AN: This is just a fun little oneshot that I wrote in response to a Tumblr request/prompt.
I own nothing from the Walking Dead. I do own my own story lines and characters.
I hope you enjoy! Please let me know what you think!
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Carol was not an eavesdropper.
OK. Maybe she was an eavesdropper. She really never set out to overhear things, but it just seemed to happen sometimes—and once she was listening, she was simply drawn into things.
The sun wasn't even entirely up and the morning was already beautiful. It was proof that the rest of the day was, more than likely, going to be beautiful. It was a cool day, but it wasn't cold, and Carol intended to take the best advantage of it that she could and thoroughly air and clean the little house in anticipation of the coming winter when everything would be closed up tightly to keep them all "snug as a bug in a rug," as she teasingly told Sophia every time they talked about the preparations being done to make sure that they wouldn't have to winter too hard.
The fire was already built in the fire pit, and the large pot was already hanging on its iron hook—the water warming for the first batch of laundry that Carol would do. Daryl had set it up for her while she'd been making breakfast, and now she was stringing up the extra lines she would need to hold all the linens that she intended to wash and hang out to dry in the sun.
She wouldn't have eavesdropped at all if she hadn't needed Daryl to take the pot off the flames for her—knowing that he would be upset with her if she were to move it, herself, since it was so heavy when it was full of water.
She'd only been going to find him at the little barn, where she knew he'd be checking his gear, when she'd overheard the conversation. She should have interrupted them, surely, and announced her presence—or maybe she should have simply gone back to her chores and waited a while to ask him for his help before he left to go hunting—but, instead, she'd found herself hugging close to a nearby tree and eavesdropping just where she could see Daryl and Sophia without them seeing her.
"Ask your mother," Daryl said, somewhat shaking his head in response to whatever it was that Sophia had asked.
Sophia's back was turned to Carol, but she could tell by her daughter's body language that this was serious, and that Sophia was already gearing up to have to argue her point.
Sophia was, more than likely, somewhere around the age of nine or ten—give or take some time. The truth of the matter was that they'd stopped counting the passage of time the way that they used to count it. When the world had come to an abrupt end—or, at least, that's what they had thought had happened back then—calendars and dates didn't have the same importance that they'd once had. A virus had made it so that the dead didn't stay that way, and everything had turned into a fight for survival.
In the earliest days, Carol and her young daughter might not have survived if it hadn't been for Daryl. Daryl wasn't Sophia's father—her father had been killed by one of the flesh-eating creatures, which they called Walkers, not even a month after the world had turned upside down—but Daryl was more of a father to Sophia than her biological father would have ever been, even if he had lived. And Daryl was, without a doubt, a far better husband than Carol ever had in the abusive asshole that had fed the Walkers before feeding the worms.
Now, Carol lived with her little family in a quiet little house in the country—far removed from any sign of civilizations past or present. She liked it that way. They had found a life where, even if the Walkers still roamed, they could breathe. They had learned how to survive—and they would teach their children that. Sooner, perhaps, rather than later.
"Don't you think maybe you oughta ask her, Daddy?" Sophia asked. Her hands were on her hips and she somewhat wiggled her whole body with her words. Still, the words were practically dripping with sweetness. Sophia wasn't Daryl's biological child, but that didn't mean that she didn't have him wrapped around her little finger.
"You just don't wanna ask her 'cause you know she ain't gonna be happy with you goin' outside the fences, Soph," Daryl challenged.
"I've been practicin' with killin' the Walkers off the fence pikes," Sophia said. "You said it yourself. Don't nothin' scare me, Daddy."
Daryl laughed quietly.
"That may be so," Daryl said. "But—a little bit of bein' scared is a good damn thing sometimes. Goes a long way to keepin' you alive."
"You're not scared of anything," Sophia protested, a hint of defensiveness making her tone harsh.
"Oh, hell yeah I am," Daryl protested, biting back with just about the same amount of harshness in his own tone. "The thought of somethin' happenin' to you or your mama scares the shit outta me."
"But not Walkers," Sophia said.
"Not Walkers—not themselves," Daryl said. "But what they can do? Yeah—and you oughta be scared of 'em, too. If you're not, maybe there ain't even no need in askin' your mama, because I'd rather you stay in here."
"I am a little scared of 'em, Daddy," Sophia ceded. "I just—didn't want you think I was a baby anymore."
"It don't make you a baby to be scared of things you ought to be scared of," Daryl said.
"So—can I go with you?" Sophia asked. "I'm gettin' pretty good with my bow. I can hit the target almost all the time. And I can help you carry food back."
"Ask your mama," Daryl said with a sigh.
"Please, Daddy? I wanna help. Y'all keep sayin' it's important to get ready for winter, right? So, I wanna help get food for us for the winter. For me, and you, and Mama, and my baby brother."
"You don't know that baby's a boy, Sophia," Daryl said. Carol bit the inside of her mouth so that she didn't laugh and give herself away. This was another argument, entirely, that they'd been having since Carol first told Sophia that she was pregnant—just about the time she was pretty confident that the pregnancy, even if it didn't make it to term, was not going to be hidden any longer. Sophia had immediately decided she was having a baby brother, just like the character in one of her books, and she was holding tight to that belief with both hands. It didn't hurt anyone, of course, but it did worry Daryl that she'd be massively disappointed if their little one ended up being a girl, instead.
Sophia clucked her tongue in annoyance.
"Daddy—that's not the point," she said, sounding almost desperate. "Please? I wanna help!"
"You could help your mama with the washin'," Daryl said. "She could use some help with that. Keep her from hurtin' herself or the baby."
"I wanna go hunting with you!" Sophia said. "Please…just this once, and if I don't do a good job, I'll never ask you again. But don't you think it's important? I gotta know how to hunt in case…in case somethin' happened and you needed me to."
Daryl laughed to himself.
"I said it before, Sophia, and I'ma say it again," Daryl said. "Ask your mama. This ain't a decision that I'm makin' without her. I ain't yankin' this rug out from under her feet. You wanna go—you ask her."
"If she says yes, you'll take me?" Sophia asked.
Carol heard Daryl's hum just as she darted away from the barn as quickly as she could. The baby she was carrying was starting to grow heavy, and she bit back the laughter she felt at herself when she was annoyed by the fact that it noticeably slowed her down. Still, she only needed to get far enough away that nobody would suspect that she'd been eavesdropping at all. She darted as quickly as she could for the woodpile—the closest place where she could pretend that she had business—and picked up a few sticks of heavy wood.
She was still trying to get her breath when Sophia came running over. Daryl was quite a few paces behind her and moving at a considerably slow speed.
"Mama! Mama!" Sophia called as she got close. "Can I go with Daddy out to hunt today? I'ma help him get the food. Can I go?"
Carol's heart tugged, and her stomach squeezed with anxiety. Still, she knew that there were things that Sophia needed to learn, and there were things she needed to do. They would ensure her safety and longevity far better than keeping her too protected under Carol's proverbial aprons and skirts.
"I don't know," Carol said, making Sophia squirm a little. "It's dangerous out there."
"I'ma be careful," Sophia said. "I'll have my knife, and my bow, Mama. And I won't be alone. I'll be with Daddy."
"You're going to have to ask your daddy," Carol said, pretending that she hadn't overheard the conversation at all, and silently congratulating herself for how convincing she sounded.
Sophia turned on a dime and ran back toward Daryl as he approached. He would have heard what Carol had said at this distance.
"Daddy! Daddy!"
"You don't gotta yell, Soph," Daryl said. "I heard her. Go get'cha gear. Remember, though…out there? You gotta be quiet. Use the signs I taught you."
"Yes sir!" Sophia said. She started to dart off and Daryl whistled to catch her attention. She looked at him with question on her features.
"You forgettin' somethin'? What's the rule about leavin' the fences?"
Sophia smiled and ran back as fast as she could. She wrapped her arms around Carol, and Carol dropped the two pieces of wood that she'd picked up off the pile to wrap her arms around her daughter. She bent and kissed Sophia's forehead.
"I love you, Mama," Sophia said. Carol's heart tugged.
"I love you, too," Carol said. "Be careful, Sweetheart."
Sophia smiled and nodded. Then, she patted Carol's belly.
"I love you, too," she told her hopefully-would-be baby brother. Then, she turned abruptly and ran back toward the little barn as fast as she could.
"She wanted me to ask you," Daryl said. "Or just to tell you. But I weren't gonna force your hand like that. I told her she had to ask you herself."
"I appreciate you not forcing it on me like that," Carol said.
"I think she's ready," Daryl said.
"I trust your judgment," Carol said. "You just—keep my baby safe, OK?"
"You know I will, woman," Daryl said reassuringly.
"And—you come back to me, too," Carol added.
"Always do," Daryl said. "Always will. You stay safe and keep this one safe, too, OK? Don't overdo it?"
Daryl pressed his palm to Carol's belly. She covered his hand with her own.
"We'll be fine," she assured him. Daryl leaned and kissed her, and she kissed him back. Whenever he was going outside the fences, for whatever reason, Carol always made sure she gave him a kiss worth holding onto—and he did the same.
"I love you, woman," Daryl said sincerely when the kiss broke.
"I love you, too, Pookie," Carol said with a teasing wink. His cheeks ran red, but she knew that he liked when she teased him with the affectionate nickname—something she knew he never would have allowed anyone else to call him.
He smiled at her and licked his lips—a spark of something burning in his eyes.
"Did you need some of this wood—or you just…coverin' up?" Daryl asked.
Carol felt struck. She tried to play it off, though.
"What do you mean?" She asked. "I need—a few more sticks for the fire."
"Fine," Daryl said. He bent down and picked up the ones she'd dropped and added a few more to his load. "Then, let me carry it over there and I'll get the water off the fire for you. I figured that's what you was comin' after anyway." Carol looked at him open-mouthed and he winked at her, laughing quietly and shaking his head. "Don't look so damn surprised, woman. It's been at least a couple months since you was slim enough to hide behind a trunk that size."
