AN: Here we are, another chapter here.
I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
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"It's just that—the mountains have that rough terrain," Daryl said. "If we pick a spot that's kinda elevated, even, we could almost guarantee that they ain't gettin' up there or they ain't gettin' up there fast. Maybe it ends up not even bein' worth it to 'em to try. They keep goin' on the smoother ground so they can cover more ground—if that's important to 'em."
Carol smiled to herself and looked out the window of the truck at the passing trees and the start of rolling hills. Their speed was good, but it wasn't too fast. They didn't want to be moving too quickly to respond to some kind of sudden surprise. Hitting a Walker wouldn't be too terrible at slower speeds, but it could cause a lot more trouble for them and the truck at higher speeds.
Carol liked looking at the passing landscape, but mostly she turned her head to hide the expression of amusement from Daryl. She would have done anything not to risk hurting his feelings. He was clearly nervous and he seemed almost terrified that Carol and T-Dog would hold against him the fact that he'd been the one to choose their current destination.
In all honesty, he hadn't chosen their destination as much as he'd simply been the one to present the destination that they all agreed sounded the best.
They had sat together, as a group, to discuss where they might go when they left the little house where they'd holed up for several days to collect themselves and give anyone who might break away from Rick's group the opportunity to locate them. Neither Carol nor T-Dog felt particularly strongly about where they should go or why any course of action was preferable over any other. Whether they went east or west or north or south, it all seemed the same to Carol. T-Dog agreed. When neither of them felt like they knew where they were going or where they might want to go, any way of getting to the unknown destination seemed reasonable.
It had been Daryl who had studied over it for some time and had presented to them the idea that they should head toward the mountains for the protection that the geographical features of the region would offer them.
Daryl's reasoning was sound and nobody had any complaints or better suggestions. His recommendation to go there was made in an attempt to benefit everyone involved. With extremely clear roads, they could be looking for a place to settle down in three hours. Though it would likely take them longer than that to reach their destination, at least they finally had a destination in mind. It felt like they had a goal, and that was something that they hadn't had for some time.
Even if the roads weren't clear, and even if they had to stop several times along the way to regroup or search for supplies, they would still find a place to settle before the winter settled around them and made things difficult or even impossible.
It seemed, though, that Daryl was still concerned that Carol, in particular and as his riding companion, was going to feel as though he were unjustly making decisions for her.
Carol was used to having her decisions made for her. She'd gone directly from her parents' home to Ed's home. And, though Carol had loved her parents, they'd been controlling enough to teach her the very important lesson that her job in life was to obey and, by obeying, she was being the best person that she could be. Carol had gone from accepting that her parents would decide everything about her life to accepting that she was practically her husband's property and he would do with her what he pleased. Her parents had taught her that, for most of her life, she wasn't old enough—and therefore wasn't wise or experienced enough—to make important decisions. Ed had taught her that she wasn't smart enough to make the right ones—since only he knew what was really right for them. For her.
When Ed was dead, and Carol might have tasted freedom for the first time in her life, Rick had been there to make the decisions. In a way, Rick's presence at that moment had been something of a relief. Carol wasn't sure that she was ready to make decisions—at least not all of them and not all at once—for herself and her daughter. She hadn't practiced the skill, after all, very much. When Rick took control of the group and steered them all in any direction that he found pleasing, Carol followed because there was little else to do. She didn't feel strong enough or prepared enough to face this world on her own and, honestly, it only seemed natural that Rick should be there to make all the decisions that she would ultimately accept and follow.
Daryl worried that any decision he made—or simply contributed to, it seemed—would be seen as him trying to impose some unwanted will on their little group. His concern about how they felt about his decisions set him apart from the men who had already been responsible for making decisions in Carol's life.
Daryl seemed to care about whether or not Carol approved of those decisions and—to further set him apart—Carol thought that every decision he made was actually made in an effort to benefit all of them. Carol felt like Daryl's suggestions were in her best interest, and that was something entirely foreign to her.
She hadn't told anyone about the baby because she wasn't used to people worrying about her best interest at all.
She'd only begun to suspect that she might be pregnant at the rock quarry. In the beginning, it was only barely a hunch. There was a possibility that something was there. Her period was late—and it kept getting later. Of course, she was able to put that down to quite a few things. They'd been without proper nutrition for a while. They were living under extreme stress. Those were things that could change her cycle. She was also getting older and, though she believed she was still too young for menopause when she came from a family of women who hadn't gone through "the change" until quite late in life, she'd even gone so far as to convince herself that she was simply menopausal.
She didn't know how to care for a baby in this world, and she'd been terrified of introducing such a burden to the group—especially while her husband had been alive.
With Ed dead, Carol had worried a little less about the possibility of having a child, but she still hadn't found the idea comforting. She couldn't imagine that the group would be pleased with the addition of one more mouth to feed or the risk that a crying infant might cause.
At the CDC, she'd submitted to the blood test just the same as everyone else. She'd held her breath for a few beats of time while Jenner had studied the results of the tests, but he hadn't said anything. Either she wasn't pregnant—which was what she chose to hold onto at the moment—or else he had been looking for something very specific that had kept him from noticing anything that wasn't exactly what he'd been searching for.
Or, in hindsight, maybe he simply assumed that Carol knew, or that such news wouldn't matter in light of the fate to which he thought he was condemning them all.
The CDC had exploded, but most of their group had escaped the explosion. They'd ran—without a clear destination in mind—until they'd ended up caught in a traffic snare on the highway. A herd of the undead and roaming Walkers had come along while they'd been essentially trapped there, and Carol's young daughter, Sophia, had gone missing.
When Sophia had disappeared, Carol had gotten so preoccupied with worry about her daughter that she'd forgotten entirely about the fact that she might be pregnant. She'd ignored it as though there were no symptoms and no concerns about what the future might hold. The only thing that had mattered to her was holding Sophia again and having her back—safe and sound.
Carol had been halfway convinced that nothing would matter, anyway, if Sophia wasn't found because she'd simply die from a broken heart.
She hadn't died, though. Not even when Sophia had come out of Hershel's barn as a one of the monsters that inhabited their world now. Even though her heart had shattered—and she'd felt every shard of it cutting her as it had exploded into pieces—she hadn't died.
And she hadn't told anyone about the baby she carried—not even as she became more certain that it was there.
Because Lori was pregnant, and she hadn't hesitated to announce her pregnancy. Everyone was immediately occupied with her and her needs. Even Carol had become entirely occupied with Lori's needs.
Maybe a part of her had convinced herself that it didn't matter. Lori's baby would survive. Hers would not. It seemed that was simply the order of things these days.
And it had likely become close to being true.
Carol knew that her little one hadn't had what it needed so far to thrive. It was growing, but it was growing like a weed through the cracks in concrete—in spite of its circumstances and against all odds. It certainly wasn't growing because of the care that it had been shown.
She'd been afraid to love it. She'd been afraid to even care. She'd feared openly acknowledging it, because she feared that would make her care more. Bringing the little one to light might somehow break through her current self-created and self-imposed numbness.
Since Daryl had uncovered her secret, though, she felt entirely different than she had even hours before his discovery. She felt cared for. She felt that the child she'd been hiding was cared for. She'd rested—truly rested—for the first time in more time than she could even recall. She'd eaten until she was full and then she'd done the same thing again at the following meal. She'd drank water when she was thirsty until she wasn't thirsty any longer.
And, for the first time, she was truly acknowledging the existence of the baby. And, without wanting to give herself too much false hope, she was beginning to consider the possibility that it might survive.
In response, it seemed, her little one had wanted to thank her for the care. She'd felt—or at least she'd let herself notice—the first fluttering movements of the small thing just that morning as she'd been preparing their breakfast so that they could eat before packing up to start their move.
Now, as she rode beside Daryl, she rested her hand over her belly, curious to see if the feelings belonged entirely to her or if they might be detected by the outside world.
And Daryl worried that she might feel offended by the fact that he'd brought to her the first feelings of hope that she'd felt in some time.
Carol listened to Daryl's stammered attempts to justify something that needed no more justification for a few moments more and then she finally sighed and turned to face him instead of watching the rolling landscape as it ran past the window of the truck.
"The mountains are the best choice," Carol said. "I'm glad you thought of them. Otherwise—I don't think I would have thought of them and T wasn't sure where to go. There's no telling where we might have ended up."
"You like the mountains?" Daryl asked.
"I loved the mountains even before all of this," Carol said. "I love the idea of—how safe I think they'll be. I'm excited that we're going to have a place to call home."
A quick smile flashed across Daryl's lips. Carol saw it even though he swallowed it down as quickly as was humanly possible. He hummed, rolled down his window, and fidgeted around to find a cigarette, one-handed, in the pack that he pulled out of his pocket. Carol took his lighter before he could light it and lit it for him. He eyed her almost suspiciously before he accepted that there was no trick to her offer and let her light the cigarette that dangled from his lips. Then he thanked her.
It was only then that he seemed ready to even respond to her approval of his plan.
"Home," he said. "Kinda—like that."
"Better than spending the next—however many years on the road," Carol said. "Until we all die of old age, exposure, starvation or…or those things."
"We'll find somethin' in the mountains," Daryl said. "Nice cabin, maybe. Couple cabins, even. We'll have time to get settled. Meat, wood, water…we'll have it all."
"Before the winter comes," Carol supplied, having heard it several times in the past few days while they worried over what was to come.
Daryl cleared his throat.
"'Fore the—baby comes," he said.
Carol caught that he flicked his eyes in her direction, but he settled them back on the almost empty highway before she could be entirely certain that they'd sought out her immediate reaction to his concern. She turned back to look out her window and hide the smile that she swallowed down.
"Before the baby comes," she echoed. "Daryl…?"
"Hmmm?" He hummed.
"Thank you for—thinking of a good place for all of us. A safe place."
"Hope it is safe," Daryl said.
"It will be," Carol assured him. "We'll make it that way."
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AN: As I'm continuing this, any all suggestions are appreciated. If there's something you'd like to see/think would be cool to see, I'm more than open to suggestions. Thanks for reading, and thank you for commenting and reviewing to let me know that you're reading!