AN: Here we go, another chapter here.
I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
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As soon as Carol spotted Michonne in the dining hall, the first truly familiar face that she'd seen in some time, she made a bee line straight for the woman and practically threw herself into the seat across from her lest somebody swoop in and steal it in the short amount of time that passed between spotting the woman and crossing the floor to snag the seat. Daryl was coming with his own tray, a few steps behind her, but he didn't feel the same sense of urgency.
Michonne's hand immediately came across the table and wrapped around Carol's and Carol grabbed hers back, relishing for a moment the ability to publically touch a friend without reprimand.
"You look amazing," Michonne said immediately. "You're radiant. Solitary confinement must be agreeing with you."
As soon as Daryl sat down, Michonne nodded her head in his direction and offered his name as greeting. He quickly returned the gesture before turning his attention to T-Dog who sat at Michonne's side and paid close attention to his food.
"It hasn't exactly been solitary," Carol said, casting a glance at Daryl. Michonne smiled at her.
"Well, whatever you're doing," Michonne said, "it's agreeing with you."
"We're being good citizens," Daryl said. "Best behavior. Doing exactly what they expect of us."
"How is the community treating you?" Carol asked, directing her question to fall somewhere between Michonne and T-Dog so that either of them could pick it up. They exchanged glances.
"We're adjusting," Michonne said. "Slowly."
"We're waiting out the time until they get around to finally giving us jobs," T-Dog said. "At least then we get some kind of purpose. We get something we can do."
Daryl snorted, but he quickly got it under control. Even without saying it, Carol could feel what he was thinking. They hadn't exactly had a lot of idle hours in which they'd given much thought to having a purpose. Still, she could understand some of the possible problems confronting Michonne and T-Dog.
"Any word on the jobs?" Carol asked.
"Don't you watch the weather channel?" Michonne asked. Carol glanced at Daryl again and then she turned her face back in time to see Michonne roll her eyes at her. "No word. There's some kind of wrench in the gears for the moment. They're telling everyone to hold tight. Just sit around twiddling your thumbs and eventually they'll let you out of your house."
"Name yet?" Carol asked. "For the community?"
Michonne shook her head.
"End of the week. They're still taking suggestions. I put mine in for Pleasantville and T voted for Cabbage Patch Land," Michonne said. "Three or four times. We had some extra time to kill."
Carol laughed to herself and looked at T-Dog who was almost done with all of the food on his tray.
"How are you holding in there?" Carol asked.
He cut his eyes at Michonne and cleared his throat.
"The old adage wasn't wrong," T-Dog said. "When she's not happy? Nobody's happy. I'm just hoping we get the jobs soon so she can get out and blow off some steam. I need something, for my sanity, that's going to make her at least a little bit happy."
Michonne elbowed T-Dog and Carol caught a smile crossing the woman's lips. Maybe their household arrangement wasn't paradise, and maybe they weren't enjoying their vacation from reality as much as Carol and Daryl were, but it was clear that there was something there. They might not have a romantic relationship—Carol couldn't begin to assert that they were lying about that—but they were certainly developing a certain easiness with each other.
Carol glanced around the crowded mess hall. In an attempt to not have the madness that they'd had the past few days—clearly there were a good number of bugs still being worked out of the system—they were feeding them in shifts now. Carol didn't know if that would be a permanent thing or if they had something else in the works, but for now it at least allowed them all to eat sitting down and allowed for a little more breathing room. At the door, inmates were still filing in to get in line as their "guards" dropped them off with the other guards that were keeping watch out for any trouble that might get stirred up in the mess hall. As far as Carol was aware, though, there hadn't been any issues since they'd arrived.
When Carol saw the guards speaking to one man, she almost didn't recognize the woman on his arm. She might have missed her entirely if she hadn't glanced around the room and clearly shown Carol her face. Carol threw a hand up and waved quickly, catching her attention, before she reached across the table and slapped at Michonne.
"I see something else that's going to make you happy!" Carol declared.
Michonne turned and, as soon as she noticed Andrea, her body language changed entirely. She almost came out of her seat but restrained herself enough to tensely sit there while a guard escorted Andrea and the man that had chosen her to the table. As they neared, Michonne finally got up and wrapped Andrea in a hug. She swayed her body, nearly toppling Andrea and herself to the floor.
"Inmate," the guard warned.
"Oh! She's fine," Andrea declared, returning Michonne's hard hug with almost equal enthusiasm. "She's wonderful." As soon as Andrea seemed to give the "OK," the guard allowed the affection to continue. When they broke, Carol didn't miss Michonne wiping at her eyes as she sat down and T-Dog shifted to allow space between he and Michonne for Andrea to sit. Before she sat, though, she offered her arms to Carol for a hug and Carol met her—even if she didn't squeeze her with the same enthusiasm that Michonne had employed.
The man that Andrea was with stood by awkwardly as he watched the reunion. Carol greeted him as soon as she sat, Andrea had already taken her seat and was already leaning into Michonne who didn't protest the closeness in the slightest.
"Milton," Andrea said, "this is Carol and Michonne. That's Daryl and this is..."
"T-Dog," T-Dog offered when it was clear that Andrea got hung on his name.
"Have a seat, man," Daryl said, apparently noticing that Milton couldn't look more uncomfortable if he actually tried. Milton hesitated, but finally he did accept the seat that put him to Daryl's left and straight across the table from T-Dog. The guard that had brought them in continued to stand at the head of the table. He didn't seem to be leaving like all the other guards.
"We're fine," Andrea said, addressing the guard. "We just need—food."
The guard looked to Milton and Milton nodded and offered a quiet "thank you" in anticipation of food. The guard left them, then, and apparently went to get trays for the both of them.
Carol was sure that something was up. It seemed that Andrea had slipped and, somehow, tumbled into a position where she was, very clearly, a little more important the rest of them. Of course, her importance could be entirely dependent on her proximity to the man that was, if Carol remembered their introductions upon entering the community correctly, practically their president or something of the like.
It was equally clear that Milton—president or otherwise—wasn't feeling exactly at home with all of them and his presence there was drawing the concern of the guards and the interest of some of the other inmates that kept glancing over at their table.
Everyone else at the table seemed to sense it too, because they immediately began trying to engage Andrea and Milton both in idle chat about how things were going—the things that were becoming the new normal of their lives now. Andrea joined in the chat, speculating about jobs and talking about possible names for their community and how lonely she'd been, but Milton just sat stiffly in his place and kept casting glances back toward the serving area. Like T-Dog had been earlier, the man seemed anxious to get his hands on his food and consume his meal.
His meal came quickly enough—faster than it would have been if they'd been expected to wait in line like everyone else—and a guard put a tray down in front of Andrea at the same time as a tray was placed in front of Milton.
"I'm gonna say it," Daryl said, as soon as the guards had let Milton know that he should only ask if he needed anything else and walked back to stand along the wall and watch things, "what's with the VIP service?"
"Milton is a very important member of the community," Andrea said. Milton looked troubled by having this pointed out.
"Yeah, but you're just—Andrea," Daryl said. "LC457."
"LC456F," Michonne corrected quickly. "I'm LC457F."
"Whatever," Daryl said with a snort. "Point is, you're just Andrea."
"I'm Milton's..." Andrea hesitated. She looked to the man but he didn't offer her anything. He was too busy performing some kind of dissection on his food to help Andrea with her wording dilemmas. "Mate." Andrea finally finished. Milton didn't contradict her.
And, maybe, that was the best word for any of them here. They were being paired up to mate. That was, at least as far as Carol could tell, the whole point of this place. Things might change some once they had it up and fully functional, but right now they were simply mating.
Carol turned back to her food, half paying attention to the idle conversation around her, and only looked up again when someone passing by stopped walking. She glanced up, not knowing whether or not to expect trouble. She felt, though, that her body was naturally on guard whether it was necessary or not.
"Mr. Mamet," the woman said. Carol recognized her, but she couldn't put her finger on why at the moment. She was wearing nothing more than the customary "uniform" that everyone who worked for the community was wearing. "I didn't expect to see you out here, dining with the regulars."
There was no bite to her voice and it was clear that the woman knew Milton, even if Carol suspected he might be a difficult man to get to know. He perked up a little, though, at her presence and cleared his throat.
"Dr. Walker," he said. "I thought you would have your meals delivered."
Immediately Carol realized where she recognized her from. She'd been the one who'd dropped by the house with a bag full of "supplies" that she and Daryl hadn't touched. She'd been at the prison, too, and Carol was sure that she'd seen the woman's face more than a few times.
The doctor shook her head.
"There's not much going on right now," she said. "So—sometimes I like to come down here and eat. Gives me a chance to talk to some people. Get some sunlight. See how everything's going. It's Andrea. Right?" She asked, directing her attention to Andrea. Andrea looked at her and nodded. "How are things?"
"Fine," Andrea said. "It's going to be even better if we could get some kind of job."
"Amen," T-Dog asserted.
The doctor looked at Milton.
"Have you heard anything else on the job status?" She asked. He shook his head.
"You would hear about that before me," he said. She smiled.
"Common issues," she said. She shook her head and addressed Andrea and T-Dog at the same time. "As far as I know, they're still working out some details. Looking through the forms you filled out, there's just a lot of juggling that has to go into figuring out how to place so many inmates with specialized backgrounds. If some of you wanted, though, you could put slips in with your order forms. If you were willing to do common jobs? Just—laundry and food preparation? Grounds crew and—construction? They'd probably get people placed more quickly. Maybe even almost immediately. That's what they're needing the most of right now. People to contribute to the basics of building the community."
T-Dog smiled genuinely and Carol could see that everyone else was pleased with this knowledge as well.
"Thanks for the tip," T-Dog offered.
"No problem," the doctor responded. "Ladies? Anything to report? Anything that I should know about?"
Carol's stomach churned a little. She might blame it on the food, but really she knew it was her natural reaction to the fact that she knew exactly what the woman was concerned with—and she didn't know how it might play out for them if they didn't have something to report soon. Michonne shook her head, as Carol expected. Andrea mirrored the response. The woman's eyes fell on Carol. Carol shook her head.
"No," Carol said, "but—I would like the chance to talk to you? In private?"
The woman nodded and renewed her smile.
"All you have to do is pick up your phone," she said. "Tell them you need an escort to the clinic and they'll bring you. I'm pretty wide open right now, so have your shoes on when you call. You won't need to wait long." Carol nodded. "Anything I should be excited about?" The woman asked.
Carol swallowed.
"I'd just like to talk," she said.
"Talking I can do," the woman responded. "Mr. Mamet? Are things going well?"
Carol glanced at Andrea. She had an almost nauseous look on her face that came with the general discomfort of what they were discussing. Milton, though he'd seemed happy with the woman's presence earlier, didn't look too much farther from losing his lunch than Andrea did. He put on a clearly forced smile.
"Great," he said. "We have a lot of hope that—soon. Today is uh—today is an ovulation day."
Carol cringed for Andrea and Andrea drew into herself a little. Her face didn't hide the fact that she didn't really want that broadcast at lunch.
The doctor seemed completely unbothered by it, though. In fact, she offered her congratulations and wished them "luck" before she excused herself by saying that it was getting crowded and she wanted to eat before her food was entirely cold. She reminded all of them to be sure to call as soon as they had anything at all that they wanted to discuss with her.
As soon as she walked off, Carol reached a hand in Andrea's direction and touched her fingertips just as consolation for the fact that—though their lives were a little more private here than they'd been at Region Thirty Three—there was no such thing as privacy.
Andrea sucked in a breath.
"I guess—that just about catches you up to date on me," she said, her face red. She was attempting to let it roll off of her, though. "Really—I just dragged Milton here so that I could find you and let you know that...T? Mich? Don't be surprised when a guard comes to your house this evening. You're—invited to dinner. At our house."
Daryl laughed to himself and bumped Carol.
"And now we're the black sheep," he teased. "Not invited to dinner with the damn royals."
"Some other time," Andrea said. "I promise. Tonight? It's just the four of us."
