, it was exciting to be a spy—even if it was of fairly trivial information.
"...new at this. Just getting started," Hershel said. "It's something so big...might be too much."
"Eventually it will be too much," Mary said. "Especially if it's a surprise to both of them. It's not a secret that'll keep. One way or another? Babies make themselves known, Hershel. Even if you don't."
Carol's stomach dropped. It felt like it fell somewhere about her feet on the floor. She swallowed back what rose up in her throat and reached for the cool concrete wall near her, resting her palm on it.
It had been her secret. Or at least she'd thought it was her secret.
It appeared, though, that she definitely wasn't the only one in the prison who was the keeper of other people's secrets.
Carol covered her mouth with her hand, fighting back the feelings of panic that had made her keep the secret as long as she had. She backed her way toward the cell where she'd left her laundry box and sunk down for a moment to sit on the bunk there. She focused on her breathing for a moment.
She'd suspected it for just a little while. There weren't that many signs—at least not that had gotten her attention, but there was enough that she'd found herself thinking about it—worrying about it might be more accurate—a little more each day.
Because if she was right? She wasn't going to be keeping it a secret for too much longer.
Apparently it already failed to be a secret. Hershel was on to her. And now? Now Mary was on to her too. Before long? The whole prison would know.
When Carol heard the sound of Hershel and Mary making their way down the corridor, she sunk back into the cot slightly and waited until they passed. They were still whispering between them—about her no less—and Hershel's words sealed his intention to say something to her soon.
When the two had passed by, Carol sat straight up again and took a moment to clear her head.
Hershel would talk to her soon. She'd discuss it all in detail with him. They'd come up with a plan—whatever kind of plan existed for these things these days beyond the waiting that simply had to happen. And then?
Then they would simply wait and hope, even if Carol wasn't sure what they were hoping for. They were hoping for the best, maybe. That's about what they had to hope for every day these days.
But—before Hershel found her and wanted to talk to her? She had to do some talking of her own.
She hoped Michonne wouldn't mind if she had to borrow Daryl for just a bit.
After all, even if he didn't know it? It was his secret too.