"The DL for declaring candidacy – "
"- The DL?" Tara interrupts Eugene.
The Council is seated around the circular table in the Mayor's Office / Council Chambers / Town Library in the historic mansion, with the fireplace burning and the great double oak doors closed.
"Deadline."
"I thought DL meant down low," Jesus says.
"It's hard to keep up with his acronyms," Enid agrees.
"The point is," Aaron brings the conversation back on topic, "the deadline for declaring candidacy is tomorrow. That gives the candidates a full six weeks to make their cases to the people before the election in January. And so far," he tips his hand toward Carol across from him, "only Carol and Roderick have declared for the mayor's position. And only Tara and I have submitted our paperwork to run for Council again. Jesus, I didn't even see a statement of intent to run from you." He flips through the papers on the clipboard before him.
"That's because I'm not running again."
"What?" Aaron asks. "Why not?"
"At least one of us has to be home more for Gracie. And you're probably going to be Council Chairman again."
"Can we discuss this later?" Aaron asks.
"There's nothing to discuss. I'm not running again."
"We'll discuss it later," Aaron insists, and the other Council members shift uncomfortably in their chairs.
"I'm stepping down, too," Enid says. "Siddiq wants to run, and if he does, and he wins, I'll probably end up Director of Health, which is what I want. This was a good experience for me, but I think I'd be more useful in that role, and Siddiq wants to step down from it and try serving on the Council instead."
"I'm joining the aforementioned Exodus myself," Eugene announces. "At this juncture, I would prefer to serve as Director of Energy, now that I have thoroughly educated myself on a variety of alternative sources of power and our current director is expecting offspring."
"This is going to be a huge turnover," Carol says. "Has anyone else put their name in for the Council? Other than Aaron, Tara, and Siddiq?"
Aaron glances down at his clipboard. He lifts three pages. "Father Gabriel."
"I suppose he figures that's one way to get his balcony," Carol says with a smile. "But I'm sure he'll make a useful member of the Council. He has his finger on the pulse of the town, and he has so many contacts through his church. Anyone else?"
"Cyndie," Aaron says.
"Well Oceanside didn't take any time in acclimating," Eugene observes.
"That's it?" Carol asks. "So we already know who our Council is going to be?"
"Unless someone else puts in before tomorrow's deadline," Aaron says.
"Well, at least we'll have a full Council. Next order of business?"
Aaron takes a sheet off the clipboard and sets it in the center of the circular table. "Application for immigration and permanent residence."
Carol moves it toward herself, but instead of reading it, she asks. "Who is this man? And why does he want to settle here?"
"His name's Dale," Aaron answers, and Carol is struck with an unexpected pang as she recalls the old quarry camp for the first time in years. She and Daryl are the only two survivors from those days. It's sad and reassuring at once to think they've known each other since the beginning of the end. "He's one of the Kingdom's gardeners," Aaron continues. "He's going to cohabitate with Beatrice."
"I thought she was a lesbian," Tara says in surprise.
"No," Aaron says. "Or maybe she's bisexual, but she's been to the Kingdom frequently, both since she's moved here and when she was at Oceanside, to consult with the knights for purposes of mutual defense. She and this man struck up a relationship. The King is offering to send two crates of fresh vegetables with him for admission."
"Four crates," Carol says.
"We could use another gardener," Aaron tells her. "Someone who knows his way around a greenhouses for the coming winter. We have a lot of framers, but Dale has skill in this particular area. And housing isn't a problem. He'll just move into Beatrice's trailer. I say we accept the offer."
"We can't lower the immigration fees just because we like his skills," Carol insists.
"Why not?" Tara asks. "Why should the fees be the same regardless of skill level?"
"The price of admission is low to begin with," Carol reasons. "The last person we sent permanently to the Kingdom, we sent with two deer's worth of sausage and jerky. The Kingdom can pay tit for tat."
"All in favor of reducing the price of admission?" Aaron asks. Only he and Tara raise their hands. "Then it stays at four creates. All in favor of approving the application at a price of four crates of vegetable for admission?"
All five hands go up on the Council. Carol doesn't vote, though she does have veto power – she can throw anything back to the Council for re-deliberation, and a unanimous vote is then required to override her veto. But there's no reason to veto a unanimous decision, and she has no objection to the application anyway.
"I'll write the King tonight," Carol says. "And tell him we'll grant the application if he increases the fee to four crates."
After the Council meeting, Carol exits the mansion to find Judith and R.C. playing jacks with Hershey on the cement porch. "Hey," she says. "When did you get here?"
"An hour ago," Judith answers in that easy tone of self-confidence she's developed lately. The girl slams the ball on the porch and the jacks go flying up. Hershey steps back as Judith's hand shoots out and flits back and forth to catch three before the rest can fall to the ground.
"Auntie Carol?" Hershey asks as Judith hands him the ball. "When can I get my own gun like Judith?"
Carol glances down at the too-big-revolver that pulls Judith's belt downward. "When you're ten like Judith," Carol tells him. "If you pass the range test."
"But Judith had hers when she was eight!"
"Not happening," Carol tells him. "Where's your mother, kids?"
"Stabling the horses," R.C. tells her.
Carol finds Michonne feeding her stallion a sugar cube from the open palm of her hand. Her katana rises above her shoulder blades, peeking out behind her long dreads like an old, familiar friend. Michonne hangs her saddle over the door of the stall and then turns to greet Carol.
"What brings you here?" Carol asks.
"Two of the solar batteries Daryl traded us for penicillin turned out not to work. I've been sent to get replacements. Well, I volunteered. R.C. wanted to play with Hershey and Judith …"
"She wanted to play with Daryl?" Carol asks.
Michonne smiles and nods. "And Ezekiel wanted me to extend you a personal invitation to the Christmas play since apparently he hasn't received a response about how many people are coming."
"What play?"
"Yeah. I told him he shouldn't have trusted Daryl to relay the message." As they walk together outside of the stables, Michonne tells him about the Kingdom's production of A Christmas Carol. "I'm sure there will be hot chocolate and caroling before or afterwards, too. Just write him and let him know how many are coming. And I hope you're among them. I think he most wants to see you. It's been almost two years."
Ezekiel came to the Hilltop for her inauguration, but he otherwise rarely leaves the Kingdom. Carol understands why – she's just as bound by duty at the Hilltop. She's been on one supply run in two years, and one trading trip to Oceanside, before the hurricane destroyed it.
Now that they're passing a picnic pavilion, Michonne waves toward one of the tables. "I also came because I wanted to talk to you about something."
Carol follows her beneath the pavilion and sits on the hard, cold, wooden bench across a table from her. "Anything you ask of me, you know I'll have to run by the Town Council."
"Not this you won't," Michonne assures her. "This is personal." She looks at her fingertips resting on the surface of the picnic table. "How would feel if I started dating Ezekiel?"
Carol smiles. "I guess Henry's read on the situation was right."
"What do you mean?"
"He said Ezekiel shaved when you mentioned you two looked like brother and sister."
Michonne smirks. "He did. He looks good, though. Ten years younger, and yet it makes him look leaner and meaner for some reason, too. But that wasn't my first hint of his interest. He's been making subtle moves for almost six months now. I've been pretending I don't notice, but I'm starting to think of responding. Would it bother you?"
"No," Carol says. "Why would it bother me?"
"You two were engaged."
"I was the one who ended it," Carol reminds her.
"I know, but, there's an unspoken rule between friends. No exes."
"I appreciate the consult," Carol tells her. "But really, I'm more than fine with it. I think it would be great for you. It's been a long time."
Michonne swallows hard and nods solemnly. "I was planning just to be a widow for life, like Maggie was. But my life has already gone on years longer than I ever anticipated it would in this world. And now it looks like I might die an old lady. And Ezekiel…" She shrugs. "I have to admit…he can be charming."
"I know." Carol peers at her curiously. "You didn't really think I'd have a problem with it, did you?"
"No. But you're my oldest female friend in this world, Carol. And I wanted to pay you the courtesy."
Carol's touched by the gesture, and struck by the truth of Michonne's statement. They've known each other since the prison. She's known Michonne longer than anyone else in this world besides Daryl. There's a strange, tangled feeling in her stomach. Some of it is sadness – all these reminders of loss – but the sadness is mixed with joy. That life in the prison seems so very far away now. She'd hoped, in vain, for a settled life back then. But even then, she'd never imagined what this broken, lawless world could become, how it might grow, or how central and settled a place she might find in it, with Daryl not only still by her side, but in her bed.
Back then, she just kept pressing on…but now, she's arrived.
[*]
Carol offers to put Michonne and Judith up in Henry's old room for the night. R.C. will camp out on Hershey's floor, which probably means the boys will get no sleep and Hershey will dose off in school tomorrow, but it's rare he gets to see his little friend, so Carol will probably wait until after midnight to tell them to quiet down.
For now, the kids are playing outside, Daryl has not returned from the hunt, and Carol is chopping up squash on a wooden cutting board on her kitchen counter in preparation for dinner. Michonne meanwhile sets the table for six.
"So," Michonne asks as she places the glasses on the table. "What's he like in bed?"
"Daryl?" Carol slides the chopped veggies into the pot that is boiling on the woods stove.
"No. Ezekiel."
"Oh. Yeah, no. Maybe we shouldn't compare notes on that."
"I don't have any notes to compare. I just don't want any surprises."
"Well, don't worry. With Ezekiel, you won't get any."
The last glass hovers in mid-air for a moment before Michonne sets it down. "That bad?"
"No! No, I shouldn't have said that." Daryl was right when he came into her dressing room on her wedding day. "Ezekiel and I just didn't have any chemistry. But that doesn't it mean you two won't. I mean, your two practically hated each other in the War with the Whispers."
They had a lot of heated disagreements about strategy. Michonne was sure her plan would lead to the destruction of the Whispers, and Ezekiel was sure her plan would lead to the destruction of Alexandria. Both turned out to be right. But for all their disagreements, Ezekiel valued Michonne's skill enough to make her Knight Commander almost immediately upon her settlement in the Kingdom.
Michonne puts a hand on her hip. "And that's a good thing?"
Carol smiles, "Well, it means there's already been sparks flying between you."
Michonne chuckles.
"Ezekiel and I, we respected each other. And we were fond of each other. But we weren't passionate about each other. It's different with Daryl. It's…intense. Emotionally."
"Like it was with me and Rick," Michonne says sadly. She shuffles one of the place settings into a straighter line, as though she just needs to busy herself.
"It's been years," Carol says quietly.
"I know." She stops messing with the place settings and rests a hand on the back of a wooden chair. "You know, Ezekiel's not corny with me the way he was with you. I mean, he's a gentleman. As always. And he does love his Shakespeare. But he's not corny."
Carol told Daryl that after Ed, corny was good, and it was, at the time. She wanted to be treated like a queen for once in her life. It felt good to be respectfully and consistently wooed like that, to be courted as slowly as she wanted.
Daryl doesn't treat her like a queen. He doesn't put her up on a pedestal. He calls her on her bullshit. He sees straight into her like an x-ray beam. Ezekiel loved the best parts of her, but he never knew the worst parts of her. Daryl knows them all. Every weakness, every wound, every resentment, every fear, every flaw. And he loves her anyway. Maybe he even loves her more because of all those wounds.
It was a year after the break-up before Carol realized that Ezekiel was corny precisely because he didn't want to get to know her too well. He wanted the fantasy as much as she did.
"That's a good sign," Carol says.
Michonne studies her like she's not quite sure how to interpret those words. "Maybe so. I still miss Rick. Every day. I'm not looking for that kind of love again, but I'd like to have some fun. Some companionship. Hell, an orgasm I don't have to induce myself!"
Carol snorts.
Michonne shrugs. "Maybe it will grow into something more. Maybe it won't. But in the meantime, I think I just want to be romanced a little bit."
"Well if you just want to be romanced, there's no better man to do it."
"Did you know he used to be in an R&B band in college?"
"Ezekiel?" Carol asks. "No." She shakes her head in disbelief. "He never mentioned that to me."
"I found a saxophone in a storage closet in the old band hall. I think I'm going to polish it up, see if I can get a guy to…what do you do with old saxophones? Do you tune them?"
"I have no idea." Carol stirs the soup.
"Anyway, I'm going to get it in shape and then give it to him for his birthday in two weeks. Who knows, I might even get a serenade."
The barking of Merle is the first clue that Daryl is home. Judith's squeal of "Uncle Daryl!" is the second.
He must linger outside with the kids for a while, because the door doesn't open until Carol already has the soup finished and on the table. She takes one look at Daryl and says, "Go wash up before dinner."
"Was gonna," he mutters. He nods to Michonne, says, "Good to see ya," and turns and heads out to the handpump.