AN: Here we go, another chapter here.
I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
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Carol thought she'd done a pretty good job of hiding herself in the bathroom when she'd gotten sick. The night hadn't been entirely restful for anyone. Sasha had tossed and turned, and whether it was because of that or just happened simultaneously, Carol had tossed and turned. She'd assumed that Michonne might have fared better on the couch, but really there was no telling what it had been like for her.
When Carol couldn't swallow back the nausea anymore, though, she'd eased out of bed as quietly as she could and closed herself in the bathroom with a lamp.
She didn't know how long she'd been in there, but it had been a while she was sure, when she heard tapping at the door.
"Carol? You alright?" Michonne called at the door.
"Fine," Carol said, getting up off the side of the tub where she'd settled in for the long haul. She was in as good a shape as she was going to be for the time being. She brushed her teeth quickly, cursing herself because even at her age she didn't always know how to brush her teeth without gagging herself and then she opened the bathroom door, expecting the woman to have gone back to what she was doing, but instead finding her standing there in front of the doorway. She'd never left.
"You OK?" Michonne asked again, raising her eyebrows.
Carol nodded her head.
"Fine…" she said. "I ate something bad…I ate leftovers…they'd just been sitting around too long probably."
And it wasn't a far-fetched lie by any stretch of the imagination. Their digestive systems were doing a good job of evolving to digest food that was clearly past its prime, but sometimes, every now and again, something was just too much for someone.
Michonne nodded her head and leaned on the doorframe, essentially blocking Carol into the bathroom so Carol backed up a step and leaned back on the bathroom counter until she was given her freedom from her own bathroom.
"So…I went and got breakfast, Sasha's in the kitchen eating," Michonne offered. "You think you can eat?"
Carol swallowed. She didn't know if she could eat or not. Depending on the meal sometimes what they had wasn't appetizing even if you were feeling one hundred percent perfect.
"I'll try to eat something," she said.
"What'd you eat that was bad?" Michonne asked, raising an eyebrow at Carol. "We might want to avoid it…"
Carol could hear that there was something in Michonne's voice that wasn't sincere. There was something in her voice that sounded strange enough that it made Carol's stomach churn again.
"Probably the vegetables," Carol said. She shook her head. "They'd been there for a while…I just didn't think they'd be that bad…it's fine, Michonne."
Michonne nodded her head again, but didn't remove the blockade that she'd formed with her body. She leaned in, in fact, toward Carol a little.
"So this wouldn't have anything to do with the prenatal vitamins that were on your counter?" Michonne asked, furrowing her brows.
Carol hated that about Michonne. When the woman wanted, she could be harder to read than Egyptian hieroglyphics.
Carol frowned.
She almost went into a rant about people inviting themselves into her home and then going through her things…but really she'd been the dumb one that had probably left the bottle right out in the open…because she hadn't thought that anyone would have any reason to really be hanging out in her house or in her kitchen except for herself and Tyreese…and both of them knew about the baby.
She sighed.
"I wasn't ready to tell anyone," Carol said. She shook her head.
Michonne didn't respond verbally, but she did dramatically swing her body out of the way as though to say that Carol could pass now, out of the bathroom. There was no doubt in Carol's mind that if Michonne knew about the vitamins, which she clearly did, then Sasha knew about them too…and she didn't doubt at all either that when she stepped out of the bedroom and went into the kitchen she was going to find Sasha looking at her with expectation or something…she was going to find Sasha looking at her and waiting for some kind of answer.
But she didn't feel, right now, like hiding it anyway. So she went with as much composure as she could wrestle together and went into the kitchen, trying to decide by smell first if she even had the slightest bit of interest in the breakfast that Michonne must have run down to pick up for them.
Sasha was sitting at the table, and much like Carol expected, she was watching her.
Carol didn't say anything. She went about mixing herself up a glass of the powdered milk. It was one of the few things that she didn't mind in the morning.
"Milk?" She asked.
The grunts around told her no.
"Why don't you drink the real milk?" Michonne asked.
They had a variety of animals that they'd gathered together in Oasis and they did produce milk, among other fresh animal products, but Carol never went to get any. She left the real milk for the households that she figured needed it more since, even though they had gathered together and even bred more than a handful of cows, they couldn't pretend they had enough to go around.
"Because the powdered milk is fine," Carol said. "And at least for the time being there's more of it."
She sat down at the table and she already knew from the looks being passed between Michonne and Sasha that while her back was turned there had been a silent conversation of confirmation. But now, neither of them knew how to proceed with the conversation they were both choking on…and Carol wasn't going to help them out.
She picked at the bread that was on her plate of food. It was fresh bread, but it lacked something…and that something was typically flavor and any semblance of moisture. She almost felt when she ate it that it would be better to soak it for a while in the milk and try to make it into something she could choke down.
Sasha was the first to break the painfully awkward silence.
"Did Ty know?" Sasha asked.
Carol nodded her head and continued to pay attention to the bread.
"He knew," she said.
"At least he knew," Sasha said. "He…well I'm sure he was…so happy."
Carol let out something of a choked laugh.
Tyreese had been happy about it. It had been her that had carried pretty much any and all worry about the whole ordeal. He'd been living in the oblivious happy land that men sometimes seemed to inhabit when it came to things that didn't affect them in certain ways. After all…they were having a baby…his role in the whole thing was…or would have been…quite different than hers.
And then Carol almost choked up on the bread that she was eating because she realized, or rather it hit her because it hadn't begun to sink in all that well before, that Tyreese was gone…and he wasn't even going to be there to perform the role that he had in all this.
If she kept the baby…and if everything went fine…she would be the only one.
"Why didn't you tell anyone?" Sasha pressed.
"Sometimes it's better not to talk about it," Michonne offered quickly. "A lot of women don't talk about it before they're in their second trimester…things can happen and it's harder if you've got to…go around…and you've got to tell everyone that something happened."
Carol didn't look at either of them for the moment, but she nodded her head.
It was also sinking into her that now they knew. They might agree not to tell anyone about it, because as Michonne had just explained to Sasha, it was fairly common practice to keep such things to yourself until you were at least somewhat certain that things were going to go according to your favor, but Carol didn't think that either one of them would like to think that she kept buried in the back of her mind the question of what she would do…if she had to decide and Mother Nature didn't decide for her…a question that suddenly seemed even heavier and more complicated than before.
"How far along are you? If you…don't mind?" Michonne asked.
Carol sighed then and looked at Michonne.
At least there wasn't anything like judgment on her face. There was really nothing there.
She glanced at Sasha who was watching her with the same look of expectation as before.
"I don't know," Carol admitted. "Six weeks…eight…ten…I don't know."
Michonne let out something like a snort.
"Carol, there's a lot of difference between six weeks and ten weeks," she said.
Carol hoped her facial expression showed exactly the amount of thanks she had for someone stating something so blatantly obvious.
"It's hard to tell," Carol said. "Listen…I don't want to talk about this right now, OK? And please…please…don't say anything to anyone? Tyreese and I were going…to wait. I'd appreciate it if…" Carol stopped talking and sighed, shaking her head to herself.
Michonne reached over and squeezed Carol's arm.
"Hey…you tell when you're ready to tell," Michonne said. "I'm not going to say anything...but if you need someone for anything…"
"We're both here," Sasha added quickly. "Besides…that's my niece or nephew, right?"
Carol simply nodded her head. She hoped that would be enough to satisfy the two women and end the conversation for a while.
And luckily enough for her, it was.
After they finished breakfast, Carol gathered up the dishes that they'd eaten from and put her dish to the side because she'd probably want it later, but she didn't want it right now. She piled the others into the dishpan and took her time standing there, trying to figure out exactly how she was going to express that she wanted to be alone at the moment. She didn't want to entertain anyone.
She was lucky enough, though, that Sasha got the message, or either she'd never intended to stay long, because when she got up from the table she offered Carol a warm hug and told her that she was going home, but if she needed anything…and the rest blended into the fabric of the normal exchanges that were made in times like these...and Carol returned the gesture.
When Sasha left, though, Carol saw that Michonne was not intending on leaving right away.
"Correct me if I'm wrong," Michonne said when they were alone, "but I get the feeling you might not be thrilled about this baby?"
Carol leaned against the kitchen counter.
"I know that you and Rick have been talking about a baby…and that might be hard for you to understand," Carol said, "but this wasn't something that I planned…it wasn't something that we planned at all."
She shook her head slightly.
"I have my concerns…and I really…don't want to talk about it right now," Carol finished.
Michonne walked around the table and came in front of Carol.
"I can understand your concerns," Michonne offered. "Rick and I have talked about having a baby…and I guess you could say we're planning it, but I'm honestly terrified of it happening. There's a lot..."
Michonne hesitated a moment.
"There's a lot that we know could happen," she said. "And there's a lot that maybe we don't want to think about happening."
Carol got the distinct feeling that what Michonne said wasn't what she'd planned to say or wasn't what had been on the tip of her tongue. But for whatever reason she'd changed the course of her words and Carol wasn't going to pry in hopes that Michonne wouldn't push her to speak on the topic any further either. She wasn't ready to have this conversation with Michonne…not yet.
So she nodded her head in agreement with what Michonne had said and left it at that.
Michonne opened her arms and Carol accepted the hug she was offering. For a moment the woman rubbed her back and then broke the hug, holding her at arms length.
"When you're ready to talk about it, or if you want to talk about it," Michonne said, "I'm more than willing to listen…and just listen if that's all you want."
Carol thanked her and nodded her head.
"And if you want to talk about…anything else," Michonne said, letting her words trail off, though Carol didn't need her to make any grand statement. She knew exactly what she meant.
"Thank you," Carol offered again. "I think…right now…I'd really just like some time to myself."
Michonne nodded at her again.
"Pick you up for lunch?" Michonne asked.
Carol nodded her head. She didn't really feel like going down to the commissary to eat lunch, but she also didn't want everyone to start doing the thing where they questioned if she was interacting enough, if she was handling things alright, and so on.
"Sounds good," she offered. "Thank you for staying last night."
"Any time," Michonne offered.
Carol let her out the door and she leaned against it as soon as she'd closed it. She hated to be alone sometimes, but she knew that she needed to be alone if she was really going to handle her feelings and get control of things. She needed to be void of the distractions that would simply keep pushing things away more and more.
Because one way or another, no matter how strange it always seemed after a tragedy of any sort, life had a way of going on.