Disclaimer: I own nothing.
––
Michonne set a cold compress to Rick's jaw, he winced through his teeth, and he thanked her, holding her hand that was against his jaw. She didn't have to ask why he had a fist-shaped bruise on his lower face. She didn't have to ask why Carol immediately flew up the stairs to her bedroom. The events of why Carol fled to her room and why Rick was holding his jaw were self-explanatory when she heard the rumble of the motorcycle engine coupled with the gate opening.
Rick closed his eyes and tested his jaw, opening and closing his mouth, a twinge of pain shooting through his jaw. He doubted anything was broken, but he'd have a nice shiner for the next couple days. He couldn't be upset with Daryl. They had hidden a massive secret from him regarding his best friend. It didn't sit well with him, within holding this information from Daryl, given that this could be lead to the end of his best friend's life. It wasn't set in stone, but he remembered Lori. And now he had Maggie's loss on his heart. Carol or the baby could meet either—or both—of those ends. Daryl should have known first, being as close to Carol as he was, but Carol might have killed him. She wasn't too thrilled with Michonne knowing, though that was more of how Michonne was treating her, but honestly, she would have found out on her own. She was perceptive.
Still it wasn't his secret to share. He knew he should have told Daryl, but he gave his word. He owed Carol. He cast her out of the prison for killing Karen and David, and he told Morgan he would have done the same thing while they looked for her. She was right then, and he felt any apology he'd given wasn't enough. She mentioned him kicking her out in her note, and she said she wasn't ever going to come back. She wasn't going to return to them, but things happened the way they did, and she wound up saying. He made her think she wasn't welcome in this group, with this family—her family—and that was wrong of him. That was...cruel. He knew in his heart Carol wouldn't have raised a hand or knife or gun to his children yet he said those words to her. He saw the tears in her eyes and dug his words in deeper, brushing away all that she was saying. Because in his eyes she was worse than the flu plaguing the prison, and he didn't consider her to be family anymore. He made a choice that stayed with her, that haunted her as much as killing Karen and David. Had he known her like Daryl knew her, he would have asked how she felt about the whole thing. She said she didn't like, but if he'd pressed he could have broken through that shell and found the woman he'd known since the beginning. Or at least pieces of her.
There was also the fact that he hadn't been there for Lori. He had confirmed daily that she had eaten and was hydrated, but in the end it hadn't been enough. He hadn't done all he could for her, and he lost her. Carl lost his mom. Judith lost her mom. She never would meet Lori, or know how beautiful and kind and protective and fierce she was. Carl had a picture, but it'd been lost with the prison. He didn't want this new baby to only have a picture of Carol to remember her by, and he knew when the time came, it'd be out of his hands, but maybe if he could provide Carol with all she needed, she'd come out of this alive. If she had his—their—unconditional support and protection, if she knew he loved her and had long since forgiven her and knew she was a great woman, an amazing mother, she'd survive whatever would happened in the coming months. It might be a child's hope, but he wanted to know it wasn't a trade: the mother's life for the child's. He wanted Carol to hold her little boy or girl and raise that child to as strong and compassionate and unwavering and resourceful as she was. He wanted to be there with her as this baby and Judith grew, as the next Rhee child grew. So he kept his mouth shut and did as she asked.
He lowered the compress and stood up, walking to the end of the steps where Maggie and Michonne were seated. He said nothing, but his eyes found the silly pictures Carl had taken with Aaron's camera. He smiled, his jaw stinging, and he pressed the compress to it. He hoped he'd see the day Carol and her baby had a picture on that wall.
––
"Hey, Denise." Enid appeared in the doorway, a notebook hugged to her chest, her long hair brushed over her shoulder.
"Hey, Enid." She smiled. "How are you? Need a bandage or anything?"
"No, nothing like that." She neared the blonde doctor. "I'd like to learn from you."
"Learn from me?" Denise cocked her head to the side. "You mean, like a student?"
"Yes." She nodded. "I want to learn how to take of people like you do. I know I'll need certain books and training you might not be able to give, but I want to learn. I want to be able to help people like you do."
"You want to be a doctor?"
"I do."
"Where is this coming from? You never expressed an interest in medical care before."
"With Maggie miscarrying and Carol being pregnant, I realized I want to do more than sit on the sidelines while someone else takes charge. I lost—people who I cared about, because they needed medical attention, medical know how I couldn't provide. I don't want that to happen again." She moved forward. "I'm asking you to please mentor me. I've been reading the books you keep in here when you don't take them to your room, and I'm ready to be taught."
Denise was taken aback by this confession. "Well, I'd love to teach you, but I dunno if I'm the right person."
"You're the only person," Enid corrected. "And I know you can do it."
A weak smile. "All right. Sure. There are a few more texts I'd like you read, the stuff I don't keep down here, so let me know exactly what you've read."
"I've been taking notes, and I'd to review them with you." She smiled and hugged her notepad. "Whenever you're right, that is."
"I'm free now, so let's see what you got."
––
Carol chucked the pregnancy test across the room, where it broke against the wall and fell to the floor, and tears stung in her eyes. She dragged her hands through her hair, sucking oxygen in, and she began to process of composing herself. She was in her bedroom, and she didn't have to do it, but for the baby's sake, she had to cool it right the fuck now.
She knew Daryl would react poorly. It was the reason she prolonged the inevitable. She knew he would yell and possibly even grow violent, not toward her, but perhaps Tobin or a wall or Rick, as he'd decked right in the jaw. She had prepared for that. For the looks, for the distrust in his eyes, for the questions he'd ask her. She thought she'd covered all of it. She thought she could handle anything he threw at her. She wasn't prepared in the slightest for the confusion and hurt in his eyes. She hadn't seen him look like that in a long time, not since that night after Sophia was buried with Annette and Shawn when he lunged at her.
She didn't know if they could come back from this. They used to talk about everything. There were things they didn't touch, simply knew, and Ed's abuse, and Daryl's father's abuse were on that list. Sophia too, oddly enough. The built their bond over those eight months on the road after they lost the farm, where she learned how to shoot from T-dog and Lori, where Daryl taught her how to properly skin an owl or bird or squirrel, where she built an outer shell to protect herself from the next loss. It didn't do much when she took one look at Rick after Daryl brought her out of Isolation, nor when they returned without Andrea. It would seem her shell wasn't good enough.
She sank down onto her bed, her heart aching. She honestly wouldn't mind if the rest of their family didn't speak to her again, but knowing Daryl might never was devastating. He'd been beside her for so long, her man of honor, and she loved him so much. He was the only person in the entire group she could honestly say knew her through and through until she was cast out. He was a friend like she'd never had, and the thought of him avoiding her as she'd avoided him, of him never looking to her or speaking to her, was like a sack of rocks pressing her further into an ocean. She could imagine how he felt these last few days, and she hated herself for that. He hadn't earned her cold shoulder. He was a good man, always stood by what was right and by her, even when she wasn't there. He deserved an explanation. He deserved to know why—exactly why—she hadn't told him.
Yet she still didn't know. There was fear, she could discern that much from the cloud hanging about her. She knew he'd gone there too. He'd thrown it in her face and in Maggie's. Lori had been unable to vaginally deliver Judith. Maggie had no choice but to perform a C-section, and Lori didn't survive. She chose her baby, and she died. It broke her heart, seeing the answer in Rick's eyes, seeing the way Carl ducked his head, how Beth hugged the then-nameless baby girl closer, and she knew how Daryl had reacted when he thought he'd lost her too. She could hear him pacing out there, thrusting the knife in and out, how he worked up the courage to throw open the door. And when she was strong enough to walk, after they'd gone to get Maggie and Glenn, she'd seen the rose the grave intended for her. She knew Daryl had razed the woods to find that flower, to try and begin to mourn her, and she knew he'd gone there the second he saw the test. How could he not? She'd gone there too when she first suspected. He not only had gone there prior to this, but he lived it. It was a brief existence before he found her, but he knew the pain of losing her, and now he might lose her again. It wasn't to Andrew. It wasn't to walkers. It was to the baby growing inside of her. The baby she hadn't intended to conceive, the baby she wasn't sure would survive the next few weeks.
He feared that too, she knew. Her baby might not make it. They had been there when their dear friend, their loved one, a young, healthy woman lost her baby. What was to keep Carol from losing hers? There was nothing concrete about this pregnancy yet. She knew that she could wake up one morning in blood, or like Maggie she could double over in agony. She didn't know if her body could hold another child. She was lucky to have had Sophia. Ed was not a gentle man, and that was putting it lightly. She couldn't guess what would happen in the months to come, and she couldn't assure Daryl the baby would be okay either. He would need to know. Following Maggie's miscarriage, he'd have to know if this child would make it. She just couldn't give him that confirmation.
And then, for her, there was the petrifying knowledge of what happened to Lizzie. She was messed up. They might have been able to help her if the world wasn't in this state, but it was. Carol didn't know what caused a child to think like that, to act like that, but if her baby had the same problem, it would put everyone at risk one day. She didn't want to the be reason they were all killed. She didn't want to contribute unknowingly to that. She'd already given Lizzie the means to kill her own baby sister and nearly Judith.
She buried her face in her hand. She couldn't do this. She couldn't think like this, but it was fresh in her mind. She had to consider all the angles, and that was one of them. It churned her stomach. It wasn't likely. Sophia was a sweet girl, a gentle soul. She couldn't harm a fly. This child would be a little brother or sister to that tender soul, and there was no it could as twisted and dark as Lizzie. Yet Mika had been kind, and Lizzie rotten. Perhaps this child would be her rotten fruit.
With that thought, she flew up off the bed and to the bathroom, retching.
––
Maggie wobbled into the clinic where Glenn was dressing himself, Denise and Enid in the living room together, going over something in the books. She swallowed and knocked, he turned around, buttoning the plaid shirt Rick had left for him, and she smiled softly.
"Hey."
"Maggie." He noticeably swallowed. "How are you feeling?"
"How are you feelin'?" She reached out and brushed her thumb tenderly over the cut on his brow. "Looks painful."
"Yeah, but it doesn't hurt. It did when Denise put that ointment on it, but it's fine now." He captured her hand. "I dropped a piece of wood when I fell from the ladder, must've hit me on its way down."
"Ouch."
"Yeah." He squeezed her hand. "Have you eaten today?"
"A bit." She wasn't lying this time. She pulled her hand back and crossed her arms. "Well, you've missed a lot."
"I know. Eugene came by and told me about the bullet factory. It's impressive. I'm gonna try and lend Rick a hand with it. If he'll let me." He sat on the bed to pull his boots on. "It'd be great for us."
"It would be." She wet her lips. "Carol's pregnant."
A chill ran through his blood at those words, his foot fell in what felt like slow motion to the floor, and his tongue thickened. "What?" he rasped.
She nodded. "A couple weeks pregnant, but she won't know for sure until her next visit."
"Next?" He peeked at her. "Next visit?"
Another nod. "Harlan examined her after me. She took a pregnancy test, and it came back positive."
"Who's the father?" He busied himself with tying the laces.
"Tobin. He's ready to step up to the plate. She's strugglin' with it all. It must be 'cause of Sophia, and Lori too."
"Yeah, it must be."
"I'm gonna help her out when I can. Not...not until later on, maybe the second month when pregnancy's all cemented. I uh, I don't want to crowd her like Michonne and Rick, but I think... I think it'd be good for...for her to have someone there." She didn't want to admit she wanted to be with Carol for her own selfish needs. Seeing a child grow in the womb, feeling it kick—if Carol let her feel—and knowing this could happen would do her wonders. Or so she hoped. She didn't want to be enraged anymore. She didn't want to be jealous anymore. She hoped witnessing life being created would heal her wounds.
And if it didn't, she might learn how Carol got through losing Sophia. The woman was a force of nature, as unstoppable as the wind and rain, but she hadn't always been. Maggie had seen her at the farm, and she'd seen her struggle to find the will to keep on keeping on after Rick killed Sophia. Maybe some of that will would rub off on her. Will or advise, she'd take either at this point.
"I should...check out with Denise, make sure I can get back to work right away." He hopped up and walked by. "Uh, do you want to have lunch later?"
"I promised Michonne I'd look in on Judy, so she could keep tabs on Carol." She hugged her arms closer. "Maybe next time."
"Yeah, yeah." He studied her, not sure if he wanted to kiss her forehead or not, but in the end, he settled on a slight smile before sauntering out to speak with Denise, and Maggie was rather relieved with his decision, having caught the wondering in those round orbs.
– – –
When he ultimately brought his bike to a screeching halt in the middle of nowhere, Daryl stumbled off of it and collapsed onto the hot road. Panted whispers spilled from his lips, the sun-warmed ground searing his palms, and he slammed his fist down onto the road. Once. Twice. Three times. A fourth and fifth until his palm ached and grew wet with blood.
He sat back, his bangs in his eyes, and he shook his head. This couldn't be real. This couldn't be fucking happening! Carol couldn't be pregnant. She couldn't be. After what just happened with Maggie and what happened to Lori... It couldn't be her. She couldn't be the next pregnant woman in their group. There was no goddamn way it was her. She'd confirmed it, but it couldn't be a fact. He refused to believe it was. This world was especially cruel to women who were expecting. He'd yet to see both mother and child survive.
And it was Carol. Carol was the mother. She had already been a mother to Sophia, to Lizzie and Mika, and now a partial mother to Judith—though Michonne was now winning sole mother role for the toddler. Carol, who he'd caught trying to run from the group. Carol, who had been wearing a fake smile and charming the people of Alexandria with cookies and meals and sweet comments. Carol, who was his best friend in this God forsaken shit hole of a world. Carol, who was the last person he ever expected to be pregnant. Carol, who was avoiding him and lying to him and now hiding things from him. Carol, a woman he clearly didn't know anymore. She'd said so herself when they were scrambling through the city to find Beth.
You're not who you were, and neither am I. He didn't put much stock in those words. He told her previously she should keep telling herself that he didn't know her. He thought he knew her quite well, but no matter their past, their current selves had grown apart. She had a new life with the people of Alexandria, with...Tobin. She wasn't his best friend anymore, evidently not if she couldn't bring herself to tell him she was knocked up. Something he had a right to know as her friend, as her family, as someone who...cared about her. But only Rick, the asshole who didn't know the first thing about her, who fucking threw her out of the prison, was worthy of being informed of her condition. Rick and Tobin, the only two she actually told. Nice to know where he stood with her now.
He ran his eyes over the blood on his hand, his eyes skirting over to the scars from his cigarette burns, and his throat contracted. Tyreese, Beth. Those were the last two people from their group they'd lost. He and Noah hadn't had the chance to get close, and while he missed the little gnat, he couldn't say he was crippled with agony over it, not like with Ty and with Beth. They were such good people. Ty reminded him of T so much, with his unyielding positive attitude and the way he was with the older folks. Reminded him of the camp on the quarry when he'd watch the people there and how T-dog popped in on them like a mother hen. He was a good man, and Daryl missed him. There was the fallout of Karen and David, and the turmoil that ate away at him when they all reunited after escaping the train car, but still, Ty was one of theirs, and Daryl respected him. If only he would have made to Alexandria, he'd be in his element with the kids and the people. If fucking only.
And Beth. She was this little annoying, trying tooth and nail to be a cocky, fearless young woman. She was one of the better ones, better than him. She was sweet, always looking out for people and pitching in where she could. She was a tough cookie, and despite the world trying to break her down, she refused. She held her ground, clenched her teeth and became who she had to become to survive. But she was still just a kid. A hopeful, song-singing girl who couldn't resist impulse. That nearly got her killed twice before...it actually got her killed.
He couldn't think of the torture he'd been dragged through should Carol not survive, should her baby not survive. Carol was a big part of his life. She kept coming back like some goddamn boomerang he didn't fucking throw. She was relentless and kind and willing to do or be whatever he needed. She was his rock when he lost Merle, seeing the good in his death, in his sacrifice. She was the first person in his entire life to look at him like he was more than waste of space, an accident, a mistake right off the bat. She saw a man of honor, and he...he was grateful for that. Beyond grateful, he...he...
And now she was slipping out of his grasp, and he didn't know how to make it better, how to prove he could still stand by her through this. To be honest, he wasn't certain he could, but with their history, he believed he deserved a chance to prove himself.
He knew she had a lot to work through. Something happened to her when she was with the girls, something that haunted her, and he didn't know what that was. He didn't press her when she asked why he hadn't asked. Whatever happened out there changed her, but she was still Carol. They were still friends, still family. Hell, he would do anything for her, so why...why didn't she talk to him? Why didn't she trust him? Open up to him? She could bring his walls down, make him face the pain, but when it was her, he couldn't approach her. She wouldn't let him. She would get this distance look in her eyes and shrink away, as if she were afraid to let him know.
But why? She had nothing to be afraid of. Yeah, he blew up this time, because he unveiled this life-changing lie, but he had every reason too, and...
He grunted and ran his other hand through his hair. It wasn't about him. She should have told him, but it was her right to wait. It's her body that's changing. It'll be her body that forms a new life, and she has other priority than telling him. He wasn't the father, and he couldn't be so angry that Tobin was, that she told Tobin about the baby. He had a right to know; it's his kid. Carol has more important things on her mind right now than telling Daryl about a baby she may or may not have in nine month's time. He'd thought about Maggie losing her baby, so why the fuck did it take him this long to reach this conclusion? She had bigger worries than his reaction, number one being losing the life inside of her, and number two being who would raise that life should she not survive labor.
He slumped back so he was lying down on the ground, his eyes narrow at the sinking sun, and he blew out a sigh. He didn't know how to swallow this. He was pissed and confused. His heart heavy. He wanted to be supportive, but so much was at stake.
Shit. He wanted to go back and just deck Tobin right in the jaw. He knew why. He blamed Tobin. It was a two person job, but...he was more inclined to blame that tall motherfucker over Carol. If she lost the baby, or her life, Daryl wouldn't be able to forgive him. Maybe he was being petulant. Maybe he was being the biggest man-baby in the world, but it felt like Tobin was taking Carol away from him. She wasn't a toy or an item, but the bond they had, the friendship, was dying. And here comes Tobin, building a relationship with her and now a family. A family he wasn't apart of. He felt like he had when Rick ditched Merle on the roof, and they couldn't find him. Now he had Rick and the others, but Carol was an important person in his life. And now her baby...
He dragged himself up, wrapping his hand with the handkerchief in his back pocket. Fuck it. It was risky, but fuck it. It'd be worth it, and it wasn't like he had anything to lose. He swung his leg over the motorcycle and drove off into the darkness of night, further away from Alexandria.
