AN: Here we are, another chapter here.
I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
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Carol was sitting at the table and she was writing something in a notebook. Daryl was fresh out of the shower, having bothered to do nothing more than put pants on, and he could still feel the coolness of the air around him reminding him that he'd always done a pretty piss poor job at drying off—even if they had towels that were ten times bigger than the rags they'd used to dry themselves at Region Thirty Three.
"Where'd you get that?" Daryl asked. Carol jumped slightly and then looked over her shoulder at him. He muttered a quiet apology for startling her.
"This?" She asked, gesturing toward the notebook. Daryl nodded. "Came in the box. By the door. They brought it just after you got in the shower. Wine for me. Beer for you. I put your beer in the refrigerator."
Daryl walked to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. He picked up one of the bottles of beer and turned it around in his hand. It was warm and it was from a company that he'd never heard of before—of course he assumed that a great number of companies he had once heard of were more than likely out of business. The world was new again. Some of it may have been simply put on pause, but most of it was starting over from scratch. He counted the twelve bottles and then went to the box that was still standing open on the floor. He rifled through its contents and checked it from the list that they'd provided the day before when they'd gone to breakfast.
"Everything here," Daryl said.
"Almost," Carol responded.
He hummed. There was one item on the list that, instead of receiving a check beside it, was crossed out.
"Condoms," he said.
"I guess they don't make them anymore," Carol mused. He turned to look at her and straightened up. He laughed to himself and bit at the piece of skin on the edge of his thumb that he'd been trying to work loose all day.
"It was worth a try?" Daryl asked.
He didn't know what else he could say about it. They were hovering around some kind of point—and Daryl could feel that oscillation—even if he wasn't entirely sure what that point was.
The first night they'd simply slept together. Like brother and sister, they'd shared the same bed and shared the first really good night's sleep that either of them had had in a while. Their first full day had been spent alternating between community meals—which hardly seemed "community" based at all since they were still learning the lay of the land and hadn't found anyone they knew in the amount of time given to them to sit and eat—and simply sitting around their house. Last night they'd slept together, again, like brother and sister—each keeping to their side of the bed. Breakfast, this morning, had been a little more organized but it was clear that their "overseers" were working out kinks in their system still and it would continue to run like a madhouse until they had more time to see what their project looked like in practice. They had two days more of the boredom before they'd be allowed to discuss jobs. They were told these days were to help them "settle in" and contemplate their new lives, but it was clear that the real goal of these days was to bore everyone into looking for project-supported ways to pass the time.
Their television, after all, only had one channel and it reminded Daryl of the weather channel. It was nothing but "community news" and it rolled the same messages through on a loop. You could watch it for a while, but eventually your brain started to go numb. He was beginning to long for the prison recesses just for the chance to go outside and rid himself of some energy.
And though they'd discussed the possibility of giving in and spending their time doing more enjoyable activities—of which they'd probably become bored after a while—they'd been waiting to see if their superiors meant what they said about reproduction not being a "requirement".
The fact of the matter was, it might not be a requirement, but it was coming highly recommended.
Carol just hummed at him.
"Worth a try," she echoed, not looking up from her notebook.
Daryl walked toward her and he half expected her to cover the notebook with her hand or arm. She didn't, but he didn't try to actually read what she was writing there.
"What—uh—what'cha writing?" Daryl asked.
Carol laughed quietly to herself like he'd asked her an amusing question.
"I don't know," she admitted. "I just wanted to write something. Right now? I'm just—writing down thoughts."
"About?" Daryl asked.
Carol shook her head.
"Anything I need to get out of my head," she said. "Anything I need to—just get out for a little while. I used to write a lot. I journaled and—it helped. At least, I thought it did."
"You feeling better?" Daryl asked. He went over to the couch and sat down. He picked up the stack of playing cards that he kept shuffling through every now and again. He was trying to teach himself to do magic tricks. Of course, that whole idea might have come easier if he'd actually known where to begin to do a magic trick.
"I think so," Carol said.
"Then it's worth it," Daryl commented. "Ain't like there's a whole lot else to do here. You'd think they'd let our asses out for recess or something. Feels a little like the walls are closing in. Can't even open the windows for air."
"You're claustrophobic?" Carol asked.
"If I am, didn't know I was," Daryl replied.
"I am," Carol said. "I have been for a long time. Not here. The space has got to be tighter. Smaller. No chance of getting air. Here? There's air that comes in through the cracks, don't you think?"
Daryl stomach turned. Her voice changed slightly at the end and he realized that, without meaning it at all, he might have given her something to worry about that she hadn't thought about at all—something that could end up turning bad for the both of them.
"Yeah," he said quickly. "Of course. I didn't mean there weren't no air. Just meant—wish we had the freedom to go outside. Plenty of air. The windows ain't sealed properly. House was thrown together. Gonna be drafty in the cold."
He rolled his eyes to the side to watch her without actually watching her. She was nodding, even if she made no sound to go with the gesture. She was still leaning over the notebook, but she wasn't writing. She was just turning the pencil around in her fingers. It was no different, really, than Daryl flipping through the cards without aim.
They were used to boredom, and now they had more to entertain them than they did before, but maybe boredom was different when you didn't spend every waking moment just waiting for the shoe to drop and someone to whisk you off somewhere to beat the shit out of you just because they were having a bad day. It was an improvement, but it didn't mean that it didn't come with its own set of frustrations.
Daryl went back to shuffling his cards, leaving Carol to scratch things in her notebook, but he looked back at her when she spoke again and called for his attention.
"Do you believe anything they're saying about this project?" Carol asked.
"What you mean?" Daryl asked. "We're here. Right where they said we'd be. Looks like—everything they've said so far they're doing. Didn't plan meals too well, but I guess they're working the kinks out."
"Do you believe there's freedom after this?" Carol asked. "That—we've just got to jump through their hoops to prove something? Prove our—humanity? Or our ability to..."
"Play by their rules, more'n anything else," Daryl mused.
"You believe it?" Carol asked again.
Daryl shrugged to himself.
"Got two choices," he said. "Believe it or don't. Either way—we're here now. Two ways out. The freedom they're promising or we die. Even if they don't give us some kinda absolute freedom? We got more than we had."
Carol hummed. She turned in her chair to somewhat recline in it sideways. She didn't drop the pencil. Instead she kept it in her fingers as something to toy with while she worked on something that she was very clearly thinking about.
"If we had absolute freedom," she said, "what happens then?" Daryl hummed in question. "With us?" Carol added. "If we get some kind of freedom—do we stay together? Even if they're not making us play house?"
Daryl's stomach twisted slightly. He hadn't really thought about it. He hadn't considered that there really might be a time when they were as free as they ever were. He hadn't really thought about a time where they made decisions like if they stayed or they went—and who they stayed and went with. He had simply taken what was in front of him, like he almost always did, as the only sure thing that there was.
He shrugged.
"Don't know about you," Daryl said. "But—there really ain't nothin' out there for me. I got nowhere to go. Nowhere to be."
I wasn't anywhere to begin with.
But he kept some things to himself.
"So we'd—stay together?" Carol asked. "That's what you're saying."
Daryl shrugged again.
"I guess that's what I'm saying," Daryl said. "But—it's as much up to you as it is to me."
Carol nodded. She turned in her chair and went back to scratching in her notebook. Daryl assumed the conversation was over for the moment and he shuffled through the deck a few more times before he got up and returned to the fridge to check the status of his beer. It was cooling, but not at an alarming rate. He was being impatient, and he knew it. Refrigerators had never cooled at the speed he was expecting this one to work.
He returned to the living room, but he didn't make it to the couch again before Carol started to speak. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed across his chest, and listened to her. Standing on his feet, the same as pacing the floor, at least gave him something to do—something to get rid of some of the energy.
"I don't even know if I can get pregnant," Carol said. Daryl didn't respond. She was thinking out loud, maybe. She needed him to listen, but anything he said would be unnecessary at the moment—if he even had anything to say. "My daughter—that was so many years ago. I'm one of the oldest people here."
Daryl sucked his teeth.
"I wouldn't say that," he said. "There's a good many people here that's stretching the age thing a little bit. I looked around the cafeteria."
She made a face at him. He'd been right before. His input at the moment wasn't entirely appreciated. She just wanted him to listen. He took the hint and closed his lips.
"They're going to expect me to," Carol said. "They're at least going to expect me to be able to say I'm trying. And if I did? Unless you file a rehousing order then it's going to be your child too." Daryl's stomach churned at that. He was aware of these things, in some dusty corner of his mind, but it was different to hear them said out loud and in his presence. He didn't respond, though, he simply nodded his head to indicate that he was still listening. "How would you feel about that?" Carol asked. Daryl stared at her, but then he realized that, if he was being addressed with a direct question, he was expected to answer. He shook his head.
"Honestly? I haven't thought about it," he admitted. "I mean—I know that's what the hell they got us here for. But I haven't thought about it." He could see on her face that was as close to not answering the question as if he'd simply kept his mouth shut. He swallowed and tried to think through it as quickly as he could. He tried to search for something more in line of what she was expecting. "It would be—what it was. A kid. My kid and your kid—I don't got a better answer than that. Not right now."
Carol chewed her lip and nodded at him.
"And if there was one?" Carol asked. "And they tried—to take it away?"
Daryl wished she'd stop saying some of these things. Every now and again, something she said—something that was usually something he hadn't dedicated much thought to—caught him in the gut like a fist. He could do without an onslaught of those sensations.
"Wouldn't happen," he said. "At least—they'd kill both of us 'fore it did, right?"
"You know, out there? That's why they shot Andrea," Carol said. "They had—my daughter? They had her before I could stop them."
Daryl nodded.
"They shoot me, they just as well shoot me dead," Daryl offered. "They done tortured my ass enough now—I don't guess a bullet would stop me if they didn't place it right to stop me for good."
Carol looked about as sick as he felt. She stewed for a moment, in silence this time, and then she looked at him. She nodded and repeated the gesture a few times until the tension in her features gave way a little.
"If we're going to do this," Carol said. "Then—I want to do it with you. All of it. The whole thing."
Daryl laughed to himself, struck by the tone of her voice.
"Sounds like a business proposition," he said.
"Part of it is," Carol said. "I don't feel like we've been left a choice in the matter on that. But—the other part, I think, is the best kind of...of...declaration I can give right now."
Daryl swallowed. He didn't press to find out what the declaration was. He knew, though, that he couldn't offer her anything better. Not right now. Not yet.
He nodded his head at her. Scratched an itch that suddenly struck him as being something he couldn't ignore.
"Then we're in it," Daryl said, "together. Whatever it turns out to be."
