Disclaimer: I own nothing.
– – –
"Gloria." Eastman pulled her aside when she entered, her son and daughter going to their usual table and waiting for her. He'd known her for years, known her husband for years. She was a good woman, a fantastic mother, and he knew she would be perfect. She was caring and patient. He would help in any way he could, but Carol needed a mother. He prayed Gloria could be that mother. "I need to talk to you."
She nodded. "What is it?"
"Tonight, when I close. It's...important."
"Of course. I'll be here."
He continued about his day regularly, and when closing time finally arrived, he found Gloria sitting in her usual spot. He locked the front door and joined her. He offered her coffee, and she accepted. He got to business then.
"I have a request," he started. "It's...pretty big, and I'm willing to help out in any way I can."
"What is it?" She met his eyes, the seriousness there startling her.
"There's this little girl. You may have seen her in here a few times. She's really small, red hair, raggedy clothes?" She nodded. "Well, I first saw her about two months ago. She was stealing from the store across the street, and I spoke to her the next day. She was a mess, just filthy and her hair was matted. She's practically skin and bones. I think she's living in a stack of cardboard boxes, but she keeps moving, so I don't know for sure."
"Oh, God."
"Her name's Carol. I invited her here, fed her and talked to her. She didn't tell me much, but I could tell she wanted to. She came by more and more after than, but then she stopped. I looked for her, because I was worried something happened to her." Tears rose up in his eyes. "She was bleeding and unconscious in an alley two blocks from here. I don't know how long she'd been like that. It had been raining, and she was so pale. I thought she was dead."
Gloria covered her mouth with her hand. "Is she all right?"
"I took her to the hospital. I spoke to the police, and they were going to question her, but she was in a coma. It didn't last long. One of the nurses called me, told me she was waking up, so of course I rushed over there to see her, but she was gone. She had run away."
"The police don't know who did it to her? There wasn't anything they could do?"
He shook his head. "The doctors said Carol might not remember. The blows to the head could have affected her memory, but the police wanted to know what happened. What he did to her..." He scoffed. "Or she, for all I know."
"What did he or she do to her?"
He averted his eyes. "She had been assaulted. He beat her with...what they assumed was the butt of a gun."
"Oh, my God." She felt sick. "That poor angel."
"I think I know where she's staying," he began again when he calmed himself. "I'd like you to take her in, adopt her. I'll pay you and for anything she needs, but please, Gloria. I can't go on knowing she's out there all alone. I can barely sleep at night. My son is warm and tucked in and safe, but she's out there. This isn't a world where a little girl can roam the streets by herself and be okay. It just isn't."
"Of course I'll take her in. With Karen off to college, the house is too quiet." She'd seen Carol around here from time to time. She seemed like a sweet girl, and she always tried to lend Eastman a hand. Gloria wondered if that was one of his son's friends, but now she knew. If she could find her parents and reunite them, she would. If they were unfit, she'd do what she could for the girl. If that meant living with them, that was fine. Karen wouldn't mind, and Caesar kept out of the house until night. He was constantly off doing something he probably shouldn't. She'd still discuss it with them, but she was leaning definitely toward yes.
– – –
Carol frowned when the store was empty, Eastman led her in, and she stopped at the sight of Karen. Eastman gently pushed her forward, and Karen looked over and smiled widely when she saw her, and she called to someone. An older woman, possibly her mom, rose out of the booth and smiled warmly at her. There was also a boy, the brother Karen had mentioned, playing something on a phone.
"Carol, this is my good friend, Gloria Martinez." He stopped pushing her. "Gloria, this is Carol."
"It's nice to meet you. I've heard a lot about you." She gestured to her children. "This is my daughter, Karen, and my son, Caesar."
"We've actually met." Karen leaned on the counter. "She was my lunch date on Monday. Isn't that right, Jane?"
Carol paled. "What's going on here?"
"What's going on here is I'd like to take you home." Gloria knelt down. "I know it'll be tough for all of us to adjust, but I think it could work."
"Take me home?" Her brows furrowed, and she gripped the straps of her backpack. "I don't have a home. Even if I did, they didn't want me or care about me. Why would you?"
"Because I've always wanted to be surrounded by family."
"But I'm not family, not yours or anybody else's."
"Not yet." Karen stepped forward. "You can be. I mean, I need a sister. Have you see this boy? How can I survive knowing that's the only sibling I'll ever have?" Carol almost laughed a little. "And we'd be roomies. I'm not home much, but that's good for you. Just don't paint the walls. It ticks Mom right off."
"You used black paint on whites walls. It took ten layers to cover it up."
"I was nine. And really bored. You shouldn't have left it out." She held her hands up. "All I'm saying."
"Anyway, you're smaller than Karen was when she was ten, but I can adjust her old clothes until we can get you some of your own. Just so you know, I'm an amazing cook." She smiled. "We don't have any pets—"
"—unless you count the spiders in the corners of the ceilings," Caesar interrupted her. "The one in my room is name Bennie."
"Bennie had babies," Karen nodded. "I killed two of them in the shower, though."
"How dare you." Caesar looked up from the phone. "What did they do to you?"
"They were in my shower."
"Oh, so it's your shower? You own the shower?"
"Yep. When I'm showering, I do own it."
He started to retort, but Gloria flashed him a look, and he shook his head, going back to his game. Gloria returned her gaze to Carol and frowned at the tears in the small child's eyes, and she searched her face.
"Why are you doing this?" Carol whispered, her voice low, her eyes burning. "I don't understand."
"What don't you understand?"
"Your kindness." She continued to whisper. "You want to take me in and—and take care of me. I don't understand why. I'm a horrible person. I don't deserve a home or the good things you're offering."
"Of course you do."
"No. No, I don't."
"Do you think you deserve to live on the streets? Cold and hungry all the time? You don't deserve that. Nobody does." She shook her head. "Don't say that you deserve that, because you don't."
"I do!" She began to bawl. "I'm a lair and a thief! I don't deserve anything good!"
"What did you lie about?"
"My name," she stammered, gasping breathes. "Where I l—live. I l—lie all the time to people. I kn—know it's wrong, but I—I have to lie."
She set her hands on Carol's shoulders. "What did you steal?"
"Food and stuff." She turned her head slightly, but couldn't make herself look at Eastman. "I'm sorry. I know you told m—me I could come to—to you, but I—I couldn't again. I—I—I'd al—already taken too—too much from—from you. I'm sorry." She released the straps and wiped at her eyes, her body trembling from the sobs.
Gloria pulled her into a hug and held onto her tightly. "Shh, it's all right."
"No, it's not."
"We'll make it all right then." She smoothed her hair down. "You stole to keep yourself alive, but not anymore, okay? We're going to take care of you, and you don't have to steal anymore. You don't have to lie anymore. All you have to do is be yourself. Will you promise me that? Will you give us a chance? Hmm? Please?"
Carol shuddered and snuffled. "You'd really for—forgive me?"
"I would. And so would Eastman." She let Carol go.
Carol looked back at him, and he nodded. "Why?"
"People make mistakes," he replied. "And you feel guilty. I know you'll make it right someday." He ruffled her hair. "You do deserve a home and to be happy, Carol. Please, consider this. Not just for you, but for me. I need to know you're okay."
She swallowed. "Okay."
"Are you hungry?"
"A little."
"I'll go make you something for the drive to Gloria's." He headed to the kitchen.
"If she's getting dinner here, can I?" Caesar leaned on the table. "Please, Mom? Please?"
Gloria put her hands on her hips. "We have dinner ready at home."
He groaned. "But I'm hungry now."
"Too bad." Karen poked his forehead. "I'll buy lunch here and bring it by the school tomorrow, how's that?"
"I'd love you forever."
"You already have to."
"Not have to, but it helps."
Gloria rolled her eyes and smirked. "You'll adjust to them."
"Maybe." Carol snuffled. Maybe they would realize how horrible she was and throw her out before she got a chance. Maybe they would hate her and be mean to her until she ran away. Maybe she'd cause something really, really terrible to happen and ruin their lives forever. There were a thousand maybes in the world, and she knew all of them like the back of her hand. She couldn't consider a positive outcome, because positive wasn't an option. Hope wasn't an option. All hope did was lower her guard so she could be let down. Hope was cruel, and she didn't want any of it.
Eastman returned with a sandwich to tide Carol over. She likely hadn't eaten all day, so it was more of an appetizer. She could stand to have more meat on her bones anyway. "Here you are."
Carol took the wrapped sandwich. "Thank you."
He nodded. "You're welcome."
"We should go. It's pretty late." Gloria nodded to the door, and Karen and Caesar strolled out to the car.
"I'll see you later, kid." He smiled at her. "Be good."
"I will." She hugged him. "Thank you."
He squeezed her once tightly then released her. "You have a big day ahead of you, so go home and eat and sleep, okay? We'll see each other soon."
She nodded.
Gloria showed Carol to the car, Caesar was still on the phone in the backseat, and Karen was bugging him to fasten his seat belt. Gloria got on him, and he finally did. She told Carol to do the same, and Carol nodded, setting her backpack on the floor and holding the sandwich in her arm. She wasn't hungry. It was weird. She'd been hungry as far back as she could remember, but right now, she wasn't. Her stomach was twisted up in heavy knots, and her throat felt tight, her heart racing. She knew Eastman wouldn't put her with bad people, and she knew Karen was a good person, but she was still terrified. She didn't want to ruin their lives or her own any further. She wanted to jump out now and run back to her cardboard home and pretend this never happened.
She knew she couldn't, and she knew it was just her anxiety. She needed to calm down. She didn't want to freak them out. She didn't want it to turn sour, and she didn't want to be yelled at or kicked out. She knew it was a possibility, but she didn't want it to be. She wanted something good to happen for once. She wanted to be able to put faith in people and their words, but words could be lies, and people could be vicious simply because they enjoyed it. She didn't like that she was preparing for the worst. She was always preparing for the worst. That was all she knew how to prepare for. Good things, good outcomes, happiness? Those didn't exist for her. If they did before the hospital, they didn't matter or count, because of what followed. It was like the world was showing her how good things could be and how easily it could be taken away. It always took. Always.
Gloria showed Carol around the house while Karen set the table and Caesar got the drinks. It wasn't a huge house, but it was nice. It smelled like food and was warm. Karen and Caesar had their own rooms, there was only one bathroom, and there was a small fenced in backyard. It was cute, and the pictures of them that hung on the wall caught Carol's attention more than once. She'd never seen so many happy pictures before, and she was jealous. It was stupid, but she couldn't fight the burning in her chest at the sight of their goofy smiles and faces. It must be nice, she thought, to be surrounded by family.
"The table's set." Karen was at the bottom of the stairs. "Since you didn't eat your sandwich, I made you a plate. Do you like spicy food?"
"I wouldn't know."
Karen nodded. "It's pretty mild, I suppose."
"Why don't you let me take your bag?" Gloria held her hands out for Carol's backpack. "I'll put it in Karen's room."
"Speaking of," Karen said as Carol removed the backpack and handed it to Gloria, "you can have my bed tonight. I have a test to cram for anyway, so I'll be downstairs."
"I don't want it." She shook her head. "I'm used to sleeping on the ground anyway."
Karen smirked. "You're already taking my old clothes, half of my bedroom and part ownership of my brother. I think I can let you take my bed for one night too."
"Are you sure?"
"If I wasn't, I wouldn't have offered. Now come and eat."
Dinner wasn't as awkward as Gloria had thought it'd be. Caesar went on and on about school, Karen was trying to study and eat at the same time, and Carol was picking away at her food. Gloria was worried Carol didn't like it, but she had a feeling Carol might be nervous. Karen was like that too. She didn't like eating in front of other people unless family was around or friends. She used to skip lunch at school every day before she and Ana became friends. She didn't understand it, but she didn't pressure Karen. She would grow out of it, or she wouldn't.
Gloria and Caesar washed the dishes and put away the leftovers, Carol wanted to help out, but they had a chore chart, and Gloria would wait until Carol felt more at home to add her to it. She would let Karen help her get settled in. Karen was good at that. Caesar would drive the poor child to locking herself in her room to escape. He was a good boy, but he talked too much sometimes.
"Here is some shampoo and conditioner." Karen set them on the bathroom counter. "You have your own toothbrush and toothpaste, so just keep them behind the mirror. We use the top shelf, Mom has the middle and Caesar has the bottom. The mouthwash is for all of us. Be warned: it burns. It feels like it's trying to burn the flesh off the inside of your mouth."
"Why buy it?"
"I don't know. We just always have." She shrugged. "I'll put your pajamas on the counter. I have go dig them out, but I'll leave them in here for you, and you know where my bedroom is."
"Okay."
"If you want, you can have some chocolate ice cream before you go to bed."
"Maybe."
"The shower is pretty self-explanatory, so I'm gonna go find my old pajamas."
"How old are you?" Carol questioned before Karen left. "You asked me the other day, but I don't know how old you are."
"I'm eighteen." She stepped out of the bathroom. "Now shower. You look like you need it."
Carol lifted her eyes to the mirror. She had showered a couple days ago, but she looked like a mess again. Her hair was gross and dirty, and her clothes smelled weird. Nobody said anything, but she knew they saw it, and they would smell it. She tried to wash her clothes in the sinks of the hotels she...got into, but they took so long to dry. She did the best she could.
"Carol?" Karen knocked on the door then cracked it and tossed the pajamas on the counter, closing the door again.
The pajamas were nice, even after how ever many years have passed since Karen wore these. The top was white and wasn't dingy like some of the white shirts she'd seen while trying to cloth herself, and the bottoms were cute. They had the galaxy on them.
She sighed and undressed, stepping into the shower and smiling a little what the fish on the bottom. They were weird feeling under her toes, but she figured they were to prevent slipping. She turned the water on, jumping back at the icy blast, and she turned it the other way and winced at the searing hot water. She turned it a bit more toward cold and sighed blissfully at the even temperature.
She scrubbed the street off of her body and out of her hair, and when she was dry, she scrubbed it off her teeth as well. She hung her towel to dry over the shower rod and dressed, finding the pants too big, so she pulled on the drawstring and tied it. The shirt was a size too big, but it was nice. It didn't drown her, but it didn't choke her either. They smelled good, clean, not like her other clothes.
She unlocked the door and opened it. Nobody was on the other side, so she sauntered downstairs, hearing Karen and Gloria talking about something she didn't understand. It school-related. It had to be.
"Wow, those were big for you." Karen giggled at the sight of Carol. "But, hey, you look better. That's what's important."
"Thank you for letting me borrow them."
"You can have them." She clicked the end of her pen. "So, do you have anymore of those clothes like the ones you were wearing?"
"A couple in my backpack. Why?"
"Because I called dibs on burning them with fire." She tucked hair behind her ear. "If you leave them on the dresser, I'll throw them away."
"But those are my only clothes."
"We're taking you clothes shopping on Thursday," Gloria informed her. "I'm off that day. Until then you can wear Karen's old clothes."
"Is that really okay?" She gripped a handful of her nightshirt in both hands, biting her bottom lip.
"It is." Gloria rose. "Do you want some ice cream? Caesar's already helped himself."
"I'd like some."
"You have to eat it at the table."
"That's fine." She didn't eat at many tables. She liked it, and silverware. It was easier to eat with spoons and forks and knives. She usually used her fingers, so when she saw the fork and spoon, she wanted to cry. She had a plastic spoon she'd taken from the tray the nurse had given her in the hospital, but it broke. She'd been drinking cans of cold soup and noodles with meatballs. It was gross and slimy, but it was filling.
Gloria handed her a bowl and spoon. "Do you want nuts or caramel?"
"Umm...okay." She sat down. "Caramel, I guess I'd like some of that."
Gloria squeezed out caramel from the container onto the chocolate ice cream then returned it to the fridge. "You have to wash your bowl when you're done, okay?"
She nodded and spooned in a bite of ice cream. She'd had some before at Eastman's restaurant. He was using her to taste test some of his new herb cheeses, and as a reward, she got ice cream. He always wanted a second opinion, and she believed he enjoyed watching her gag on the nasty concoctions. You know, like 'ha, I wasn't the only one to suffer that taste'. It had to be why his son stopped trying the cheeses. Carol didn't blame him.
Gloria checked in on Carol twice before bed and once when she thought Carol was asleep. Carol was clinging to the backpack with her few snacks inside, and she had taken a couple of apples from the bowl in the kitchen just in case. They wouldn't notice. She was sure they hadn't seen her take them. She didn't want to steal anymore, but she couldn't just be thrown back out onto the streets unprepared. She wouldn't take money or anything like that. Just food. Maybe canned items would be better. They wouldn't rot like apples.
She wanted to stop thinking like that and simply enjoy having a bed to sleep in, blankets to warm her and people to talk to, but she couldn't. She couldn't let go of her backpack. Not yet.
– – –
Carol woke up to the ringing of her cell, and she fumbled around for her phone, finding it on the floor. She cleared her throat and answered it. "Williams."
"Carol?" It was Deanna.
"Yes?"
"I wanted to see if you could join us for dinner tonight."
"Yeah, sure. What time?"
"Seven."
She nodded, like Deanna could actually see her, then remembered she couldn't. "Uh, I'll be there."
"Okay."
She hung up and checked the time. It was nine in the morning. She pushed herself up and ran a hand down her face. She had dreamed about her first night with the Gloria and her siblings. It was vivid. She could still taste of that dinner and feel the water on her skin. She could almost smell Karen's perfume.
––
Karen and Carol were on Karen's bed, and Karen sat behind her, brushing and braiding her hair for her church. It was the first time they'd all gone together. Karen had exams or had to work, or Gloria had to work, or Carol had some appointment. They were going as a family for the first time since they'd taken Carol in. It'd been almost a year now, and with therapy, she was doing quiet well. The therapist said her bond with Karen helped bring her out of her shell, and Carol didn't take food or sleep with her backpack anymore.
Caesar was on the floor, using Karen's TV to play a shooter game, and Carol kept seeing all the blind spots he left open. She kept pointing them out, and she'd gotten him killed about five times. Or so he blamed her. He refused to believe it was his fault. He told her to stop talking. She was "throwing him off". He wasn't skilled at this game. He wouldn't admit it though.
"You're not even dressed," Karen shot back when he told Carol to shut up for the fifth time. "Mom's gonna kill you."
He groaned. "Fine, but I'm playing when we get back."
Carol watched him leave and pressed her thumbs against her ankles. "He doesn't like me, does he?"
"Caesar?"
"Yeah. He always glares at me, or acts like I'm doing something wrong. Like I'm unwelcome here."
"He doesn't dislike you. He doesn't know you. He's always been the baby of the family, so having someone his own age around is...different. He doesn't know what to make of you, but if you'd hang out with him, he'll start to know."
"So, I should hang out with him?"
"It's not torture." She laughed at Carol's tone. "He doesn't bite. He stopped when he was ten."
"I'm just not sure how to hang out with a boy. I mean, I've only hung out with you and Gloria."
"Just play that stupid game with him." She twisted the tie around the end of the braid. "It'll be fine, just don't hand him his ass too much. Let him win once then pummel him. He'll get competitive, so he'll talk to you to distract you, but just use it. Go from there."
"All right."
"Your hair's done." She rose off the bed. "I'm going to check on Mom."
She nodded and set her feet on the floor. She had been here for a long time now. She had a different last name, different skin and hair and eyes, but Karen and Gloria treated her like family. She had her own bed for the first time she could remember. Her own clothes and shoes and hairbrush. She even had her own favorite cup and spot on the couch. It was really amazing here, and she wasn't worried about them kicking her out anymore. Not since Gloria introduced them all as "her kids". People got a funny look when she said it and they saw Carol, but they didn't say anything. It made her feel worth something again. If she ever felt that way before the accident.
"Hey, Carol." Caesar tossed something at her. "C'mon, we're about to leave.
Carol caught what he threw at her and saw it was a cell phone. "What's this for?"
"It's my old phone." He entered. "Mom wanted me to give it to you. You'll probably get one on your birthday, but until then you should have one. It's still in good shape. Mom would've killed me if I damaged it. Uhh, hope you don't mind the sticker."
It was a cartoon detective's shield. "It's cool. I don't."
"Really?"
She nodded. "Do you wanna be a detective?"
"Sorta. I've seen a lot of it on TV—the real stuff, not that Law and Order, or CSI stuff. I do watch them too, though."
"You'd make a good cop." She walked over to him. "Just work on your aim."
"Like you're any better."
"Is that a challenge?"
He smirked. "We come back, I'll let you play my game, see how many people you can hit. Winner gets the loser's dessert."
"You're on."
"Caesar! Carol! Come on!" Gloria called.
"Race you."
She bolted out of the room, and he was hot on her heels.
"It sounds like I live with elephants." Gloria shook her head.
"Welcome to the next seven years of your life." Karen giggled. "Maybe eight years."
"Lord give me strength."
Karen giggled harder as Carol and Caesar joined them, both out of breathe, and Gloria laughed and tapped the back of Karen's head with her purse. It only made her laugh more.
– – –
Caesar rubbed his daughter's back. "That was your aunt Karen. She loved to laugh. I wish... I wish she would have had more time to laugh. I wish she could've met you." He looked up at his wife, referring to both of them.
"Me too," Andrea whispered.
"We've been here before," Keira noted. "But usually on her birthday. Is today special too?"
"Not really." He pulled her into a half hug. "I just wanted to come by today."
She wrapped her arms around her dad's neck. "I bet she misses you too, Daddy."
He smiled. "You bet?" She nodded. "C'mere." He embraced her and kissed the top of her head.
Andrea lowered herself down onto her knees, and Keira leaned back against her. Andrea kissed her cheek and held her. She noticed the tears in her husband's eyes. "Do you need a minute?"
He nodded. "I'll see you at the car. Uh, make sure the flowers aren't wilting."
Andrea rose and guided Keira to the car. It was a beautiful day, and Caesar wanted to visit their graves today. They started with the Karen, and they were going to drive out and see Rick and Sam's. They were buried in a different cemetery, so they'd stop for lunch before they made the trip. It wasn't a long drive, but Andrea was eating for two, and Keira got grouchy when she was hungry. She hadn't had much breakfast, and a pit-stop was necessary.
Caesar adjusted the flower they'd placed at her headstone and sat down on the sun-warmed grass. He crossed his legs and cleared his throat, but his eyes still burned from the unshed tears, his nose was running, and he felt a pit hollowing inside his chest. He exhaled shakily and averted his gaze to the other headstones.
"Pretty empty here today," he mumbled. "Wonder why."
There was no wind today, nor were there any clouds in the sky. It was a good day for walking or jogging. Spring was upon them for sure, and with spring came a couple of birthdays. He had to get gifts and sign some cards in a couple of weeks for Michonne's boy, Andre. He wasn't really a boy anymore. He was a man. He didn't know what to get him. Maybe cover his rent or something. Or not. He couldn't cover his own rent this month. Well, he could, but... Shit.
He knew he was distracting himself, and he was failing, because he'd already chosen a gift. By him, he meant Andrea. She had it picked out a couple nights ago while they were out, and they'd go it buy once Michonne assured them he didn't already have it, or she hadn't already bought it for him herself. She likely got the kid a car. He lived with her now, helped her with her bills, even though she didn't need it. He had a full ride to college, but he liked working and needed extra cash. He was a good young man. Sam would have been like him. Not aiming to become a part of CSU, but close.
He chuckled bitterly. "I can't think about it. All this time, I just can't. It's blocked. It's my head, but it's fucking locked up, and I can't—" He swallowed when his voice broke, and he looked at her headstone. "I know it was my fault. I told Carol we should tell you. Shit, I made her be the one to tell you so I wouldn't get in trouble for sneaking out of the house while I was grounded."
His shoulders shook. "I'm so sorry. I should've just let it be. It wasn't my business. Mom always told me to mind my own business. I didn't. I never could. I was a stupid little kid, trying to be...like a cop from TV. It doesn't work out like that." He buried his face in his hand. "I should've just let it go."
The last thing he said to her was "Be careful". She didn't know he knew, or had seen, but he did. He knew what she was walking into, and he did nothing to protect her. He was the man of the house, but he did nothing. He sent Carol to tell her, and he sent Karen to handle it. He didn't do shit, and they paid for it. It was his fault. He dragged Carol out that day, because he was bored, and Mom worked a double that night. He knew she wouldn't catch him. They had to hang out in a shady part of town, because he didn't want of Mom's friends to see him out. If he hadn't done that, they wouldn't have seen, and Karen would be alive. Mom wouldn't have had to bury her child. No parent should have to bury their child, and both his mother and his sister have.
"Fuck." He dug his hands into his hair and shuddered, tears streaming down his face. "We said we'd protect each other. When we took in Carol and she was a mess, we said we'd keep each other safe. We didn't keep you safe. We didn't protect you. We got you killed. We got you..." He trailed off, gasping in air and snuffling. "I couldn't even bring you justice. Carol did that. She...she did it all—I did nothing. Fucking nothing, and you were my sister. Christ."
He felt arm wrap around his shoulders, and Andrea buried her face in his neck. "I couldn't save her or avenge her. All I did was let her down." His voice was deep, and the words scratched his throat. "I put her in danger, and—"
She held him tighter. "And?" she murmured by his ear. "Tell me."
"She died that day, and I was playing video games. I was having fun, and...she was being beaten to death. They tortured her, and I—was—playing—video—games." His chest heaved as he struggled to catch his breath. "She was my big sister, and she was...invincible. She could do anything—and she did. She was the good one, the smart one. She didn't deserve to die, not like that, not like she was—was trash. Like nobody would miss her."
Andrea's entire body vibrated from his sobs. She closed her eyes and comforted him the only way she could. "Tell me everything, Caesar."
"She was strong. I remember Mom saying it all the time, but when she needed to be strong the most, she wasn't strong enough. She wasn't... God, how could that have happened? I don't understand. It was fucking daylight, and nobody saw anything. Nobody tried to help her." That scratching became nails, and it felt like his throat should be bleeding. He wasn't sure Andrea could understand him, because he couldn't understand himself. "She was the best person I knew, and not one person...not one of those assholes who was there stopped or felt guilty. God didn't send anybody to save her."
Andrea could hear the resentment in his words. It'd always been there, but it was clear now. He harbored so much loathing for the men who killed his sister, for God for not doing anything to save her, for himself for not backing her up or being there to protect her. In his mind, he was as guilty as those cops. "Caesar."
"It should have been me," he whispered. "It was my mistake. She shouldn't have paid for it."
"Do you hate her?"
"No. No, I couldn't hate Karen."
"I wasn't talking about Karen. I was talking about Keira."
"What?" He looked at her. "Of course I don't hate our daughter! I love her! Why the hell would you ask me that?!"
"If it had been you, Keira wouldn't exist. Our baby wouldn't exist. So, since you hate yourself for not being there to be killed, you hate Keira and the baby too. They're pieces of you, after all, and you're wishing them away—wishing them dead."
"I didn't mean it like that."
"There's no other way to mean it. You can't wish yourself away without doing the same to them." She lifted her face and met his eyes. "You hate yourself, because you couldn't do anything? You were a little boy. You were trying to be brave, like the men you idolized on TV. You were doing the right thing, the thing that makes me love you, makes me proud of you."
"I was being stupid."
"If you hadn't told her, if Carol hadn't gotten them arrested, do you think your life would be better? They could have increased their violence, and you or Karen or Carol or some other innocent bystander would have been killed. More than just one, and you'd have to wonder if every case—every dead body—that crossed your desk was theirs. You'd regret not doing something, because you would feel their blood on your hands. Don't say you wouldn't. I know you would."
He shook his head.
"You blame God? If God had sent someone to save her, Carol wouldn't have stepped up. She wouldn't have become the determined person we know. She wouldn't have become a cop and met Rick and had Sam. She wouldn't have met Daryl and had Sophia. She wouldn't be your partner. Who even knows if you'd be such good friends." She searched his eyes. "And you wouldn't be with me. If someone would have saved Karen, she might be paralyzed and need constant care. You would step up so Gloria wouldn't strain herself. You wouldn't have become a cop, and we wouldn't have met. Our daughter wouldn't be here, and our unborn child wouldn't be growing."
"He didn't have to let her die like that," he hissed.
"God can't always be kind, Caesar. Karen suffered horribly in her last moments, but she's at peace now and forever. She changed you and Carol. She was born to guide you and Carol to a certain point, and God had to take her home."
"Why? Why did He have to?"
"I couldn't say, but everything happens for a reason. Karen was an amazing woman from the stories I've heard, and people on your street have looked out for each other ever since that day. It raised awareness. I know it doesn't justify it. It never could." She stroked his cheek. "Whatever pain Karen felt is long over. The pain you feel should be too. The blame is not yours. You two were children, and Karen didn't have to listen to Carol, but she did. She made that choice. She wanted to help, and so she tried. She followed her beliefs and did what she felt was right, just like you. Those assholes who murdered her, they're paying for it and then they'll pay for it some more. They're the ones who decided to kill her, who decided that greed was more important than someone's life. It's not you."
"...'the stories you've heard'." He sniffed. "They shouldn't be stories. There shouldn't be a grave for her. Not yet. She should be old and gray-haired with a partner and their kids. She never had a chance."
"You came out here to let this out, but you're not. You've been holding this in since you were thirteen. That's thirty-three years, Caesar. No one should be angry for that long."
"I know you're right," he stated, "but I can't hear it."
"I know." She smiled a little. "We'll work through this." She wiped at his tears.
He exhaled. "How do we work through this?"
"With patience and booze." He almost laughed. "And a therapist. You need to talk to someone who can offer you an opinion I can't. I love you, and I want you to be okay. I won't challenge you—much—or piss you off. They will, and you'll find the real reason you're angry."
"I stopped believing in God when Sam died," he confessed. "I couldn't tell my mother. I was raised in the church, and she'd have died if she knew. I just couldn't believe in Him, but I find myself thinking all the time how grateful I am God led me to you."
She beamed at him. "Well, He sent me to that disgusting nightclub with my sister where He knew we'd meet. I know it doesn't...do much to sooth you, but you did find some happiness after Karen. It wasn't all guilt and anger." She ran her fingers through the hairs on the back of his neck. "She'd be grateful for that."
He closed his eyes, unable to smile back her, though he wanted to. "I'm tired."
"I'm not surprised." She rested her forehead against his. "C'mon, let's go see our godson."
"He probably already knows he's gonna be a brother again." Keira, who got bored waiting in the car, said, "Grandma says that's the only downside to trying to surprise angels—they already know everything."
Andrea smiled a little. "Yeah, that's true, but we'll still tell him." She rubbed Caesar's shoulder. "I'll drive."
He watched his wife and daughter for a moment, heaved a sigh and ran his hands down his face. He wasn't sure about his faith, but he knew it was time to let go. He had a beautiful daughter and an unborn child, a wife, a sister, nieces, a mother. He had so many things in his live that he loved and loved him. He couldn't wish it was him. Andrea was right. All of these feelings and wishes weren't just him. If he weren't in the picture, neither were Kiera and his unborn child. He would never have those thoughts, never try to see a world without them. They were too precious to him for him to think like that.
– – –
Carol dressed for the dinner with the Monroes. She hadn't brought anything for a "family" dinner, but what she had would suffice. It had to. She didn't enjoy clothss shopping, and she'd rather not have to find a new outfit just for tonight. Her jeans and blue blouse would do fine anyway. She was comfortable in them, and it was easier to flee awkward situations in pants.
She adjusted her watch, glancing at herself in the mirror, and she exhaled. She dreaded dinner tonight with Deanna and Reg and their sons. She didn't want to see them. She didn't want to hear them or sit down at their dinner table and eat with them. They all expected someone she wasn't, and she couldn't even pretend to be that girl. Her mind was blank. The damage done to her on the streets scarred her to this day, but scars were scars, and she had plenty of them. She wore the scar of Sam left every day, and she learned to find strength from it. Small pieces, mostly anguish and remorse, but small pockets of strength were what she used to make it through most days. That's how she knew she'd make it through this dinner.
She touched her necklace and exhaled. Okay. It was time to head out. It was one dinner, a final goodbye. She didn't want to be cruel, but their worlds were vastly diverse, and she wouldn't subject them to the devastating details of her life. Once they knew, there was no going back, and she couldn't handle any more looks of pity. It was her past, and she accepted it. She had a future to look forward to, someone...important to speak with, and she had her daughters and unborn niece or nephew. She couldn't fit the Monroes in her life, not after changing so much. The girl they want to see in her was long buried, and she couldn't return to her. She wouldn't. She was proud of who she was, what she'd accomplished, and while it ached and insomnia was too good a friend, it was who she was. She wouldn't compromise herself for anyone. She would apologize and thank them, but that was all. There wouldn't be a happy ending here. Rarely were there happy endings.
––
It was seven-ten when Carol arrived at the Monroe's home. She was invited in by Reg and led to the kitchen where Deanna and one of her sons were. Carol wasn't sure which son was beside Deanna, but given his features, she would assume Spencer. He had been older than her.
"Spence." Reg set a hand on his shoulder.
He turned around and looked over Carol. "That's her?" he whispered.
He nodded. "Hard to forget those eyes."
Spencer held his hand out to her. "Spencer Monroe."
Carol shook it out of habit. "Carol Williams. It's nice to meet you."
He chuckled, and it was humorless. "Yeah, same to you."
She released his hand. "Expecting a different reaction?"
"To be honest, yes." His smile was warm but bittersweet. "Mom told me you didn't remember us, but I'd hoped...maybe being back would jog your memory."
She shook her head. "Whatever life I had here is gone from my memory."
He nodded and lowered his eyes.
Deanna cleared her throat. "Dinner's about ready. The dining room's all set up, so why don't you all go have a seat."
"I'll go get Aiden." Reg departed from the room, but not before Carol saw the grim look on his face.
"The table's already set," Spencer commented. "Would you like a drink?"
"Water, please."
"Are you sure? I brought wine, and Dad has something stronger around here, if you'd prefer that."
"Just water."
"Okay." He pulled down a glass and filled with ice water. "I'll show you to the dining room."
She accepted the glass of water and followed him down the hall to the dining room. She spotted Reg and who could only be Aiden in what appeared to be his old bedroom on the way, but she said nothing to draw either of their attention. She had a feeling Aiden had a few words for her. She could see the tension in the muscles in his back through this shirt as he gripped the window frame, and she wondered how far into dinner they'd get before he let it go.
Spencer motioned for her to sit by the end beside him, and she set her cup down, sitting. Most of the side dishes and rolls were already laid out on the table, and it smelled wonderful. She knew if she could remember, the scent of this room and of the food would cause her memories to come rushing back. However it wasn't that simple, and she didn't mind forgetting. It was simpler for her to forget. Inconsiderate and simpler. When she left their home, her heart wouldn't choke on the anguish of all these missed years, her body wouldn't shake at the sorrow in their eyes that matched her own. She would only be walking away, returning to her home, to her life. To her daughters. She wouldn't be leaving one home for another. It wasn't right, but that's what the facts were. A dinner with strangers in her eyes; a dinner with family in theirs. That wouldn't change no matter what the year was. There were things they had to know to be considered family, and she couldn't share them. It was her past, and she wanted to shelter them from it. It must be the mother in her.
Deanna and Reg joined them, Reg gave an excuse for why Aiden was taking so long, and Deanna squeezed Carol's shoulder as she found her chair. Carol sipped her water, the tension in the room thicken as Aiden appeared and sat across from Carol. Deanna insisted they say grace, Carol took the hand of Spencer and Reg, feeling Aiden's gaze bore into her. She closed her eyes and listened to Deanna thank God for the meal, for returning their lost daughter, and Carol's throat tightened. It was going to be quite a long night after all.
The food was passed around, Carol didn't help herself to much, despite the three of them insisting. She didn't have much of an appetite. She hadn't since she came to this home. She didn't know why that was, but she hoped it passed. If she went home and ate as little as she did during her stay, Andrea would be on her like white on rice. So would Caesar and Sophia and Mika and Rosita. Michonne already checked in on her to see how much she'd eaten. It was silly, and she loved them for it. She didn't want to worry them any more than she already had, so any day her appetite wanted to return was fine with her. As long as it was sooner.
"So." Reg peered at Carol from across the table. "Why don't you tell us a little about your work? It must be interesting."
Carol swallowed roast. "About my work?"
He nodded.
"Yeah, tell us," Aiden prodded. "I'm sure it's fascinating." His spoke with a sneer, his eyes taunting her, and he hadn't touched his food. He kept staring at her. Glaring was more accurate, and she wondered when he was going to snap. He hadn't reached the boiling over limit just yet, but it was nearing. She could tell.
"It's not like what you see on TV. It's a lot more challenging, and not all cases are solved. It's difficult to work a case and have the killer slip away. I try my best to lower the number of cold cases, but in the end it can't be helped. There's only so much we can do." She shifted her gaze from one Monroe to the next. "I enjoy being a detective. It's fulfilling, and concurrently it's devastating. Various victims cross my path, and I can't imagine how brutal and mortifying their last hours were. It breaks my heart to think about it."
Deanna nodded. "I can't imagine being in your line of work. I hope it doesn't weigh too much on you."
"It does, but I try not to let it stop me. I do my job to the best of my ability, and I don't stop unless I have no choice."
"How admirable." Spencer smiled. "It's good to know someone like you is out there."
"Yeah, it's dandy," Aiden muttered.
Deanna scolded her youngest son before shifting a more pleasant and slightly apologetic gaze to Carol. "Have you ever worked a case that's stayed with you?"
"Yes, several." She drank water, avoiding eyes as she did. "I'd rather not discuss them."
"Well, why don't we talk about something else then?" Reg met the eyes of his oldest son. "Why don't you tell us how you've been?"
Carol was grateful to have someone else be the center of attention. She could never fully handle all eyes on her. She didn't enjoy it. She knew there were times when she had to be the focus, when she had to take charge and set the course of an investigation or an interrogation, but this wasn't either. During dinners Carol preferred to listen as opposed to speak. There were many intriguing tells and habits to be learned by listening, and Carol had no fond stories to tell. If they were to ask about Sophia, she had no reply. She hadn't spent a day with Sophia as her mother. She hadn't seen her first steps, heard her first word, been with her on the first day of school. She just was trying to get through the day while Sophia did all of those things and more.
She could only discuss firsts that she had with Sam, but she hadn't told them about her son. She would prefer to not talk about him. They would wonder why she hadn't mentioned him before. They would question, and she didn't want that. The answers would leave a bitter taste in their mouths and a weight on their chests. It wasn't dinner conversation. It was barely a conversation. She spat it at Daryl, and anyone else close to her had lived through it. It made life smoother in its own way. She didn't have the strength to retell and retell and retell the story, to view their sympathetic faces and feel their sorrow and pity rush at her in waves.
She recalled informing Daryl of Sam and Rick's fate, how when he looked at her it wasn't with either of those things. It was as though he'd gotten another bit of information on her, and he wanted to aid her. He wanted to stand beside her and put the man who'd taken the shot down. She didn't realize how appreciative she was of that until just now. It was refreshing to think back and know at least one of the few people she told about Sam chose to stand by her and find the sniper, not hold her and drown her with sympathy and gentle words. Daryl's reaction was rare, and she was glad for it.
He was a good man, a good person, and he showed that to her from the moment they met. Well, kidnapping her aside, he showed it from the moment they met. He kept his word. She wasn't harmed by him, and they survived the sniper together. They survived the Governor together. They had been beaten and starved and endured mental torment; he'd be left to die in an alley, and she'd been shot twice. She wasn't positive how in hell they managed to continue drawing breaths, but it was invigorating. She hadn't had someone outside family to rely on in far too long. Well, no that was a lie. To say Daryl was outside her family was a lie. He was family. He was the father of her daughter, and he had comforted her in ways he couldn't know.
"What's with that smirk?" Aiden barked at the woman across from him. "Enjoying the discussion?"
Carol lifted her eyes. "Very much so."
"I'm sure."
"Aiden, please," Deanna pleaded. "Not tonight."
"No, let him speak. There's no reason why he shouldn't." Carol offered her a slight smile before locking her gaze on the man. "What's bothering you? And don't hold back. I assure you I can take it."
He scoffed. "Oh, I bet you can."
She moistened her lips. "You're awfully twitchy. I don't think it's from substance abuse." She pointed to his hands. "I can tell you've had all your fingers have been broke at some point, so I can presume you've been severely beaten. From how you can't be still, it was more than once."
His sneer only worsened the more she spoke. "Can you tell that?"
"Yes, just as I can tell it was likely in prison when you were beaten. You have that look in your eye, and I know it well. How many years did you serve? Four? Six?"
"You just know it all, don't you?" he hissed. "Yeah, I went to prison for a while. Yeah, I was beaten a few times, both hands and all my fingers broken. A couple ribs and my arm too. Wanna know why? Or can you guess that too?"
Deanna and Reg both sighed, a sound of regret and anguish, and Carol pieced it to slowly together. The way Deanna didn't touch much of her wine, the way Reg kept rubbing the back of his neck. How they both kept an eye on Aiden as if he were a fragile little bird. Meanwhile Spencer kept an eye on both of his parents, the watchful owl flying above as hunters neared the trio of deer. Carol wasn't sure yet if she was the hunter nearing them or if the hunter was memories of the past. She was sure it would revealed to her.
"You were kidnapped, taken out of your bed and dragged to a whole new city. You were on the streets and starving and lonely." His words were like scoffs, dripping with resentment and ire, and she could feel it seeping from his body like a crack in a dam. It would burst soon, the pressure of the water far too great. "Poor little Carol. Small and cold and all alone. How long were you on the streets? A year? Two?"
"A little under or possible over a year. I can't be sure; my memory is hazy."
His chuckle was a humorless and bitter jeer that caught in his throat. "Poor you. I should feel bad, give you all the pity and warmth in the world, because you're the victim. You're the only victim they see." He shook his head. "Well, news flash, Carol Williams—you didn't suffer alone. No, while you were out in the cold, things went to shit here."
"Aiden, please," Reg begged. "Don't do this."
"Why? Let's be real here, guys. We're not some happy fucking family. We don't have monthly dinners like this. We don't enjoy wine and share stories and laugh! We don't do any of this shit." He lifted up a small plate for bread rolls. "She just bought this. For you. She wanted to impress her lost little girl." He dropped it and it shattered on the wood floor, Deanna closed her eyes, and Aiden continued. "It's always been about you. For as long as I can remember. "Carol this" and "Carol that". "Carol needs a new backpack", "Carol wants to be read a nighttime story", "Go tuck in Carol". "Kiss Carol goodnight". "Turn on the nightlight for Carol".
"I thought the baby of the family was the one parents clung onto, but not in our house. It was Carol, the adopted child, and I'm not complaining about that part. I don't care what blood you have, and I don't even care that you monopolized our parents' time. I liked the freedom to breathe." He held a finger up and leaned over the table toward Carol. "However when you got kidnapped and after years passed, nothing changed. It was still all about Carol. After the cops had given up, after the private investigator they hired came up with nothing, after they ran us practically dry—all about Carol. I didn't mind. I wanted my big sister found too. Who wouldn't? This world is littered with trash who would use you as a prostitute or rape you or beat you or just straight up kill you. I wanted you brought home, safe and sound."
"Wanted? What changed?" Carol studied him.
"It'd been five years. I was graduating from middle school, and it wasn't a major deal, but it would have been nice if they'd showed up. No one came. Spencer wasn't even there, and the son of a bitch could drive. I came home, and it was like I didn't exist. Nobody would even talk to me, and I didn't know why." He swallowed. "Then I found out Dad had gotten a lead from his retired cop friend. A little girl had been found wandering the park in Indiana. She was pale, small and also a redhead. Dad drove through the night to make it to the police station she'd been taken to for questioning. It was always heavy on the heart to see them raise their hopes only for it to turn out to be the wrong girl—again. Mom always perked up when someone had a tip on a little girl. She even got out of bed, and for a second—before that tip was uncovered and shown to be either a lie or the wrong girl—she was back to normal. She smiled and made breakfast and kiss us goodbye for school. She was our mom again, however by the time we got home, she was curled up in bed, crying again, and the only thing she kissed was another bottle of wine.
"As for Dad. Well, sometimes he didn't even come home. He'd call to let us know it was a bust then he'd stay away for days. He never told us what he was doing, but we knew the business was going to shit. That his partner had taken over, and luckily Spence here wanted to follow in Dad's footsteps so he managed to save our asses from poverty. Barely seventeen and taking care of a household of four. He could have started when he was fourteen or fifteen, but only he knows." He glanced at his father and shook his head. "Well, him and Dad, if he wasn't too distracted running out on us all the damn time."
Carol swallowed hard. "It must have been rough."
"Rough is putting it lightly. Spencer had to drop out of school to take care of us! He was a junior in high school, and he only had a month or two until summer, but Mom was a wreck all the time, and Dad was nonexistent. We had to eat, had to pay our bills, and I couldn't work. I was too young. He busted his ass to afford clothes, the bills, food, and he had to back to get his GED. All the while, Mom and Dad weren't even trying. They were our parents and they just broke down; one drunk and the other gone. It was their job to take care of us no matter what, but the minute you were taken, it's like they forgot we were even alive.
"And I do understand mental illness played a factor, but they could've gotten help. They could have tried just a smidgen harder than they did, but no. No, no, no, no, no. It was all about Carol, all about them, and we were just two little kids roaming the empty house." He clenched his jaw. "I tried to make them see us. I tried it the right way, passing all of my classes and being a good kid. When that didn't work, I broke into the neighbor's house when they were on vacation and stole their China. Mom and her were friends, and Mom commented on the China a lot, so I put it in Mom's room. She didn't even notice. So I went back and stole their home computer. I put that in Dad's office. Of course, he was gone, so that didn't do much."
Reg was discomforted as his son spoke, and he turned his head away from Carol and Spencer in shame. He hated himself for how he acted the years following Carol's abduction. He would give anything to go back and redo that chuck of his life. Life didn't work that way, and his mistakes left scars on his children. All of them, and he would never forgive himself for that.
"The more I stole, the bolder I got. I began to escalate in my crimes, and eventually got in over my head. I got arrested, and they tried me as an adult. I was a couple months shy of my eighteen birthday anyway." He brushed invisible flakes off the table. "And you guessed what happened to me. I went to prison, got my ass handed to me my entire sentence, and you'd think I learned my lesson. Nope. When I was twenty-two, I went back for round two. 'Course about a year into my sentence, Mom and Dad visited me. Carol's still missing, Spencer has the business, and they're on "back on track". They apologize and bawl their eyes out."
His mouth twisted to the side in a crude manner, his eyes darkening with fury, and he shook his head. "It was too late for them to come to me and apologize. I hated them. I wouldn't forgive them for what they did to Spencer, and what they let happen to you, and how they let our life fall to fucking pieces. I still don't know if I forgive them for it." He inhaled and met Carol's eyes. "I do know that after twenty some years later, I finally got the call. Carol just came to see us, and she's coming back for dinner. Come to the house and meet your sister. A happy ending, right?"
"I don't believe in happy endings," she replied.
"Good. That's smart, because there is no happy ending here. You live in another state with a new life. You had a home. You went to college. You're a homicide detective. Early this year you saved a pregnant girl from a crazy cop then you went on to save a little girl and her father while you were kidnapped with them. You were shot taking out a mass murderer, and here you are today at our dining table." He tilted his head side to side. "Carol A. Williams, living the life she'd been dreaming about since she was nine years old. A hero to the people. Practically a saint."
"I'm not saint," she remarked. "Nor am I a hero. I'm just doing the best I can."
"Don't be so modest."
"I'm not. I have a great team of people who assisted me in finding both girls and the mass murderer. Everything I do isn't simply me doing them alone." She rested her hands in her lap. "I am sorry for the hardships you suffered following my kidnapping. I can't change facts, but I can tell you the man who kidnapped me is behind bars. I appreciate all you've done for me, and if you ever need me, just call. If you'll excuse me, I think it'd be best I leave now."
"After all this time, you're just gonna up and leave?" he shot out of his seat. "Who do you think you are?"
"I'm trying to resolve this peacefully is all."
"Peace doesn't exist. You live long enough, you find that out." He threw his cloth napkin on his plate. "I'm out of here, but thanks for finally calling us up after thirty-seven years." He bolted out of the dining room.
The slam of the front door reverberated through the house, the dining room was still, and no one could look at anyone. The nicely prepared meal grew lukewarm as the silence engulfed the room. Everything crumbed to pieces following the events her kidnapping, and it made sense. After all it only took one missing piece to destroy puzzle.
